“Take a horse,” said Seymour, laughing; “of two evils always choose the least.”
“Take an elephant, Mr Prose,” cried Courtenay; “his size is double, but he’ll give you less trouble.”
“Why, that’s a rhyme, I do declare; but how shall I get upon his back?”
“Oh! he’ll take you up in his trunk, and put you on.”
“Indeed he shall not,” cried Prose, retreating some paces; “I say, Mr Interpreter, how am I to get on the top of that great beast?”
“As you please, sar. Suppose you like get up before, he lift up his leg for you to climb up. Suppose you like to get up behind, he not say nothing. Suppose you wish go up his middle, you ab ladder.”
“Well, then, Mr Interpreter, I shall feel very much obliged to you for a ladder.”
A ladder was brought. Prose, and Macallan, with his implements, ascended to the howdah, fixed on the back of the enormous brute. The remainder of the party being ready, they set off; accompanied by the deputy, the interpreter, and several other handsomely attired natives, who, out of compliment to the officers, had been ordered to attend them. The country, like most parts of India near to the coast, consisted of paddy or rice fields, under water, diversified with intersecting patches of jungle and high trees. Occasionally they passed a deeper pool, where the buffaloes, with only their horns and tips of their noses to be seen, lay, with the whole of their enormous carcasses hid under the muddy water, to defend themselves from the attacks of the mosquitoes, and the powerful rays of the sun.
“Look at the buffaloes, Prose.”
“Where, Seymour? I can’t see any. I never saw a buffalo in my life. It’s like an ox, an’t it?”