With these words Mahmoud blew a little puff of wind through his trunk into the handful of grass seed about which it was curled, and then dropped the seeds in a little shower right at Pwit-Pwit's feet.
"Thank you," said the sparrow. "You have found me a delicious breakfast." And he pecked away at the seeds until he could hold no more.
Then Pwit-Pwit noticed that Mahmoud had stopped eating and was swinging his trunk about in a mournful manner.
"What's the matter, old chap?" chirped the sparrow. "Have you lost your appetite?"
"Alas!" sighed the old elephant, "I pine for the roar of my native Jungle, little one. I long to plunge through the great, wild forest and feel the swish of the branches at my sides. Even the chatter of idle and foolish monkeys would be music in my ears."
The sparrow hopped up on the rim of Mahmoud's ear, and said cheerily:
"Why don't you go home for a visit?"
"Alas, little one, I am too old, even if the Master People would release me. Never again shall I breathe the fresh breath of the hills; never again hear the roar of the Jungle."
Mahmoud's head drooped lower than before. Pwit-Pwit pecked at his ear to get his attention, and chirped:
"Cheer up, old chap, I can't bring the Jungle to you, 'tis true; but I think I can manage the roar all right."