“I’ll take a chanc’t on gittin’ them five nickels!” shouted Joe, snatching a lantern from its place on the wagon and dashing off.
Dave Brandon was conscious of the fact that the automobilists, after a sharp passage of words with Mr. Whiffin, had gone on, apparently thinking that the elephants would soon be under control.
“That’s the way with them automobile fellers,” he heard Mr. Whiffin exclaim. “Don’t keer what happens as long as they have their fling.”
Then the buggy wheels began grinding through the mud again. Mr. Spudger and his manager were in hot pursuit of elephants and men.
Dave stood, irresolute, then:
“Yes, I’ll do it,” he exclaimed, grimly. “As Joe says, if those animals should happen to bump into anything—whew!”
“What’s all that queer mumbling down there, Brownie?” cried Victor. “Hey—where are you going?”
Without making any reply, Dave unhooked a lantern from the side of the wagon and made a dash to the rear.
The rays of light flashed over three horses, whose dilated nostrils and gleaming eyes gave indication of their frightened state. They strained and tugged frantically in an effort to pull away.
“Whoa, boy, whoa!” exclaimed Dave, soothingly, to the nearest, a coal black animal. “Whoa, boy!”