"Not a jolly bit," said Glyn drowsily.

"I suppose it's being here in England," continued Singh, "where you people don't think so much about dressing up, and getting to be more English myself, that I don't seem to care about ornaments as I used.

Sometimes I think it was very stupid of me to want to bring such a thing to school with me in my travelling-trunk."

"Awfully," grumbled Glyn.

"What!" cried Singh sharply.

Glyn started. "Eh! What say?" he cried, and a yawn followed.

"You said `awfully.'"

"Did I?" said Glyn, more sleepily than ever.

"Why, you know you did," cried Singh petulantly.

"What did I say that for?"

"Ugh!" grunted Singh. "There, go to sleep. What's the good of talking to you?"

"Not a bit," replied Glyn; "it only sounds like _buzz, buzz_."

"I haven't patience with you," cried Singh; "when I was trying to talk quietly and sensibly about losing my belt."

"Bother your old belt!" cried Glyn. "Who wants to talk quietly and sensibly now? I came to bed to sleep, and every time I'm dozing off nicely and comfortably you begin _burr, burr, burr_, and I can't understand you a bit."

"I wish we were in India," said Singh angrily.

"I wish you were," growled Glyn.

"I should like to set a punkah-wallah to pick up a chatty of water and douse it all over you."

"He'd feel very uncomfortable afterwards," said Glyn, "if I got hold of him. Oh, bother! bother! bother!" he cried, sitting up in bed. "Now then, preach away. What do you want to say about your ugly old belt?"

"Go to sleep," cried Singh, and there was a dull sound of Glyn's head going bang down into the pillow, in which his right ear was deeply buried while his left was carefully corked with a finger, and a minute or two later nothing was heard in the dormitory but the steady restful breathing of two strong healthy lads.

"What shall we do to-day; go out somewhere for a good walk?" asked Glyn the next morning.

"No; I want to have a quiet talk. Let's go down to the jungle, as you call it," said Singh.

"Thy slave obeys," cried Glyn. "But, jungle! poor old jungle! What wouldn't I give for a ride on a good elephant again--a well-trained fellow, who would snap off boughs and turn one into a _chowri_ to whisk off the flies."

"Wouldn't old Ramball's Rajah do for you?"

"To be sure. I wonder what has become of the old boy. Roaming round the country somewhere, I suppose. What a rum old chap he was, with his hat in one hand, yellow silk handkerchief in the other, and his shiny bald head. Yes, I wonder where he is."

"Ramballing," cried Singh, with a peculiar smile on his countenance; and then he started in wonder, for Glyn made a dash at him, caught him by the wrist, and made believe to feel his pulse in the most solemn manner.

"What are you doing that for?" cried Singh.

"Wait a moment," replied Glyn.--"No. Beating quite steadily. Skin feels cool and moist."

"Why, of course," said Singh. "What do you mean?"

"I thought you must be ill to burst out with a bad joke like that."

"Oh, stuff!" cried Singh impatiently. "It's just as good as yours.

Yes," he continued thoughtfully, "it is very nice here; but I should like another ride through the old jungle; and this old row of elm-trees--pah! how different."

The two lads remained very thoughtful as they walked slowly across the cricket-field, mentally seeing the wild forest of the East with its strange palms that run from tree to tree, rising up or growing down, here forming festoons, there tangling and matting the lower growth together, and always beautiful whenever seen.

Strange musings for a couple of schoolboys, who never once connected these objects of their thoughts with the stringent master's cane--the rattan or properly _rotan_-cane or climbing-palm.

They stopped at last in their favourite place beneath the elms, and stood with their hands in their pockets and their shoulders against the park-palings--the patch that looked newish, but which was gradually growing grey under the influence of the weather that was oxidising the new nails and sending a ruddy stain through the wood.

Neither spoke, but stood gazing up through the elm boughs, their thoughts far away in Northern India, dwelling upon active monkeys, peac.o.c.ks and other gorgeously plumaged birds, tigers haunting nullahs and crouching among the reeds. All at once there was a strange panting sound, and a scratching behind them on the park-palings which made the two lads start away and turn to gaze at their late support, for the sound suggested, if not a tiger some other savage beast trying to climb the division between the Doctor's premises and the adjoining estate.

The next moment eight fat fingers appeared grasping the palings, there was the scratching of a boot on one of the supporting posts, and a round, red, fat face rose above the top of the fence like a small representation of the sun gradually topping a bank of mist upon a foggy morning.

Glyn Severn's Schooldays--by George Manville Fenn

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

HIS GREAT ATTRACTION.

"Mr Ramball!" cried the boys in a breath. "Aha! Good-morning! Only to think of me looking over here to see if I could catch sight of you two young gents, and hitting upon just the right spot, and--Oh my!"

There was a rushing sound as the wild-beast proprietor suddenly disappeared--so suddenly that, moved as by one impulse, the two lads made a dash at the palings, sprang up, and held on to look over, and see Ramball seated on the ground in the act of taking off his hat and extricating his yellow silk handkerchief to dab his bald and dewy head.

"Hurt?" cried Glyn anxiously. "Well, I--I don't quite know yet," said their unexpected visitor. "I haven't sat down as quick as that for a precious long time. Well, no, I don't think I am; it wasn't pleasant, though. But my toe might have given me notice that it was coming off that ledge. Well, how are you? If you'd come over here I'd offer to shake hands, but I would rather sit still for a few minutes to get my breath again. It seemed to be all knocked out of me at once."

The two lads glanced across the fields towards the orchard where the elephant had eaten his fill of apples, and, seeing n.o.body near, they both broke bounds by swinging their legs over the palings and dropping on the other side by the fat little man.

Glyn offered his hand to help him up, and Ramball took it and shook it.

"By-and-by," he said. "I am all right here.--And how are you, my hero?"

he continued, extending his hand to Singh.

"Quite well," said Singh good-humouredly, looking at the showman but in imagination seeing the great elephant instead.

"That's right," cried Ramball. "You look it--hearty, both of you!"

"Where's the elephant?" said Singh.

"Oh, he's all right, sir. Fine."

"Is he coming into the town?" cried Glyn.