The elephant stood over the car, waving his trunk, seemingly undecided how to go about his work of destruction; the keeper on his neck called and coaxed in vain. The girl... Richard could see only the girl’s back; he was thankful that he could not see her face. The other elephants waited in a semicircle behind. Then, after an interval that was like a hundred years, the leading elephant seized the steering-wheel of the motor-car, and, twisting it off the rod as though it had been made of putty, flung it into the road. That action seemed to appease the brute. He turned quietly away and slouched off; his keeper had now ceased to prod him. The other elephants followed meekly enough. The girl on the motor-car did not stir. The peril was past, but Richard found his foot trembling against the foot-brake of his car—such had been his agitation.
The elephant herd was five hundred yards away before the girl gave the slightest sign of life. Then she slowly dismounted, and waved a hand to the keeper, who had also dismounted from the elephant’s neck—a wave of the hand that was evidently intended to convey an assurance that she was unharmed and able to take care of herself. The keeper gave an answering signal, and—wisely, as Richard thought—continued his way up the opposite hill.
Richard pulled over the starting-lever of his car and leisurely approached the girl. She had already seen him, since her own car was more than half turned round, and therefore there could be no object in his attempting any further concealment. He drew up by her side and raised his peaked cap.
‘That was a nasty position for you to be in,’ he said, with genuine sympathy.
‘Oh, those elephants!’ she began gaily; ‘their trunks are so thick and hairy, you’ve no idea——’
Then she stopped, and, without the least warning, burst into tears. It was a very natural reaction, and no one could wonder at such an exhibition. Nevertheless, Richard felt excessively awkward; excessively at a loss what to do under the circumstances. He could scarcely take her in his arms and soothe her like a child; yet that was just the thing he wished to do.
‘Come, come,’ he said, and his spectacles gleamed paternally at her in the moonlight; ‘it is all over now.’
She pulled out a microscopic lace handkerchief, wiped her eyes, and looked at him.
‘Forgive me,’ she exclaimed; and then, smiling: ‘It shan’t occur again.’
‘You are a brave woman,’ he said sincerely—‘a very brave woman.’