Three little Trippertrots on their travels

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, me! Oh, my!” cried the jolly sailorman, as he pulled and struggled and twisted this way and that, trying to get his wooden leg loose. “Whatever shall I do?”

He looked all around to see if any one was coming to help him, but he could see no one, for it was still Christmas day, you remember, and I suppose most of the people were in their houses, sleeping after dinner, and the children were playing with their toys, and even the policemen must have had some presents to look at, for none of the officers were around to help the jolly sailorman.

I suppose you wonder how he could be jolly when he was in such trouble—his wooden leg stuck in the mud, and night coming on, when it would soon be cold and dark. And then, too, he was worried about what might happen to the Trippertrots, for he was sort of responsible for their having run away this time.

But, in spite of all that, the sailorman was real jolly, even as he pulled and tugged to get his wooden leg loose from the mud-hole. He laughed and he joked, even though there was no one there to hear him, and he even sang a little song that went something like this:

Then he whistled and sung the second verse, which tells about roasting a lemon pie, and once more he cried out:

“Oh, dear, will I ever get out of here?”

“Why, yes, I think so,” said a pleasant voice behind him, and there stood a great, big, kind elephant, with his trunk all packed ready to take a journey, and there was no man with him, only just the big elephant, all alone by himself.

“Did—did you speak?” asked the sailorman of the elephant, wondering whether he was dreaming or not.

“Why, yes, I did,” answered the big animal. “Have you any objections? For if you have——”

“Oh, no, not any, I do assure you,” spoke the sailor, quickly. “Only I didn’t know that elephants could speak.”

“Neither did I until I tried,” said the elephant. “One seldom does know what one can do until one tries. However, I’m glad I can speak, because I want to help you, but there are two things I’d like to mention before I do.”

“What are they?” asked the sailor. “Please ask them as quickly as you can, for my wooden leg is freezing fast in the mud, and I fear I shall never get loose in time to go get the Trippertrot children.”

“Well, my first question,” said the elephant, “is why did you sing about boiling a chocolate cake? A cake is baked, never boiled, you know.”

“Well,” said the sailor, “that just shows how little I do know. I never made a chocolate cake, though I am very fond of them, and I supposed boiling them was as good as baking.”

“Never,” spoke the elephant through his long nose. “Never!”

“Well, what is your second question?” asked the jolly sailor, thinking how strange it was for the big animal to talk.

“For my second question,” spoke the elephant, “I should like to know how you could roast a lemon pie?”

“Well, I suppose I was wrong about that, too, just as I was about the cake,” admitted the sailor.

“You were,” said the elephant, flagging his big ears, “but no matter. You will know better next time you sing. Now I am going to help you out of the mud.”

And with that, the big, kind elephant put his trunk around the sailor’s wooden leg, close to where it was stuck in the mud, and he gave a long, strong pull, that brave elephant did, and up came the wooden leg, not a bit the worse from having been stuck in the mud, and the sailor was able to stump around on it once more as well as ever.

“Ah, thank you very much,” the sailorman said to the elephant. “Now I can go get the Trippertrot children.”

“And I’ll go with you!” exclaimed the elephant. “I will let you ride on my back, and the children can ride there, too.”

“Oh, that will be fine,” cried the jolly sailor. “But how does it happen that you are going about by yourself, and are not in the circus? Especially on Christmas day.”

“That is easily explained,” said the elephant. “You see, I am so well trained that the circus men trust me to go about all alone by myself. I am a trick elephant, you know, and I go to houses and do tricks for the people, and for the children. Shall I do some tricks for you?”

“One or two, if you please,” answered the sailor, “and then we must start after those children, for it is growing late.”

So the elephant did the funny trick of standing on one leg, and waving his trunk in the air, and then he stood up on the end of his trunk and waved his four feet in the air, and that was really very good. Indeed it was!

“Now get up on my back,” the elephant said to the sailor, “and away we’ll go after those children, for I just love children.”

And then, as easily as the baby can cry when it’s hungry, or when a pin sticks in it, which I hope never happens—as easily as that, I say—the elephant lifted the sailor in his trunk, and set him upon his back.

Away they started, and that sailor knew just where to look for the Trippertrot children, for he remembered which way the auto had gone with the poor boy and girl, and, in a little while, there they were—the sailor and the jolly elephant—oh, I mean the jolly sailor and the elephant were at the house of the poor family.

They could hear laughter and shouting inside, and they knew the poor people had been made happy by the Trippertrots. So the elephant tapped on the door with his trunk, and my goodness sakes alive! How surprised Tommy and Johnny and Mary were to see the big animal standing there, with the jolly sailor on his back.

“Look! Look!” cried Mary.

“Oh, I wonder if it’s a real elephant?” asked Johnny.

“We must be dreaming!” exclaimed Tommy. “Here, Johnny, you pinch me, and that will tell if I’m awake or not.”

So Johnny pinched Tommy and he pinched his brother’s leg harder than he meant to, for Tommy cried “Ouch!” Then he knew he was awake, for he could feel the pinch as quickly as anything.

“I guess it must be a real elephant,” said Mary.

“Well, if you have some real peanuts here I can eat them,” said the elephant, speaking through his long nose. “And then you can be sure about it.” And, as it happened, Johnny did have some peanuts in his pocket, and he gave them to the elephant, who ate them, and that proved that he was real, and not a dream.

“Come!” cried the jolly sailor, “I have come to take you home, children. It is getting late, and your papa and mamma will be worried about you, and so will Suzette, the nursemaid.”

“Oh, but can’t we look at the elephant a little while, before you take him away?” asked the poor children.

“Yes,” kindly said the elephant, “I’ll stay a little while, and do some of my tricks for you.” Then he explained how he suddenly found that he could talk, and he liked it very much, and so he kept on doing it. I, myself, don’t know how an elephant can talk, so, if you please, don’t ask me why. But I know this one did it, just the same.

Then he did a lot of tricks, such as sitting down on the wash-bench, and sucking a whole lot of water up his nose, and then squirting it out again, like a fire engine. And he lifted all the children up together, as they stood on a table, and he sat down on a very strong chair, and rang the dinner bell, only, of course, everybody had had dinner, and so they didn’t eat again. And then the elephant played a mouth-organ that Tommy had given the poor boy—what do you think of that?—the elephant played it by blowing on it through his trunk.

“Well, now it’s time to go home,” said the jolly sailor at last. So they said good-by to the poor family, and Mary and Tommy and Johnny promised to send them something more to eat, and some warm clothes to wear, and the sailor said he would ask Mr. Trippertrot to get the poor man some work—and he did, I’m glad to say.

“Up on my back!” cried the elephant, as he walked out of the poor family’s house, for it was a very large house, you know, and had once belonged to a rich family, so an elephant could easily get in it through the wide doors. Then the elephant lifted Mary and Tommy and Johnny up on his back, and then the sailor—the jolly sailor, you know—and away they started through the night (for it was now dark) to the Trippertrot home. The jolly sailor knew the way very well, and so the children could enjoy themselves.

Then, all of a sudden, a man came running along. “Hold on there, Mr. Elephant!” he called.

“What is the matter?” asked the elephant.

“Why, I guess you have forgotten that you are to do your tricks in my theatre to-night,” said the man. “You must come with me, if you please.”

“So I must,” spoke the elephant. “I did forget. I can’t go along any farther with you children just now.”

“But how are we ever to get home?” asked Mary, sorrowfully.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said the elephant, kindly. “I will send my friend, the two-humped camel, along, and you can ride home on his back—you and the sailor.”

So the elephant lifted them all down off his back with his trunk, and when he had told them good-by, and promised to see them again, he went off with the man to do his tricks in the theater, and the Trippertrots and the jolly sailor were left standing in the street. And it got darker and darker.