And still he was not satisfied, but grew bolder and bolder, putting himself in its power and trusting to its mercy.

He could play better with his clothes off; and one day, chasing a great receding wave as far as it would go, he stood up bravely to encounter the succeeding wave, but it was greater than the last, and lifting him in its great green arms it carried him high up till it broke with a mighty roar on the beach; then instead of leaving him stranded there it rushed back still bearing him in its arms out into the deep.

Further and further from the shore it carried him, until he became terrified, and throwing out his little arms towards the land, he cried aloud, "Mother! Mother!" He was not calling to his own mother far away on the great plain; he had forgotten her.

Now he only thought of the beautiful woman of the Hills, who was so strong, and loved him and made him call her "Mother"; and to her he cried in his need for help.

Now he remembered her warm, protecting bosom, and how she had cried every night at the fear of losing him; how when he ran from her she followed him, calling to him to return.