them days they seem like a mince-pie dream. We did
our handsomest to make those Nutmeggers believe that they needed Rajah
in their business, that he would be handy to have around the place. But
they couldn't see it. We argued with about fifty horny-handed
plow-pushers, showin' 'em how Rajah could pull more'n a string of oxen a
block long, and could be let out for stump-digging in summer, or as a
snow-plough in winter. We tried liverymen, storekeepers, summer
cottagers; but the nearest we came to making a sale was to a brewer
who'd just built a new house with red and yellow fancy woodwork all over
the front of it. He thought Rajah might do for a lawn ornament and make
himself useful as a fountain during dry spells, but when he noticed that
Rajah didn't have any tusks he said it was all off. He knew where he
could buy a whole cast-iron menagerie, with all the frills thrown in, at
half the price.

And we wa'n't holding Rajah at any swell figure. He was on the bargain
counter when the sale began. Every day was a fifty-per-cent. clearance
with us. We were closing out our line of elephants on account of
retiring from business, and Rajah was a remnant.

But they wouldn't buy. Generally they threatened to set the dogs on us.
It was worse than trying to sell a cargo of fur overcoats in Panama. In
time it began to leak through into our heads that Rajah wa'n't
negotiable. Didn't seem to trouble him any. He was just as glad to be
with us as at first, followed us around like a pet poodle, and got away
with his bale of hay as regular as a Rialto hamfatter raidin' the free
lunch.

"Is it a life sentence, Pinckney?" says I. "Is this twin foster-brother
act to a mislaid elephant to be a continuous performance? If it is we'd
better hit the circuit regular and draw our dough on salary day. For me,
I'm sick of havin' folks act like we was a quarantine station. Let's
anchor Rajah to something solid and skiddoo."

But Pinckney couldn't stand it to think of Rajah being left to suffer.
He was gettin' kind of sore on the business, just the same. Then he
plucks a thought. We wires to a friend of his in Newport to run down to
the big circus headquarters and jolly them into sending an
elephant-trainer up to us.

"A trainer will know how to coax Rajah off," says he, "and perhaps he
will take him as a gift."

"It's easy money," says I.

But it wasn't. That duck at Newport sends back a message that covers
four sheets of yellow paper, tellin'