That is how it had happened. And now, having gotten the treat, the big animal allowed his driver to guide him back into the parade line again.
The crowd, once the scare had passed, surged back toward the curb again, to view the remainder of the procession. The elderly gentleman just had time to pass Trouble into his father’s arms when they were almost swept off their feet by the surge of the throng. Mr. Martin was anxious to get back to Mr. Harrison’s house, from the vantage point of which his wife and the Curlytops had seen the rescue. But before he went he wanted to know the name of the old gentleman who had snatched Trouble from under the elephant’s big feet.
“Won’t you tell me where you live, so I may call and thank you more formally?” asked Mr. Martin, as he took a firmer hold of his little son.
“Oh, it wasn’t much of anything—I mean on my part,” said the white-haired man, as he made his way toward his sweet-faced wife. “I am——”
But just as he was telling his name there came another rush on the part of the crowd, and he was swept away from Mr. Martin before the Curlytops’ father could hear what was said.
“I can’t see good down here! I want to see the nellifunts and the parade!” cried William, for the crowd was closing in around him and he could not peer over the heads of the people.
“Trouble, you were a bad little boy to go down there all by yourself,” said his father, as he struggled to make a path through the throng to get back to the stoop. “You must never do it again.”
“No, sir, I won’t,” the little fellow promised, and then he thought of nothing more except the parade, which again he could view as his father mounted the steps.
“Oh, what a fright I had!” murmured Mrs. Martin, as she took William from his father’s arms and stood him on the stool once more. “Trouble, why did you do it?”
“I wanted to give peanuts to the nellifunt,” was all he said, never turning his head, for his gaze was fixed on a cage load of monkeys which came along just then.