“That’s right. They’ve caught Sindbad’s roc and clipped his wings.”
“Cut them right off,” said Glyn laughingly, joining in the mirth. “Poor fellow, look how he’s moulting!”
There was a burst of laughter at this, and as it ceased another boy shouted:
“Ought its hump to wobble like that, and hang over all on one side?”
“That isn’t its hump,” cried Burney; “that’s its cistern in which it carries its drinking-water. Don’t you know they can go for days without wanting any more? Can’t you see it’s empty now?”
“Poor camel!” said one of the boys.
“Yes, poor, and no mistake! Why, it’s all in rags,” cried Burney, and the unhappy-looking beast went mincing on, to be followed by another van labelled “Birds.” Then came one labelled ominously and in very large letters, “Serpents;” those next in succession containing antelopes, nylghaus, crocodiles, eagles, rhinoceroses, zebras, monkeys, orang-outangs, chimpanzees, rib-nosed baboons, and so on, and so on, cage after cage, den after den, a procession of so many painted yellow vans drawn by very unsatisfactory-looking horses, till, as the last one came into sight far on the right, it was observed by the boys as they stood leaning their elbows on the wall that there was something special being kept for the finale, for the crowd was closing in behind and coming on surrounding this last van.
“Oh, I shall be so glad when it’s all over,” said Singh. “I would have said let’s go away ever so long ago, only the Doctor might think it disagreeable after he had given us leave to see.”
“Yes, it would have looked bad,” replied Glyn. “It seems to me such a shame,” he continued, “getting us all here to see a procession of wild beasts, and all we have seen is a camel.”
“But don’t you see—” began Singh.