"Well, well, so it is!" exclaimed the Tuttle person delightedly.
"He's got the eye with him this time," said Cousin Egbert admiringly.
"He's sure a wonder," said the other. "That thing had me fooled; I
thought at first it was a Russian mouse hound."
"Well, let him ride it, then," said Cousin Egbert, and I was
practically lifted into the saddle by the pair of them.
"One moment," said Cousin Egbert. "Can't you see the poor thing has a
sore throat? Wait till I fix him." And forthwith he removed his spats
and in another moment had buckled them securely high about the throat
of the giraffe. It will be seen that I was not myself when I say that
this performance did not shock me as it should have done, though I
was, of course, less entertained by it than were the remainder of our
party and a circle of the French lower classes that had formed about
us.
"Give him his head! Let's see what time you can make!" shouted Cousin
Egbert as the affair began once more to revolve. I saw that both my
companions held opened watches in their hands.
It here becomes difficult for me to be lucid about the succeeding
events of the day. I was conscious of a mounting exhilaration as my
beast swept me around the circle, and of a marked impatience with many
of the proprieties of behaviour that ordinarily with me matter
enormously.
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