AFTER a while the gale died down as suddenly as it began. The sea grew calm once more, and the sun shone out brightly.
Coppertop dried her wings in the warm sunlight, and leaving the pillow upon which she floated, flew up into the golden air.
She looked eagerly round for Tibbs and Kiddiwee, but they were nowhere to be seen.
And Coppertop felt too broken-hearted and sad even to cry.
Far away in the distance she espied a peak of land, showing blue above the horizon. And not caring very much whether she reached it or not, she flew in that direction.
But as she drew nearer her spirits rose.
“After all,” she said to herself, “even that horrid old Clerk of the Weather wouldn’t dare to drown them! ’Maginary brothers can’t be drowned, I’m positively sure they can’t. But where are they? I do love them so! And I shall never find the December day by myself.”
So she pondered wearily, until she reached the West Land, and beheld a great mountain, with a queer tablecloth of cloud upon it, as though it were laid for a feast of giants. This looked so strange and interesting that she flew towards it.
“I wonder,” thought Coppertop, “if it is laid for the West Wind’s breakfast? It will be most disappointing if I miss him!”
Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud roaring from somewhere beneath her. The roar of a lion! This was followed by the cries of smaller animals. And looking down, to her surprise, she found that she was now flying over several large, open cages, in which were many animals.