But as the rattling noise was continued, Singh sat up in bed.
“I say,” he continued, “what’s the good of talking such stuff?”
“Stuff, eh? You come and see. Here’s that great elephant right in the middle of the playground.”
“Tell you I don’t believe you, and I shan’t get up.”
“Ugh! What an old heretic you are! Didn’t he get away last night and go no one knows where? Well, he’s here.”
“I say, though, is he really?”
Clinkitty, clank! clinkitty, clank!
“Hear that?” cried Glyn. “Now you will believe. He’s got in here somehow, and he’s dragging that chain and the big iron peg all about the playground. Here, I know, Singhy,” continued Glyn in a high state of excitement, “he’s come after you.”
“Rubbish!” shouted Singh; and, springing out of bed, he rushed to the window, where in the gradually broadening dawn, half-across the playground, looking grey and transparent in the morning mist, the huge bulk of the elephant loomed up and looked double its natural size.
“There, then,” cried Glyn, “will you believe me now?”