“Think better of it, old man. Thou mayst have had a lucky escape. Here comes her sister and husband. Let us stand to one side and observe how they get on. Brace up, sir!”
Sven and Loke were on the outside when the keepers brought in the other pair of elephants—Loke keeping her head in an opposite direction.
Cezardis gravely introduced the newcomers, and then turned to the putative husband and asked:
“Didst thou have a good breakfast this morning, sir?”
The elephant shook his head and trumpeted dolefully. His mate stamped the ground indignantly, then rushed at him, butting him in the side. He whirled around and kicked at her. Then they locked trunks and seemed bent upon annihilating each other with their sawed-off stumpy tusks.
“How is this for married life, sir?” inquired Cezardis.
Sven turned to his audience and winked prodigiously, while his sides shook as if he were convulsed with laughter.
At this moment Loke picked up a saw-tooth palm-leaf with her trunk, and hid her face.
Cezardis allowed the putative benedict to toss him up in the air several times, and finally, by a dexterous leap, landed between the mammoth’s ears.
“The long-looked-for elephant race is about to begin. To give some idea of the individual gait, we shall first walk the animals, and then they will trot side by side for points. Do not let the disgraceful conduct of the wedded pair weigh against them. A bad breakfast tries the best of us.”