he sails.
They had much grist to grind, and they were in a hurry; so the miller
climbed along one of the arms with the tools he wanted, and Sam went
along another. There was a nice breeze--not much--but it seemed as if
it would get stronger and stronger. So they worked on as fast as they
could, that they might soon get the sails mended and the mill going.

There they were, the miller and his man, out at the end of those long
arms high up in the air. Few people would have wished to have changed
places with them.

"Make haste, Sam," cried the miller from his perch. "It's a tough job I
have got here. I shall want your help."

"All right, master, I shall soon be done," said Sam, and he worked on.

"Hallo, Sam, what are you about, man?" cried the miller on a sudden.

"Nothing, master," said Sam, hammering away.

"Nothing! nothing?" cried out the miller, at the top of his voice. "Why
the mill is moving. Stop it, man; stop it."

"I can't stop it, master, nor any man either," shrieked out Sam, as the
long arms of the mill began to move round and round.

"Hold on to the last, then," cried the miller; "it is your only chance."

"I can't, master; I can't," cried Sam, near dead with fright.

The miller clutched round the arm with all his might. Sam went round
once. It was more than he could bear; as the arm to which he clung
neared the ground, he let go. Of course he was dashed with great force
to the ground. Had his head struck it, he would have been killed; but
his legs came first. One leg was broken, and there he lay not able to
get up and help his master, and almost dead with fear as the long arms
swept round and round above his head.

Still the miller held on. He shut his eyes, for he dared not look at
the ground, which he seemed to be leaving for ever; and he felt that the
mill was going faster and faster each moment. He knew too that he was
growing weaker and weaker, and that the time would soon come when he
could hold on no longer, and that he must be dashed with force on the
ground and killed. What could save him? Sam lay helpless on the
ground.

"Oh, I shall be killed; I shall be killed," he thought. "Help! help!"

From whom was help to come? He could not pray; he never prayed when he
lay down at night, when he got up in the morning. He could not pray to
God now. Who else could help him! No human being was likely to see
him, for his wife and son and daughter were still in bed, and few pe