“Does he mean Cece or the December day?” whispered Kiddiwee. “Both, I expect,” cried Tibbs, overjoyed. “But beware! O cubs-with-the-butterfly-wings,” continued the kindly Monkey, “beware of the arrows of the Bushmen!” And before they could thank him, he was gone, with his chattering tribe, and they were alone once more. Far across the plains they flew, Keeping the sunshine Upon the right shoulder, as they had been told to do. Before long they passed over a circle of huts, round which were standing a number of fierce, black people--the ugliest they had ever seen. “Bushmen!” warned Tibbs. They were naked, and carried bows and arrows. In the centre a large group of excited black men were lighting a fire, and over this fire was a cauldron, and in this cauldron they beheld, to their amazement, a man! A white man! “By jingo!” exclaimed Tibbs, “they’re cooking him for dinner! We must rescue the poor beggar before he is too well done!” And braving the arrows of the Bushmen--poisoned with the n’gwa juice--they flew down to the poor half-crazed man in the cauldron. At the sight of the winged boys, the blacks fled in terror, their woolly hair uncurling, and their eyes starting from their eye-sockets. “Um gullaber n’ging boo!” they yelled, which means “The Evil Ones have come!” Then rushing madly away, they left their dinner to cook itself. Tibbs and Kiddiwee were delighted at the success of their surprise visit, and ran to the cauldron to help the poor man out, but when they beheld his face they drew back with a cry. “It’s the Clerk of the Weather!” gasped Tibbs. “So it is!” sneered the spiteful Clerk. “Have you found your precious December day yet?” “No,” growled Tibbs, still too amazed to know what to do. “And I don’t think you will!” yelled the Clerk of the Weather. Then, leaning suddenly forward, he grasped hold of the two boys and pulled them into the cauldron, jumping out himself as he did so; then, flying up into the coil of smoke from the fire, disappeared. “It was just a beastly trick!” cried Tibbs, scrambling as best he could from the hot cauldron, and helping Kiddiwee out after him. “I’d like to punch that fellow into fits!” But he had no time to think of revenge, for the Bushmen grew bold at seeing the winged boys in the cauldron, and now ran towards them threateningly. The boys turned to fly, but their wings had been scorched by the heat and would hardly carry them. So they took to their heels and ran, pursued at a safe distance by the cowardly Bushmen, who fired flights of poisoned arrows at them. Two of these arrows wounded Tibbs. “Kiddi, I’m--I’m hit!” he groaned. “We must reach a river, somehow, and wash out the poison.” Kiddiwee helped him along as best he could. And after travelling many weary miles, they came at last to a mighty river. The river was red with the mud washed into it by numerous streams, and large trees floated past, torn from the river banks, for it was in flood.