little in exasperated protest. The elephants, too, perhaps felt the
humility of their position, accustomed though they might be to it by many
years of sordid slavery. It may be, too, that the sight of that
patronising and ignorant crowd, the crush and pack of the High Street, the
silly sniggering, the triumphant jangle of the Cathedral bells, thrust
through their slow and heavy brains some vision long faded now, but for an
instant revived, of their green jungles, their hot suns, their ancient
royalty and might. They realised perhaps a sudden instinct of their power,
that they could with one lifting of the hoof crush these midgets that
hemmed them in back to the pulp whence they came, and so go roaming and
bellowing their freedom through the streets and ways of the city. The
larger of the two suddenly raised his head and trumpeted; with his dim
uplifted eyes he caught sight of the Archdeacon's rich and gleaming top-
hat shining, as an emblem of the city's majesty, above the crowd. It
gleamed in the sun, and he hated it. He trumpeted again and yet again,
then, with a heavy lurching movement, stumbled towards the pavement, and
with little fierce eyes and uplifted trunk heaved towards his enemies.

The crowd, with screams and cries, fell back in agitated confusion. The
Archdeacon, caught by surprise, scarcely realising what had occurred,
blinded a little by the sun, stood where he was. In another movement his
top-hat was snatched from his head and tossed into air....

He felt the animal's hot breath upon his face, heard the shouts and cries
around him, and, in very natural alarm, started back, caught at anything
for safety (he had tumbled upon the broad and protective chest of Samuel
Hogg), and had a general impression of whirling figures, of suns and roofs
and shining faces and, finally, the high winds of heaven blowing upon his
bare head.