The fact was that the poor ngozo had escaped from a village of human beings, one of whom had taken him away from his nest when he was a baby ngozo. He had given him to his wife, who fed him and raised him tenderly and taught him to speak or listen to her words. Consequently, he had not learned the language of the ngozos, not having lived among them. He spoke at times a queer kind of jargon which he and two or three captive ngozos of the village had invented for use among themselves.
In the evening the stranger followed them. He had been admitted as one of the members of the flock, and when they arrived at a certain place they met other ngozos. All marvelled at the new-comer, who was exactly like themselves, but could not understand them, as they could not understand him. But nevertheless they were soon friends.
The hour came when the flock thought it was time to return to the island where all the ngozos met, and they started and before long reached the place with the new friend they had adopted that day. As usual they had their talk out and then went to sleep.
That night this ngozo stranger thought of the home he had left, of his mistress who had been so kind to him, and how much he was petted by the people. The next morning he followed the flock that had received him. He had no one to bring him his breakfast, and henceforth he would have to work for his living. It was a new life before him, but after a while he found that it was much better to be free, even if you had to work for a living, instead of having some one to take care of you and be a slave.
Often the adopted stranger, when his people (the other ngozos) were resting on a tree, would talk the language of the human beings who had brought him up. While he did so, the other ngozos listened in silence. It did not take them long to learn the language of the human beings through their new friend. He wondered why and how they could learn so quickly from him, while it had taken him so long to learn the same language. The reason was that the ngozos learn much more quickly from one another.
He also learned quickly the speech of his kin, and after a while could talk the language of wild gray ngozos as well as the rest of them. Nevertheless, though years passed away, he never forgot some of the words his master and mistress had taught him, and he remembered them to his death.
One evening after all the flocks had arrived, the ngozos’ chiefs said, “Now it is time for us to start for the Land of Plenty.”
“Yes,” cried all the ngozos, “it is time for us to start for the Land of Plenty. A grand time we will all have there.”
“This is the moon of tornadoes, thunder, lightning, of great heat,” said one chief. “Fruit and nuts will soon be ripe in that far-off country.” And all the ngozos kept repeating over and over again, “It is time for us to travel toward the Land of Plenty.”
It was agreed among them that this should be the last day of the season they were all to stay and sleep at the dear old place, where they had had so many chats together, and they were sad; but the glorious time they were to have in the Land of Plenty from morning to night made them feel that they must go, for of late they had had a hard time to get food.