He went straight to it without hesitation, and as he got close up, the huge beast began to mutter and grumble, and raised its trunk, while the boy felt it creep round his waist like a serpent and hold him tightly.
“What’s he going to do next?” thought Glyn. “He must know I’m not Singh. Why doesn’t he come? Hasn’t hurt himself, has he?”
Just then Singh appeared at their bedroom window, and called to the intruder softly, with the result that the trunk was uncurled, raised in the air, and used like a trumpet, while a shuffling movement suggested that the animal was about to rise.
“Kneel!” cried Singh, and the animal crouched once more.
“Now you get on his neck, and sit there till I come down.”
“It’s all very well,” grumbled Glyn; “but I don’t much like the job while you are away.”
All the same, the boy did not hesitate, but took hold of the crouching beast’s ear, planted the edge of his shoe in one of the wrinkles of the trunk, and climbed into the mahout’s place, his steed raising and lowering its ears and muttering and grumbling impatiently as if waiting to be told to rise.
Meanwhile Singh had disappeared from the window, and after what seemed a very long time made his appearance through the door.
“Oh, what a while you have been!” cried Glyn. “Now then, you had better come here and sit on him to hold him down while I go and ring the bell. Here, I say, though, it won’t make him think breakfast’s ready, will it, and send him scrambling off after buns?”
“No, no, no! Nonsense!” cried Singh.