“Two logs with branches broken off near the trunks, a flat-topped stump of considerable size, and a curious hanging basket affair formed by a lacing of vine loops completed the furnishings. On the floor was a pile of freshly plucked leaves.
“‘You will really have to forgive the appearance of things,’ apologized my host. ‘You see I was at lunch when I heard the shouts and so jumped right up from the table and made my way to the thicket. Besides, I moved in only last night. Nothing fancy, I’ll admit; but comfortable. I was rather taken with the rustic furniture—so in keeping with a place of this kind, don’t you think? But do sit down!’
“And, motioning me to accept one of the logs while he took the other, the big fellow swung one foot into the basket-like contrivance of which I have spoken, leaned back in an attitude of perfect contentment and rumbled something about ‘his idea of solid comfort.’ Then, noting that my eye was upon the queer-looking swing that supported his foot, he added:
“‘Ah, I see you are interested in this little invention of mine. A combination hammock and provider, if you please. Hammock for the reason you already see; provider because—’
“And at that he set the foot that lay in the loops of the vine to pumping so hard that the whole of the roof began to rock as if shaken by some mighty wind. Scores upon scores of leaves soon carpeted the floor. These the ponderous fellow swept together with the tip of his trunk without so much as leaving his seat, and then added them to the half-eaten pile I had noticed.
“‘A rather clever idea, I should say,’ said he, with some show of pride, ‘that is, if one doesn’t mind eating the shingles off one’s own house. Of course, you see the point: roof, shingles—leaves. Ha! Ha! I thought you would.’ And with that he laughed as though he had made quite the best joke in all the world. But in another moment, he had dropped into silence only to break it again to inquire my name.
“‘Diggeldy Dan,’ I replied. ‘And yours?’
“‘Gray Ears, the Elephant,’ he answered as his look suddenly changed to one of great soberness. ‘Not just Gray Ears, mind you, nor yet merely Elephant, but “Gray Ears, the Elephant.” In fact, it is what one might call a whole sentence of a name. However, aside from the fact that it does not well lend itself to being nicknamed, I cannot say much for it. For, in the first place—just as there are two sides to every story so are there to every ear. And the under side of an elephant’s ear is ofttimes a rare pink and frequently as speckled as the nether part of a trout. As for the phrase, “the Elephant,” it is absolutely and positively silly. For, to look at me, you would not suppose me a bumblebee, nor yet a bobolink, now would you? Still, such is my name and I make the most of it. But, to change the tune of our talk, tell me: Whence have you come and why did you run away from the circus?’
“Answering, I told him my story and ended by adding that had he not prevented I should have shouted most lustily and so called back those who, doubtless, were still in pursuit of me.
“‘For,’ said I, ‘it was quite wrong of me to have run away in the first place.’