“But that won’t go through his skin.”
“No, I suppose not. He’ll think you are tickling him. Here, shall I try my knife?”
“No, no, no! It will make him mad.”
“But we must do something,” cried Glyn, who couldn’t sit still for laughing. “Can’t you turn his head? We are mowing and harrowing all these flower-beds with this wood-stack he’s dragging at his heels. Ah, that’s better!” continued Glyn, as, finding the impediment rather unpleasant, the animal turned off at right angles and reached out with its trunk to remove the obstacles attached to its leg.
“Why, we are anchored! Oh, now he’s off again. Why, where’s he going?”
“I think he’s going to make for the hedge where he came through first, in the cricket-field.”
“But we couldn’t get through there with all this garden-fence. It would catch in the hedge, and we should be dragging that too all through the town.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” cried Singh.
“Let’s scramble down and try to stop him. If you take hold of one leg I’ll hang on by his tail if I can reach it.—Ah, that’s better!”
For the elephant suddenly came to a standstill about a third of the way across the playground.