It was, indeed, bewildering. A monster beside which the horse that drew the van seemed no bigger than a dog—a monster whose height exceeded that of the mountebank's house on wheels.
Then to one of the boys came an inspiration, and he cried proudly:
"I know what it is. I saw the picture of one in a book my father was showing me. It's an elephant!"
"What a whopper! an elephant's not a great brute like that. You don't know what you're talking about," snapped the captain, ill-pleased at a private having ventured an explanation of the wonder.
This silenced the youngster, and as none of the others could offer any better suggestion the little company, feeling decidedly nervous, made haste to climb the trees that lined the road just as the mountebanks and their elephant reached the top of the hill. Like a band of frightened monkeys they got among the branches uttering cries of fear, and then, with the effrontery of monkeys, took their positions as close as possible to the road so that they might obtain a full view of the strolling performers, and of the wonderful animal that sauntered so peacefully along beside their conveyance.
"You needn't be afraid," called out one of the mountebanks reassuringly. He was only a boy himself, and his keen eyes had taken in the situation at a glance. "There's no harm in Nalla. He wouldn't hurt anybody unless they hurt him first."
And as he spoke the lad stroked lovingly the trunk of the great creature that responded to the caress with little grunts of satisfaction.
At this assurance all the boys descended from their refuge in the trees, and in a gingerly hesitating fashion, for they were still a little nervous, drew near the boy who was so manifestly in the good graces of the monster.
What puzzled the boys was that they saw no sign of either the father or mother of the little players, of whom there were four, two boys and two girls.
On the front platform of the van sat a girl of not more than sixteen, holding in her lap another of about five years of age.