The Chief of the Monkey Tribe.
“I and the Garra-garra-pom-nutta-garra Tribe are at the service of the Man-cubs!” said the Monkey kindly. “Come with me, O little-lost-ones!”
Wondering what would happen next, Tibbs and Kiddiwee followed him, with the whole tribe chattering behind them.
Before long they arrived at the edge of the forest, and the old Monkey said—
“Fly over the plains—
Keeping the sunshine
Upon the right shoulder,
until you reach a mighty river, and follow that till you come to the West Wind’s bower—and there you will find what you are seeking!”
“Does he mean Cece or the December day?” whispered Kiddiwee.
“Both, I expect,” cried Tibbs, overjoyed.