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By the fire sat the Toyman.

He must have been seeing things in the flames, for he kept looking, looking all the time.

He was all alone, for Father and Mother Green had gone to town to see a fine wedding. It was not often that they stayed out so late, but this was a grand event. And they knew the three happy children would be safe in the Toyman’s care.

They were all in the next room. Jehosophat and Hepzebiah were sound asleep–but not Marmaduke. He was sitting up, a little bit of a fellow in a big bed.

Outside, old Giant Northwind roared and roared. Now he seemed to be running around and around the house, faster than any train. Now he stopped to knock at the door and bang at the window panes. Now he trampled on the roof, knocking off pieces of slate and a brick from the chimney, which fell, crash, through the glass cover of the little greenhouse.

Marmaduke did not like the sounds cruel Giant Northwind made. And it was very dark in the room. To tell the truth he was just a little bit frightened. But he didn’t say anything at all. For the Toyman had told him always to be “game.” That was a funny word, but Marmaduke knew what it meant. A brave little boy must not cry even if he is afraid.

Still the Giant Northwind kept running round and round the house with great leaps. And the windows creaked, and the trees thumped the house with their branches.

Suppose the Giant should break in and carry him ‘way, ‘way off!

The door of the next room was open. Through it he could see the bright fire. Higher and higher leaped the flames, as if they wanted to jump up the chimney and join the Northwind in his mad race.

Very comfy and bright looked the fire. Very funny were the shadows on the wall, dancing and bowing to each other and jumping up and down like Jacks-in-the-Box.

One shadow was like a man’s, as tall as the ceiling.

Had Giant Northwind gotten in the house at last!

Marmaduke shivered and crept out of bed–and hurried into the next room. He kept as far away from that giant shadow as he could. But he never cried out. He was very brave.

On and on against the wall he tiptoed towards the chair by the fire, where the Toyman sat, thinking his strange thoughts.

The Toyman felt a tug at his sleeve. He looked around. There stood Marmaduke, pointing at the shadow.

That shadow was so big and Marmaduke was so small.

“Don’t let him get me!” the little boy cried.

The Toyman reached down and in a second Marmaduke was safe in his arms.

“There’s nobody here but me,” said the Toyman.

Loud the Giant Northwind howled and roared, while the flames leaped up the chimney.

“Look there!” cried Marmaduke. “There he is!!”

And again he pointed to the shadow on the wall.

“The Giant Northwind has got in our house!”

But the Toyman only laughed, hugging him tighter.

“That’s not old Northwind, that’s only my shadow,” he explained.

Then Marmaduke laughed too.

“Tell me a story, Toyman,” he asked, “’bout that ole Giant Northwind.”

“It might scare you,” the Toyman answered.

Marmaduke only shook his head.

“Nothing makes me scared when I’m here,” he said. He wasn’t afraid of giants, or ogres, or wild animals, or anything, when he was safe in the Toyman’s arms.

For a while he looked up into his face. The Toyman’s hair stood up, all funny and rough. He was always running his fingers through it. His face had wrinkles like hard seams, and it was as brown as saddle leather from working outdoors. But Marmaduke thought that nowhere in the world was there so kind a face, except his Mother’s.

The Toyman put down his corncob pipe and began:

“Once upon a time, long time ago, before your mother was born, or your grandmother, or your great-grandmother either, there was a King. He was King of all the Winds. And he lived in a great big cave up in a high mountain.”