“Oh, then this is the same elephant?” asked Mrs. Martin.
“Yes. He wouldn’t have harmed your little boy. Burmah is as gentle as a baby,” and the keeper let the elephant wind its big trunk around him while he rubbed the animal’s chest. “He just got a bit excited; that’s all.”
Trouble laughed, called the big beast “my nellifunt,” fed it more peanuts, and then the party went into the tent where the performance was soon to take place.
Soon after they were all in their seats, late comers being hustled off the track by the circus men, there was a blast of music, a blare of trumpets, and the opening procession started to wind its way around the dirt ring. Inside the big circle were other rings and platforms. Sawdust and finely chipped wood was scattered over the brown earth and the grass, crushed under thousands of trampling feet.
“Oh, isn’t this wonderful—just wonderful!” murmured Janet, as the gayly attired horses paraded around and the band played stirring music.
“It’s nifty!” Ted exclaimed.
Then Janet, turning her head to look sideways across the seated throng, saw something that made her exclaim:
“Oh, Mother! Look!”
“What! Has Trouble fallen through the seats?” asked Mrs. Martin.
“No!” answered Janet. “But there’s the man who pulled Trouble out of the way of the elephant! There he is, sitting right over there!” and Janet pointed. “See him!”