'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