“Well then, don’t do it again.”
“No, sor.”
“Go on slowly now,” cried Murray, and progress was again made.
“An’ I should think we would go slowly,” muttered Tim. “I belave I haven’t a whole bone left, and what’s more, I didn’t light me pipe.”
“And you must not now,” cried Frank, laughing. “Oh, I did get such a switch from one of those canes.—How did you get on?”
“Something nearly pulled me out of the howdah,” replied Ned, “and I’m a bit scratched.”
“Bit scratched, sor? Look at me,” cried Tim, showing his bleeding hands. “These baskets, if ye are to have a ride in ’em, ought to have a lid to shut down.”
The elephants uttered a low sigh now and then, as they shuffled and splashed along the muddy track, whose gloomy monotony was so wearisome that Ned turned at last to his companion.
“I say,” he cried, “is it all going to be like this?”
Frank laughed.