“Now if I go too fast for any of you baby elephants,
just squeak and I’ll stop,” said the big,
kind elephant. “We will go only as fast
as you little chaps can walk.”
“You are very kind,” said Mrs. Stumptail,
helping Umboo, with her trunk, to get over a rough
bit of ground.
On and on marched the elephants to find a new place
in the jungle, where they would be safe from the hunters,
and where they could find more sweet bark, leaves
and palm nuts to eat. Umboo walked near his mother,
as the other small elephant boys and girls walked near
their mothers, and the bigger elephants helped the
smaller and weaker ones over the rough places.
Pretty soon, in the jungle, the herd of elephants
came to what seemed a big silver ribbon, shining in
the sun. It sparkled like a looking glass on
a circus wagon, though, as yet, neither Umboo, nor
any of the other big animals had ever seen a show.
“What is that?” asked Umboo of his mother.
“That is a river of water,” she answered.
“It is water to drink and wash in.”
“Oh, I never could drink all that water,”
said the baby elephant.
“No one expects you to!” said his mother,
with an elephant laugh. “But we are going
to swim across it to get on the other side.”
“What is swimming?” asked Umboo.
“It means going in the water, and wiggling your
legs so that you will float across and not sink,”
said Mrs. Stumptail. “See, we are at the
jungle river now, and we will go across.”
“Oh, but I’m afraid!” cried Umboo,
holding back. “I don’t want to go
in all that water.”
Mrs. Stumptail reached out her trunk and caught her
little boy around the middle of his stomach.
“You must do as I tell you!” she said.
“Up you go!” and she lifted him high in
the air.
“Oh, did she let you fall?” suddenly asked
Chako, who, with the other animals in the circus tent,
was eagerly listening to the story Umboo was telling.
“Did she let you fall?”
SLIDING DOWN HILL
“Look here!” cried Snarlie, the tiger,
when Chako, the monkey, had asked his question.
“Look here, Chako! You mustn’t interrupt
like that when Umboo is talking! Let him tell
his story, just as you let me tell mine. And
maybe Umboo’s jungle story will go in a book,
as mine did.”
“Is yours in a book?” asked Humpo, the
camel.
“It is,” answered Snarlie, and he did
not speak at all proudly as some tigers might.
“My story is in a book, and there are pictures
of me, and also Toto, the little Indian princess.
For I came from India, just as Umboo did.”
“Now who is talking?” asked Woo-Uff, the
lion. “I thought we were to listen to Umboo’s
story.”
“That’s right—we were,”
said Snarlie. “I’m sorry I talked
so much. But I was telling Chako about the books
we are in, Woo-Uff.”
“Yes, books are all well enough,” said
the lion, “but give me a good piece of meat.
Now go on, Umboo. What was it Chako asked?”
