“Mercy! Mercy!” he cried, grovelling on the ground at the feet of the two boys. “Spare me, and I’ll worry you no more! You shall be free to find your precious day unhindered.”
“Perhaps it would be better not to kill him,” suggested Coppertop. “You see, if we did, the weather would be simply too awful for words, with no one to look after it.”
“All right,” agreed Tibbs, reluctantly. At the words the Clerk of the Weather rose shakily to his feet, and, springing into the air, disappeared behind a passing cloud.
“I don’t trust him a bit!” muttered Tibbs. “And I may never get another chance to cut a real head off,” he said, regretfully.
“Oh, you two dears!” cried Coppertop, beside herself with joy, “you’re both positively Victoria Cross heroes! I’m terrifikly proud of you. If I wasn’t so upset about my poor old spoilt wings, I could almost cry with happiness!”
“Funny things—girls?” remarked Tibbs, feeling awkward at being regarded as a hero. “Let’s find another head. This sword’s too sharp to waste. Come on, Kiddiwee,” and off he raced.
“Boys are funny—I should think,” remarked Coppertop. “Fancy leaving me like that, when we’ve only just found each other. Oh, I do wish I had a baby to squeedge.”
At this moment she glanced down, and there she beheld Smiler; smiling, too, with all her might.
“Oh, I do love you, I do!” cried the child, impulsively, and seizing the surprised Camel in her hands, she kissed her fondly.
As this happened, Miss Smiler heaved a deep sigh, and became just a little bronze camel once more.