COPPERTOP was so terrified when she beheld Tibbs and Kiddiwee floating down the stream of the great river that she cried out—
“Oh, don’t let them be drowned! Please don’t!” and hid her eyes.
“Look again, little one,” said Waomba. “Look closely!”
And as Coppertop did so, she seemed to be standing at the edge of a mighty waterfall, which sent up clouds of rainbow-coloured spray, in which were the forms of Maidens, transparent and airy as soap bubbles.
Hundreds of feet below, the water seethed round a beautiful island covered with trees, and looking quite peaceful, in spite of the angry torrent.
While she stood there, wondering, two tiny forms were borne along by the river, and flung out over the edge of the waterfall.
“Oh, Tibbs! Oh, Kiddiwee!” screamed Coppertop. “Oh, how terrible! They will fall and be smashed into a thousand pieces!”
But this was not to be. For the Mist Maidens clustered round them, and bore them upward, high above the falls. And there in the sunlight, Coppertop could see them clearly.
The two boys seemed to be asleep in the arms of the Mist Maidens, who bent and kissed them. And at each kiss they grew smaller, until Coppertop feared, if it went on much longer, they would be kissed away.
And to be sure, the boys grew so small at length that they slipped from the arms of the Maidens, and floated down gently, like autumn leaves, on to the island at the foot of the falls.