“Brought down his trunk across my back,” panted the proprietor. “My word, he can hit hard!”
“Yes, sir; I know. Knocked me flat on my back, he did.”
“Knocked me on my face,” cried the proprietor angrily. “Look here,” he said, “is there any skin off my nose? I fell against a tree.”
“Took a little bit of the bark off,” grumbled the man, who did not seem at all sympathetic. “Hadn’t you better let him fill hisself full, sir, and have a rest? He’ll come easy, perhaps, then.”
“Do you want me to stand still here and see a devouring elephant go on eating till he ruins me? We must all join together and drive him out.”
“But he’ll drive us out, sir,” said the man in a tone full of remonstrance.
“Then we must try again. I am not going to be beaten by a beast like that.”
“Look here, my man,” said Morris, “hadn’t you better tie him up to one of the trees and leave him till to-morrow? They do this sort of thing abroad, I hear, by tying the elephant’s legs or ankles to the trunks of trees.”
“What!” shouted Ramball. “Why, he’d take them all up by the roots and go cantering through the town, doing no end of mischief, with them hanging to his legs. Think I want to have to pay for the trees as well as the apples?”
“Then—er—lasso him and lead him home.”