Atalapha, a Winged Brownie 
distant spring to the sandworn traveller parched, 
athirst. 
Now sped he like a pirate of the air. Now fled 
she like a flying yacht gold-laden, away, away, and 
the warm wind whistled, left behind. But the pirate 
surely wins when the prize is not averse to being 
taken. Not many a span of the winding stream, 
not many a wing-beat of that flight ere Atalapha 
was skimming side by side with a glorified Silver- 
brown. How rich and warm was that coat. How 
gentle, alluring the form and the exquisite presence 
that told without sounds of a spirit that also had 
hungered. 
“‘He-o00, he-ooo, he-ooo!” loud sang Atalapha 
in ecstasy of the love dream that came true. 
“He-oo0, he-ooo, he-ooo!”’ and she sailed by his side. 
And as they sped the touch of lips or ears or wing- 
tips was their lover greeting, or tilting each away, 
as side by side they flew, their warm soft breasts 
would meet and the beating hearts together beat in 
time. The seeing wings supplied their comprehen- 
sion in a hundred thrills, magnetic, electric, over- 
whelming. So they sailed in the blue on their bridal 
flight; so the hunger-mad joined in a feast of delight; 
so the fever-burnt drank at the crystal spring, for 
the moon that was full was the Red Love Moon, 
and it blazed on the brawling river. 
