Crowding to the nearest bank of the river, I perceived the poor beast floundering distressingly in the middle of the stream. Almost immediately I became aware that the creature could not swim, and was, therefore, doomed to be drowned unless some one could devise a means of its rescue. Right before the eyes of those helpless and horrified spectators the beast sank and rose and sank again.
The manager of the circus, who was likewise the owner, came tearing through the crowd, frothing at the mouth, and shrieking that he would pay a reward of five hundred dollars to any one who would rescue the elephant.
I saw my opportunity, and grappled with it.
“Clam yourself, sir,” said I. “I will relieve you of that five hundred. Your priceless treasure shall not perish.”
Then I called my faithful dog.
“Fido,” I cried, pointing toward the drowning mammal, “it’s up to you to get busy. We need the mazuma. Go fetch, Fido.”
Instantly my noble dog plunged into the river and swam swiftly toward the elephant. Just as the great beast was sinking for the third time, Fido seized it by one ear, and, holding the elephant’s head above the surface, turned and struck out for the nearest shore.
It was a fearful struggle. For a time the issue hung in the balance, or words to that effect. Once Fido, elephant, and all disappeared from view, and the crowd shouted in a high key. That is, most of the crowd; but, judging by the smell of the man’s breath next to me, the key he shouted in was whisky. I touched him gently on the shoulder, and admonished him to keep up his spirits. Hiccuping slightly, he assured me that it was frequently far more difficult for him to keep them down.
With folded arms, I serenely waited until little Fido reached the bank and dragged the elephant, limp and nearly drowned, but still alive, out upon dry ground.
The spectators cheered wildly, and the proprietor of the circus made a dastardly attempt to fall on my neck and kiss me, but I held him off.