Atalapha, a Winged Brownie 
for him, but on. The night wind followed the sun 
for a time, but Atalapha put forth a little of his 
feeble strength to rise till he found an upper breeze 
that was warm and would help him. 
All day from earliest dawn he had flown, in the 
early part at least in peril of his life, not a bite had 
he eaten, but on and on he kept, not the swift, 
swooping flight of the arrowy Bat as he comes when 
the shadows fall on Saranac, but slowly flapping and 
low, like a Heron flying with heavy, flagging flight, 
without curvet, but headed with steady purpose, 
swerving not, and on. 
Six hundred miles had he flown; his little breast 
was heaving, the rich dark fur was matted with the 
spray, the salt on his lips was burning, but on and 
on he flew. 
Flap,. flap, flap. There was no sound but the 
moan of the sea, nor sight for his eyes to rest on, 
nor hint that his magic wings could sense a place of 
refuge; but on and feebly on. 
Flap—flap—flap—there was naught but the 
pitiless ocean, and the brave little heart was sink- 
ing, and yet on—on. 
Flap—flap. His eyes were long dimmed. His 
wings were forgetting their captain, but on—on— 
in the wake of the Plovers, still on. 
The All-mother, inexorable, remorseless always, 
203 
