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and he ran sky high in his lunge against the waves; He felt as if his strength was born out to the center of the ocean, and the stroke of chill, shot his mind to the edge of his fingertips. Continuously he dove like a porpoise upon the motion of leaps out of the water. He explained to the sea that actually he was a bird and his flapping was but practice for flight. Dying to sing, plunging with open mouth to the ocean split second on each spring toward the sky, he did not know why water was not pouring in him mak- ing of him a sponge. He pronounced in his brain that he was really only fishy, and a sudden secure joy in him made appear a flash of gait once again on world reality. "But how can the endevor of imagination dis- miss the sky?" he yelled out. It was at that pitch where his belly finally fill- ed with water, and he went into sleep of dream as the sea began to perform on him as if he were for burial. The water was dark on this morning day of gray dew and hung colors. But Dangerous took him aloft the master of a ship sailing puffed salty, skirted feminine by a straight and timeless wind whistle of song. His back was arched, and his stomach stretched