He answered, “Two miles from here a fly is sitting on the branch of an oak-tree, and I want to shoot its left eye out.”

“Oh, come with me,” said the man, “if we three are together, we certainly ought to be able to get on in the world!” The huntsman was ready, and went with him, and they came to seven windmills whose sails were turning round with great speed, and yet no wind was blowing either on the right or the left, and no leaf was stirring. Then said the man, “I know not what is driving the windmills, not a breath of air is stirring,” and he went onwards with his servants, and when they had walked two miles they saw a man sitting on a tree who was shutting one nostril, and blowing out of the other. “Good gracious! what are you doing up there?”

He answered, “Two miles from here are seven windmills; look, I am blowing them till they turn round.”