TO MIGRATE HOME 
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ried them for themselves, and away they went 
marching toward the south, quite a stately pro¬ 
cession of them, and all feeling very good 
about the move, though I am sure Mannie 
and some of his comrades were sorry at leaving 
such a comfortable town. But then, they would 
all be coming back to it in the next spring, and 
meanwhile how about those long adventurous 
journeys which all emperors and their sons 
take in the long glorious winter time? So they 
trudged gladly along, after all, and none was 
more stately and proud than Mannie as he 
trudged along beside his wise and dignified 
father, the Emperor. 
In the distance, on a pinnacle of ice, sat 
a forlorn little figure. His chin was in his 
hand and his knees were crossed. He looked 
very much alone, indeed. It was old tramp, 
Stormy Petrel. He had no home and no family. 
There was no winter home for him and no 
summer home. He was a child of the wild sea 
wave. And he had known this little town of 
