The two lads glanced across the fields towards the orchard where the elephant had eaten his fill of apples, and, seeing nobody near, they both broke bounds by swinging their legs over the palings and dropping on the other side by the fat little man.
Glyn offered his hand to help him up, and Ramball took it and shook it.
“By-and-by,” he said. “I am all right here.—And how are you, my hero?” he continued, extending his hand to Singh.
“Quite well,” said Singh good-humouredly, looking at the showman but in imagination seeing the great elephant instead.
“That’s right,” cried Ramball. “You look it—hearty, both of you!”
“Where’s the elephant?” said Singh.
“Oh, he’s all right, sir. Fine.”
“Is he coming into the town?” cried Glyn.
“What, here, sir? Bless you, no! He’s in Birmingham, where we are doing a splendid business; crowded houses—tents, I mean—twice a day.”
“And what are you doing here?” cried Singh.