I suppose you wonder how he could be jolly when he was in such trouble—his wooden leg stuck in the mud, and night coming on, when it would soon be cold and dark. And then, too, he was worried about what might happen to the Trippertrots, for he was sort of responsible for their having run away this time.
But, in spite of all that, the sailorman was real jolly, even as he pulled and tugged to get his wooden leg loose from the mud-hole. He laughed and he joked, even though there was no one there to hear him, and he even sang a little song that went something like this:
“Here I am, stuck hard and fast.
But surely I’ll get out at last.
And when I do I think I’ll take
And boil myself a chocolate cake!”
Then he whistled and sung the second verse, which tells about roasting a lemon pie, and once more he cried out:
“Oh, dear, will I ever get out of here?”
“Why, yes, I think so,” said a pleasant voice behind him, and there stood a great, big, kind elephant, with his trunk all packed ready to take a journey, and there was no man with him, only just the big elephant, all alone by himself.
“Did—did you speak?” asked the sailorman of the elephant, wondering whether he was dreaming or not.