ouldn't make you any
worse. But, I say, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," replied Singh. "Take it home, I suppose. I came here
to England to be educated and made into an English gentleman, not to be
turned into a low-caste mahout."

"Oh, what's the good of being so waxy? Look at the fun of the thing!
Here, I know; let's finish dressing, and then send old Wrench to tell
Mr Ramball that we have found his elephant, or that he has found us."

"But he won't be up till it's time to ring the six o'clock bell. What
time is it now?"

"I don't know. About half-past one, I should think," cried Glyn,
laughing merrily.

"There you go again! You know it must be much later than that. Yet you
will keep on saying things to make me wild. Are you going to help me
get out of this dreadful scrape?"

"It isn't your scrape. It's only an accident. You talked to the beast
in the old language, and it came after you again, just like a dog after
its own master."

"Look here," said Singh, "do you know where Wrench sleeps?"

"Yes."

"Where?" cried Singh eagerly.

"In his bed."

"Oh!" roared Singh passionately; and hearing his loud voice the elephant
grunted and began to rise slowly.

"There, I knew you would do it," cried Glyn, who was bubbling over with
fun. "He's coming upstairs."

"Oh!" cried Singh again, with an ejaculation of dismay, as he hurried to
the window, thrust out his head, and shouted something that sounded like
"Gangarroo rubble dubble."

But whatever it meant, it stopped the elephant from crashing through a
piece of palisading, and made it kneel again with its head over a
flowerbed, and begin picking all the blossoms within its reach.

"Oh dear, just look at him!" cried Singh piteously. "And here you are
laughing as if it were the best fun you have ever seen!"

"Well, so it is," cried Glyn--"a regular game!"

"Game! Why, I feel as if I could run away to guardian at the hotel, and
never show my face here again."

"Here, don't be such a jolly old stupid, making _Kunchinjingas_ out of
pimples. Here, I know what I'll do. Of course we couldn't get to old
Wrench's place. He sleeps in a turn-up bed in his pantry, I believe.
I'd soon turn him down, if I could," cried Glyn, as he poured the
contents of his jug into the basin.

"But you had an idea," said Singh.

_Bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble_, came from the basin as the boy thrust
in his face.

Singh uttered a sound like a snarl.

"