"Give me your hand!"
"No!"
"Give me your hand!"
I did not give him my hand--he snatched it. As he did so, something went. We did not stop to see what. How he managed I did not, and do not, understand. But I know he gripped my hand as in an iron vice, started off at about seventy miles an hour, and made me keep up with him.
"Don't!" I cried; as well as I could while I gasped for breath.
"Come!" he said.
And I had to come. And before I knew it we were standing on the shore, and I was half beside myself with rage.
"How dare you? Do you suppose that I'm an idiot, and that you can haul me about as if you were my keeper? What did you do it for?"
"I fancy I saved your life."
"Saved my life! Saved your own, you mean. You are an elephant, not I; and if you would only relieve the ice of the weight of your huge bulk, everything would be all right. But you are so grossly selfish that you hate the idea of anyone engaging in a pleasure which you cannot share--and better still, go home; and let me amuse myself exactly as I choose."