"Don't hang onto Dhondaram on my account," said Matt. "I've told Ben Ali what to expect if he ever comes near me again."
"That's you!" exulted McGlory. "All your scare-talk, Burton, goes clean over Matt's head."
The showman pulled off his coat and leaned back in his seat reflectively. He did not seem to have heard McGlory's observation.
"I've got a notion," began Burton, "that——" He paused.
"What's the notion?" urged the cowboy. "It ain't like you to hang fire, Burton."
"Well," pursued Burton, "it's this way: I've got an elephant on my hands that can't be handled by any white trainer in the show. Dhondaram can handle the brute to the queen's taste. What's the answer?"
"You don't mean to say," expostulated Matt, "that you're going to keep Dhondaram with the show just to take charge of Rajah?"
"It's either that or sell the elephant," declared Burton.
"Then, sufferin' cats!" cried McGlory, "sell the brute. You're more kinds of a bungler, Burton, than I know how to lay tongue to. Keep Dhondaram with the show, and he'll do something, before you're through with him, that will hurt."
"I'll sleep on it," muttered Burton. "I've only got four elephants, and I need Rajah."