He was always ravenously hungry, and would work till his face was streaming for a crust of bread. His devotion to Joe was untiring; every day he ran the whole journey alongside the elephants, belabouring "Rose" with an old bit of bamboo. And all the afternoon he used to fight the town-urchins who came swarming round the tent-edge to tease the elephants. He confided to me his passion for the circus, and his longing to become a tamer of lions, like George; and I promised to ask the manager to give him a start.
When this afternoon the police caught him and carried him off, he cried very bitterly, and swore he would come back to us.
***
10.30 a.m.—"Scottie" sat by the tent-mouth with his head between his hands. I bid him good morning; he made no answer. The others were at breakfast.
"What's up with 'Scottie'?" I asked.
"He was drunk at the start this morning," Joe replied, curtly.
"I wasna," "Scottie" retorted sullenly. "I'd just had one single cognac."
"I felt downright sorry for that little French lad," Joe went on.
"Dirty little runaway beast. It just served him right. I couldn't abide 'im sneaking about the tent," Maggie burst out.
"Come, don't be funny," growled Joe.
Maggie swung round on her hay-truss, turning her back on him.
"Joe's that snappy," she explained to me tearfully.
"Snappy! so'd you be, if you'd seen the job I had to get that big brute (indicating Tim) on to the road this morning, and that darned Scotchman stumbling all over the shop half boozed."
