The next thing was to get Emperor to jail. He would not budge an inch when the officers sought to take him. Then a happy thought struck them. They ordered the trainer to lead the elephant and follow them under pain of instant arrest if he refused.
There was nothing for it but to obey. Protesting loudly, Kennedy started for the village with his great, hulking charge.
Phil Forrest was as disconsolate as his employer was enraged. The boy’s act was spoiled, perhaps indefinitely, which might mean the loss of part of his salary.
“That’s country justice,” growled the owner. “But I’ll telegraph my lawyer in the city and have him here by morning. Maybe it won’t be such a bad speculation tomorrow, for I’ll make this town go broke before it has fully settled the damages I’ll get out of it. Don’t be down in the mouth, Forrest. You’ll have your elephant back, and before many days at that. Go watch the show and forget your troubles.”
It will be observed that, under his apparently excitable exterior, Mr. James Sparling was a philosopher.
“Emperor’s in jail,” mourned Phil.
The moment Mr. Kennedy returned, sullen and uncommunicative, Phil sought him out. He found the trainer in Mr. Sparling’s tent.
“Where did they take him?” demanded Phil, breaking in on their conversation.
“To jail,” answered Kennedy grimly. “First time I ever heard of such a thing as an elephant’s going to jail.”
“That’s the idea. We’ll use that for an advertisement,” cried the ever alert showman, slapping his thighs. “Emperor, the performing elephant of the Great Sparling Combined Shows, jailed for assault. Fine, fine! How’ll that look in the newspapers? Why, men, it will fill the tent when we get to the next stand, whether we have the elephant or not.”