Atalapha, a Winged Brownie 
ing down, but his spirit was failing. He did not 
know where he was going, or whether he should 
turn and follow the sun till he dropped. As soon as 
the doubt came on him, he felt his strength go. He 
kept on, but it was a feeble flutter, with little direc- 
tion. Surely now the sea would swallow him up, as 
it doubtless had done many of his fellows. His 
courage never really failed till now. His flight was 
drifting downward, when far behind he heard a 
strange loud cry, a sound of many voices, and a 
backward glance showed skimming low over the 
water a far-flung string of long-winged birds, smaller 
than Hawks, black and white, whistling as they 
flew. The instinct to save himself caused him to 
rise higher, but his flight was slow now, and the 
broad-fronted horde of ocean roamers came up and 
past him with a whirring and a whistling, to fade 
in the gloom to the south. 
They had paid no heed to him, yet when they 
were gone they helped him. He did not know that 
these were Golden Plovers migrating. He did not 
know that they were headed for the ocean islands 
where winter never comes, but the force of their 
example was not lost. Example is the great teacher 
of all wild things, and spurred by the clamorous 
band, Atalapha took fresh heart and, following their 
very course, flapped on, wearily, hungrily, slowly 
202 
~~, 
=~ oN 
— 
“ 
a aml ~e 
ee 
— NX 
“oOo sx 
— 
