any of their horses too were quite upset by
this whirlwind that galloped howling through their midst, and in a few
minutes, after a little plunging and rearing and kicking, the whole
troop were following on Moti's heels.

Far in advance, Moti continued his wild career. Presently in his course
he came to a great field of castor-oil plants, ten or twelve feet high,
big and bushy, but quite green and soft. Hoping to escape from the back
of his fiery steed Moti grasped one in passing, but its roots gave way,
and he dashed on, with the whole plant looking like a young tree
flourishing in his grip.

The enemy were in battle array, advancing over the plain, their king
with them confident and cheerful, when suddenly from the front came a
desperate rider at a furious gallop.

'Sire!' he cried, 'save yourself! the enemy are coming!'

'What _do_ you mean?' said the king.

'Oh, sire!' panted the messenger, 'fly at once, there is no time to
lose. Foremost of the enemy rides a mad giant at a furious gallop. He
flourishes a tree for a club and is wild with anger, for as he goes he
cries, "You wait till I get hold of you! I'll skin you alive! I'll wring
your neck! I'll break every bone in your body!" Others ride behind, and
you will do well to retire before this whirlwind of destruction comes
upon you.'

Just then out of a cloud of dust in the distance the king saw Moti
approaching at a hard gallop, looking indeed like a giant compared with
the little beast he rode, whirling his castor-oil plant, which in the
distance might have been an oak tree, and the sound of his revilings and
shoutings came down upon the breeze! Behind him the dust cloud moved to
the sound of the thunder of hoofs, whilst here and there flashed the
glitter of steel. The sight and the sound struck terror into the king,
and, turning his horse, he fled at top speed, thinking that a regiment
of yelling giants was upon him; and all his force followed him as fast
as they might go. One fat officer alone could not keep up on foot with
that mad rush, and as Moti came galloping up he flung himself on the
ground in abject fear. This was too much for Moti's excited pony, who
shied so suddenly that Moti went flying over his head like a sky rocket,
and alighted right on the top of his fat foe.

Quickly regaining his feet Moti began to swing his plant round his head
and to shout:

'Where are your men? Bring them up and I'll kill them. My regiments!
Come on, the whole lo