I gave Sammy up from that moment. He was well carved, a work of art, in fact, but he was essentially modern, and I was living in the antique.
"Hustle along to the Zoo," I cried, with some impatience, and I was truly "hustled."
"Here we is," said Sammy, settling down on his haunches at the end of a five-mile trot. "Dis is it."
We had stopped before a gate not entirely unlike those the Japanese erect before popular places of amusement they frequent.
I descended from the chair and was greeted by an attendant who demanded to know what I wished to see.
"The animals," said I.
He laughed. "Well," he said, "I'll show you what I've got, but truly most of them have gone off on vacation."
"Is the Trojan Horse here?" I demanded.
"No," said he. "He's in the repair shop. One of his girders is loose, and the hinges on his door rusted and broke last week. His interior needs painting, and his left hind-leg has been wobbly for a long time. It was really dangerous to keep him longer without repairs."