Rajah suddenly transferred his weight from one side to the other, and the ladder shook unsteadily. Mr. Carter, with an apprehensive glance at the ground, prepared to descend; but the keeper shouted in a tone of evident alarm:
"Take your foot off the ladder, sir! Sit down. For heaven's sake, sit down!"
The ladder wavered under his feet, and Mr. Carter waited for no explanations. With a frenzied grasp at the red and gold trappings he sat down, and the ladder fell with a thud, leaving him marooned on Rajah's back. On the instant the band struck into "Yankee Doodle," and Rajah, with a toss of his head and an excited shake of his whole frame, fell into a ponderous two-step.
"Stop him! Hold him! The ladder—bring the ladder!" shouted Mr. Carter. His voice was drowned in the blare of trumpets.
Without giving ear to further orders, the elephant plunged toward the opening between the two tents and danced into the ring at the head of a long line of gilded waggons and gaudy floats. The grand opening march of all the players and all the animals had begun.
Peter looked at the Willowbrook party. They were leaning on each other's shoulders, weak with laughter. He took one glance into the ring, where Mr. Carter's aristocratic profile was rising and falling in jerky harmony with the music. And in the shadow of the lion cage Peter collapsed; he rocked back and forth, hugging himself in an ecstasy of mirth. "Gee! Oh, gee!" he gasped. "Will ye look at the dignity of his position now?" In one perfect, soul-satisfying moment past slights were blotted out, and those booked for the future were forgiven.
Rajah completed the circuit and two-stepped back into the animal tent drunk with glory. Half a dozen hands held the ladder while Mr. Carter, white with rage, descended to the ground. The language which he used to the keepers, Peter noted with concern, should never have been spoken in Master Bobby's presence.
The elephant trainer waited patiently until the gentleman stopped for breath, then he took off his hat and suggested in a tone of deprecation:
"Beg your pardon, sir, but the price for leading the grand march is fifty cents at the evening performance."