CHAPTER XI.

WAOMBA--MOTHER OF THE WEST LAND

After a while the gale died down as suddenly as it began. The sea grew calm once more, and the sun shone out brightly.

Coppertop dried her wings in the warm sunlight, and leaving the pillow upon which she floated, flew up into the golden air.

She looked eagerly round for Tibbs and Kiddiwee, but they were nowhere to be seen.

And Coppertop felt too broken-hearted and sad even to cry.

Far away in the distance she espied a peak of land, showing blue above the horizon. And not caring very much whether she reached it or not, she flew in that direction.

But as she drew nearer her spirits rose.

“After all,” she said to herself, “even that horrid old Clerk of the Weather wouldn’t dare to drown them! ’Maginary brothers can’t be drowned, I’m positively sure they can’t. But where are they? I do love them so! And I shall never find the December day by myself.”

So she pondered wearily, until she reached the West Land, and beheld a great mountain, with a queer tablecloth of cloud upon it, as though it were laid for a feast of giants. This looked so strange and interesting that she flew towards it.

“I wonder,” thought Coppertop, “if it is laid for the West Wind’s breakfast? It will be most disappointing if I miss him!”

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud roaring from somewhere beneath her. The roar of a lion! This was followed by the cries of smaller animals. And looking down, to her surprise, she found that she was now flying over several large, open cages, in which were many animals.

“Why, I do believe it’s a Zoo!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I do hate to see the poor things shut up! How would we like to be shut up in cages and stared at by crowds of animals, I should like to know? People are so funny! It’s just the same way with flowers. They say, ‘Oh, I do love the beautiful flowers!’ and then, off they pull their heads, and stick them in ugly old vases, in stuffy rooms! That isn’t much like loving them! I wouldn’t love things that way.” Pondering deeply, she added, “Oh, I don’t know how I’d love! It would be bigger than the biggest balloon! Oh, much huger! I wish I had someone to scrumble and squeege now! It’s simply miserable being alone!”

“Those who love as you do are never alone,” said a soft rich voice from the mist in front of her. For she had now reached the tablecloth of cloud which hung over the mountain top.

Coppertop was startled. And yet she did not feel really afraid--the voice was too gentle for anyone to be afraid of. It reminded her of her mother’s voice.

“Do not fear, little one!” continued the voice. “It is I, Waomba, who speaks.”

“I don’t think I know you, do I?” stammered Coppertop. She had never heard the name before, but the gentle voice she knew quite well.

“I came from the Shadowland of the Barimo, because I heard you call.”

“I--I don’t think I did call!” murmured the child.

“Yes, little one, your heart did! It was lonely, and it called to me. Come!”

And at these words the mist rolled back and revealed a gigantic, but beautiful, negress.

Upon her head, which towered almost to the sky, were two large buffalo horns, held by a band of gold; her shoulders and arms were bare, and round her waist coiled a golden snake, which held in place her robe of bluest blue. Against her heart there cooed a grey ring-dove; and ah, she looked serene and wonderful.

Coppertop was so awestruck that she could neither move nor speak, until the great negress, smiling, held out her arms and said--

“I am Waomba, whom the great tribes love. To me come all the hurt things--large and small. The wounded Kudu, And the Lioness, The tiny Ant, Or Hippopotamus! I hear each cry, and soothe and understand. I am the Mother of the great West Land.”

As she heard these strange words Coppertop forgot to be afraid, and, without hesitating, flew up to the outstretched arms, and was pressed close to Waomba’s great heart.

Side by side with the cooing dove she lay, her cheek against its soft grey head--and she was happier than words can tell.

As she seemed to be sinking into a delicious slumber she heard a small voice say--

“Cece! Cece! I do want you, I do!”

It was Kiddiwee speaking. Of that there could be no doubt. But where was he? And where was Tibbs?

She felt ashamed at having been happy even for a moment, when they were lost, and perhaps in great peril.

“See!” said Waomba.

And as Coppertop looked, she saw them both.

They were many, many miles away, and yet she saw them clearly, which, of course, was due to the magic spell of Waomba; and not only could she see them, but she could hear them as well.

And this is what she heard and saw.