A BAD ELEPHANT.
"Great spark-plugs!"
Motor Matt was passing the canvas walls of the menagerie tent of the
"Big Consolidated" when a human form ricocheted over the top of it and
landed directly in front of him on a pile of hay. The dropping of the
man on the hay was accompanied by a wild sound which the king of the
motor boys recognized as the trumpeting of an angry elephant. Following
this came the noise of quick movements on the other side of the wall,
and hoarse voices giving sharp commands.
Matt ran to the man who had fallen on the hay. He was sitting up and
staring about him blankly.
"Well, if it isn't Archie Le Bon!" exclaimed Matt. "What sort of way is
that to come out of a tent, Le Bon?"
"Couldn't help myself, Matt," was the answer. "A couple of tons of mad
elephant gave me a starter. Gee! No more of that in mine. I'm glad this
hay happened to be here."
Le Bon got up. Evidently his brain was dizzy, for he supported himself
against a guy rope.
"Was it Rajah?" asked Matt.
"Yes."
"Don't you know any better than to fool with that big lump of iniquity?"
"I do now. Burton has offered twenty-five dollars to any one connected
with the show who'll take Rajah out in the parade. Thought I'd try it,
and I began by doing my best to make friends with the brute. Rajah was
about two seconds wrapping his trunk around me and heaving me over the
wall. I'm in luck at that, I suppose. The big fellow might have slammed
me on the ground and danced a hornpipe on me."
"You don't mean to say that Burton is going to have Rajah in the
parade!" exclaimed Matt.
"Says he is," answered Le Bon, "but I'll bet money he won't get any
one to ride the elephant. You'd better trot along inside. Your Dutch
pard, Carl, had a row with me. We both wanted to try and manage
Rajah and annex the twenty-five, and the only way we could settle the
question was by drawing straws. For all I know, Carl may be trying to
make friends with Rajah now. Head him off, Matt, or there'll be a dead
Dutchman on the grounds."
"Carl must be crazy!" exclaimed Matt, whirling around and darting under
the canvas.
Archie Le Bon was an acrobat, and one of several brothers who had a
hair-raising act in the circus ring; and if Archie couldn't manage
Rajah, it was a foregone conclusion that Carl wouldn't be able to.
Still, it was like Carl to be willing to try something of the sort, and
the young motorist was eager to call a halt in proceedings before it
was too late.
Inside the "animal top" a crowd of men was belaboring Rajah with clubs
and sharp prods. The elephant, chained to stakes firmly planted in the
ground, was backing away as far as the chains would permit, head up and
trunk in the air. Boss Burton, proprietor and manager of the show, was
directing operations.
Matt's Dutch pard was very much in evidence. Armed with a piece of
sharpened iron, he was hopping around like a pea on a hot griddle,
taking a hack at Rajah every time he saw an opening. Joe McGlory was
hopping around, too, trying to grab the excited Dutchman and snake him
out of harm's way.
Suddenly Rajah lowered his head and executed a wide sweep with his
trunk, in a half circle. Carl and a _mahout_ who had charge of the
other elephants had their feet knocked from under them. The _mahout_
was thrown flat and quickly dragged to safety, while Carl was stood on
his head in a bucket--a bucket that happened to be filled with water.
McGlory caught Carl by the heels and dragged him out into the centre
of the tent, the Dutchman thrashing his arms and sputtering as he slid
over the ground.
"Confound the brute!" roared Boss Burton; "I'll either take the kinks
out of him and have him in the parade, or I'll shoot him. Leave him
alone for half an hour, and then we'll maul him some more. How's Le
Bon?"
"Not a scratch," Archie Le Bon answered for himself, coming in under
the canvas. "But I might have had a broken head."
"You've had enough?" queried Burton.
"A great plenty, thank you. I'm no elephant trainer, Burton, and while
I'd like to make a little extra money I guess I'll look for something
that's more congenial."
"Dot's me, too," said Carl to Matt and McGlory. "I don'd vas some
elephant trainers, I bed you. Vat a ugliness old Racha has! Dot trunk
oof his hit me like a railroadt train."
"You were going to try and ride the elephant in the parade, Carl?"
demanded Matt.
"I vas t'inking oof id vonce, aber never any more. He iss vorse as I
t'ought."
"I heard what he was up to, Matt," put in McGlory, "and hit the high
places for here. Arrived just in time to see Le Bon go out between the
edge of the wall and the edge of the tent top. Sufferin' skyrockets,
but it was quick! Everybody rushed at Rajah, and Carl was right in the
thick of it. I thought he'd be smashed into a cocked hat before I could
get hold of him."
"Who vas der feller vat left dot pucket oof vater in der vay?" grumbled
Carl, mopping his tow hair with a red cotton handkerchief. "Id vas
righdt under me ven I come down. I don'd like dot. Id vas pad enough
mitoudt any fancy drimmings in der vay oof a pail oof vater."
"Well, it's a lesson for you to leave Rajah alone."
"T'anks, I know dot. Oof he vas der only elephant vat dere iss, I
vouldn't haf nodding to do mit him. Vile I'm vaiding for dot fordune to
come from India I haf got to lif, but I vill shdarve pefore I dry to
make a lifing taking care oof Racha. Br-r-r, you old sgoundrel!" and
Carl turned and shook his fist at Rajah.
Just at this moment Boss Burton stepped up to Matt and his friends.
"Here's a hard-luck proposition!" he glowered. "My biggest elephant
raises Cain in a way he never did while Ben Ali had charge of him. Ben
Ali was a villain, but he knew how to manage elephants. But Rajah goes
in the parade, you can bet your pile on _that_."
"You don't mean it, Burton!" cried Motor Matt.
"Oh, don't I?" and there was a resolute gleam in the showman's eyes as
he faced Matt. "You watch and see," he added.
"You're taking a lot of chances if you stick to that notion," grunted
McGlory. "The brute's liable to smash a few cages and let loose a lion
or two. By the time you foot the bill, Burton, you'll find you're
riding a mighty expensive hobby."
"Rajah goes in the parade," shouted the angry showman, "or I put a
bullet into him. I've got my mad up now."
"Who'll take him?" queried Matt.
"If I can't find any one to put him through his paces, by gorry I'll do
it myself!"
"Then the Big Consolidated," said McGlory, "might as well look for
another boss."
"See here, Burton," went on Matt, "you've been having the aëroplane tag
your string of four elephants during the parade, and Rajah's been at
the end of the string and right in front of the flying machine. You've
got to give the machine another place. I'll not take chances with it,
if Rajah's in the march. You ought to remember what a close call the
brute gave us in Lafayette."
"Nobody's going to change places in the parade!" declared Burton.
He was a man of mercurial temperament, and could only be managed by
firmness.
"Either Rajah stays out of the procession," exclaimed Motor Matt
calmly, "or the _Comet_ does."
"And you can paste that in your hat, Burton," added McGlory. "What Pard
Matt says goes."
"Oh, hang it," growled Burton, coming to his senses; "if you fellows
bear down on me like that, of course you win out; but I hate to have a
measly elephant butt into my plans and make me change 'em. Now----"
"Say, Mr. Burton," spoke up a canvasman, stepping to the showman's side
and touching his arm, "there's a dark-skinned mutt in a turban what
wants ter see ye in the calliope tent."
Burton whirled on the canvasman.
"Dark skinned man in a turban?" he repeated. "Does he look like a
Hindoo?"
"Dead ringer for one."
"Maybe it's Ben Ali----"
"No, he ain't. I know Ben Ali, and this ain't him."
"That tin horn won't show up among these tents in a hurry, Burton,"
said McGlory. "He knows he'll get what's coming, if he does."
"Then," continued Burton, "it's dollars to dimes it's Aurung Zeeb."
"Not him, neither," averred the canvasman. "This bloke wears a red
tablecloth and carries a basket. Looks ter me like he had somethin' he
wanted ter sell."
"I'll go and talk with him. Come on, Matt, you and McGlory."
Matt, McGlory, and Carl followed the showman under the canvas and into
the calliope "lean-to." Here there was a chocolate-colored individual
answering the canvasman's description. But he was not wearing the red
tablecloth. Instead, he had spread it on the ground and was sitting on
it. In front of him was a round, flat-topped basket, and in his hands
was a queer-looking musical instrument.
"You want to see me?" demanded the showman, as he and the boys came to
a halt in front of the Hindoo.
The latter swept his eyes over the little group.
"You Burton Sahib?" he inquired, bringing his gaze to a rest on the
showman.
"Yes," was the answer.
"You look, see what I can do?" queried the Hindoo.
"If you've got something you want to sell----"
"The honorable sahib makes the mistake. _Dekke!_"
Then, with this native word, which signifies "look," the Hindoo dropped
his eyes to the round, flat basket and brought the end of the musical
instrument to his lips.