THE EAST WIND IN A RAGE.
“I can’t see Tibbs anywhere, I can’t!” cried Kiddiwee, after watching
a long time for his return, to Coppertop, who was seated on the Camel
and laughing heartily at the antics of the Rajah and his attendants,
as they rushed madly about, trying to find some means of getting the
little White Elephant from under Miss Smiler. But I’m afraid that--
Not all the King’s horses,
Nor all the King’s men,
Could lift such a Camel
As Smiler was then.
“Oh, he’ll be back soon!” cried Coppertop. “Do look at these queer
little excited things. They’re too funny for words!” and she laughed
until she nearly fell off Miss Smiler’s back.
“Oh, look! LOOK! They’re trying to pull the White Elephant out by her
trunk! I shall scream if it stretches and goes back with a bang!”
“’Es, like ’lastic,” cried Kiddiwee.
“Yes! I do hope Miss Smiler isn’t sitting too heavily on her; the East
Wind won’t care very much for a squashed wife, will he?”
“We’ll ask for the December day before we give him the Elephant, don’t
you think so?” she continued, addressing the Camel.
“Bet your life!” observed Miss Smiler.
“I never bet,” replied Coppertop, with dignity. “Except--well, it isn’t
betting exactly--but Daddy always puts me on the Calcutta Sweep,” she
added, truthfully.
“Nice for the sweep,” remarked the Camel.
“Oh, you really are stupid,” exclaimed Coppertop. “You don’t
understand. It’s not that kind of a sweep. It’s a----”
But before she could utter another word the roar of a rapidly
approaching gale drowned all further utterance. The trees of the jungle
were bent nearly double, and the next moment the East Wind rushed upon
them in a fury, blowing Tibbs helplessly along in front.
The poor boy felt so small at this indignity, that he quickly became
so, and running off, hid himself behind a stone by the roadside.
“Where is the creature who has ruined my beautiful Taj Mahal?” roared
the East Wind, in a voice of seven hurricanes.
“Where is the Goth who has done this deed?
I will blow him off the earth!
I will grind him to the dust!
The Ganges shall lift its head like a hooded snake, and drown him!
He shall be whirled in a hurricane to the highest peak of the
Himalayas and left there to freeze!”
“Is that all?” remarked Miss Smiler, smiling broadly. “And who is the
lucky person?”
“The Clerk of the Weather told me it was a creature called ‘Smiler’!”
cried the East Wind, tearing down the palm trees as he spoke, and
whirling them about like straws. “SMILER!” he bellowed, “who has dared
to use my Best Beloved as an air cushion!” he roared, blind with rage.
And Smiler smiled no more.
She looked hastily round at the ruined Taj Mahal, and she wept an
inward tear of remorse. She glanced down at the little White Elephant
struggling beneath her, and she blushed with shame at the way she had
treated her.
Now, all this made Miss Smiler feel very small. And, feeling small, she
quickly became so!
The White Elephant, feeling the weight on her back grow less--as Miss
Smiler grew smaller--scrambled to her feet, and made off into the
jungle, trumpeting joyfully.
As for Coppertop, the first rush of the East Wind blew her off the
Camel’s back and whirled her up into a tall palm tree. And there she
hung--by the leg of her pyjamas--in mid air.
Of course, such an undignified position made her feel very “small,” and
she quickly became so in fact.
Then Kiddiwee, left all alone on the ruined Taj Mahal, shrinking
with fear, grew so small that he was carried off by the Clerk of the
Weather, who was hiding close by, and thrown into the den of an Elderly
Spinster Spider, in a crevice of the ruined building.
As for the East Wind, being changeable, as most winds are, he forgot
his rage as soon as he caught sight of his beloved White Elephant.
Sighing deeply, he made off into the jungle after her.
There they were wed, I think, for the trees still whisper of his tender
wooing.
But the three children were in great distress. They were all separated,
and were so small that they had little chance of finding each other;
for a distance that is only a few paces to a giant, may be several
miles to a tiny dwarf.