Amid perfect silence the elephant made his entrÉe under the direction of his little friend Abel, who could do anything he liked with the good-tempered monster.

He proceeded calmly to the center of the open space inclosed by the reserved seats, the planks, and the standing spectators, and then with trunk lowered and motionless, stood at attention.

"Nalla!" said Abel, "we shall now pay our respects to this distinguished gathering."

Then, taking off his toque, he made sweeping bows to right and left, which the docile elephant imitated by elevating and lowering his trunk in a dignified manner that was highly amusing.

"And now, Nalla," continued Abel, who bore himself with all the importance of a grown person, "you will be good enough to let us see how much you know and can do. For instance, can you sing like your mistress, Mademoiselle Nadine?"

"To be sure, I can," responded Nalla, in dumb show, by lifting his trunk up and down.

"Very well, then," smiled Abel. "Suppose you give us one of the songs of your own country, something sweet and tender."

Nalla threw back his enormous ears, and pointing his trunk high into the air, let forth a series of horrible sounds that fairly stunned the ears of the spectators, who nearly rolled over with laughter while they strove to shut out the dreadful noise by clapping their hands over their ears.

"That will do! that will do! Nalla!" cried Abel, giving the absurd creature a slight slap with his wand. "You sing beautifully, of course, but you have a shocking bad voice, and you haven't the least idea of tune. You shall have to take a course of lessons before you again appear in public."

"All right!" said the waving trunk, and the abominable discords ceased abruptly.

"It is evident that you have a very bad cold to-night, Nalla," said Abel, "and your voice requires attention. But if you sing so badly, perhaps you are better at dancing?"

"Certainly, I dance admirably," responded Nalla, proceeding to put himself in position to begin.

"Would you be so kind, then, as to show our kind patrons a quick-step of your own invention?" asked Abel.

"With pleasure," answered Nalla, but he did not budge nevertheless.

"Why, what's the matter? Why don't you begin?" demanded Abel, with well-simulated surprise and anger.

For reply Nalla resumed singing with his huge horrid voice.

"Ah! I understand," smiled Abel, giving himself a slap with the wand. "I was forgetting. You require some one to play for you, of course."

"Yes, yes," replied the mobile trunk, which expressed its owner's meaning quite as well as the fingers of deaf-mutes do what they want to tell.

Turning around, Abel called out:

"Mr. Musician CÆsar, will you be so good as to select from your repertoire something that will do for the elephant to dance to?"

"I shall be very pleased to do so," responded CÆsar promptly, coming forward with his mandolin.

"Ah, thank you, musician," said Nalla, looking highly pleased, and, as soon as CÆsar struck up, he began dancing, if not with grace, at least with great earnestness. Indeed the huge creature kept time with his feet, and circled about in a way that one could hardly have believed him capable of doing.

"Excellent! Excellent! Nalla!" exclaimed Abel, while the spectators showed their concurrence by a hearty round of applause. "You certainly are a famous dancer. Now that will do for the present. You can take a rest."

But, instead of obeying, Nalla continued his circling, and the waving of his trunk in a very droll fashion.

"That will do, I tell you," Abel cried. "Stop, or I'll have to make you!"

Nalla only danced the harder, and was evidently mocking Abel with that wonderful trunk which seemed equal to expressing any emotion. The spectators laughed heartily. The elephant was more than fulfilling expectations. Indeed they had never before seen so intelligent and amiable a monster.

"Oh, I know what you're driving at," said Abel, the angry frown on his face yielding to a smile of comprehension. "You want to fight a duel. All right! I'm at your service."

Nalla wagged his trunk joyfully, ceased pirouetting, and took up a position opposite Abel, who produced two foils with buttons, one of which he extended to the elephant.

Nalla eagerly seized it with his trunk, and put himself on guard.

"Ready now!" cried Abel, and at once opened the attack with great spirit.

But Nalla, dexterously wielding his foil, parried every thrust to perfection, and Abel could not get past his guard, try as hard as he might.

The soldiers were highly amused at the lack of skill shown by the eight-year-old boy, and tried to be witty at his expense, whereupon Abel stopped the bout, and, facing the spectators, said in a tone of challenge:

"Gentlemen, you are laughing at my failure and want of experience. No doubt there are among you many much more expert at fencing than I am. In that case I shall be only too glad to make way. Does any one of those present wish to take my foil, and try a turn with Nalla?"

At first there was no response, and Abel repeated his request. Then a soldier advanced slowly.

"Ah! ah! there's a champion!" was called out from the benches.

"You need not be afraid in the least," said Abel encouragingly, for the soldier moved in a hesitating way. "Fence with Nalla just as you would with a comrade. He will play you no mean trick, but I warn you that he's very good at the game."

The soldier smiled cheerfully, and, grasping the foil, put himself in position vis-À-vis to the elephant.

Nalla fixed his bright little eyes upon him, and with foil in trunk awaited the attack.

Now this soldier who had come forward was a young fellow of spirit, who was not lending himself to the little pleasantry in order to show off his skill at fencing. On the contrary, moved by the humor of the occasion, he entered the lists against Nalla quite ready to let the big brute carry off the honors, and without being troubled at all as to the figure he should cut himself.

Accordingly he went at the elephant in lively fashion, but, thrust and feint and dodge as he might, he could not get inside the clever creature's guard, or touch any part of his huge body. Nalla parried every attack with a quickness and precision that was simply astonishing, evidently enjoying the play quite as fully as his active antagonist, who threw himself into it with such vim.

For a while Nalla contented himself with maintaining his defense, but presently he changed his tactics, and assumed the offensive. Without moving from the spot upon which he stood he lunged and riposted with such swiftness and accuracy of aim that he touched the soldier's chest with the button three times in short order.

"Bravo! Bravo!" cried the spectators, delighted at the big fellow's amazing skill. "Go for him, old chap! Touch him again."

The soldier, not in the least alarmed, defended himself gallantly, but it was evident that he was completely overmatched, and a moment later, Nalla, as if taking pity on his adversary, by a clever pass, disarmed him, and then let his own foil drop.

The place rang with applause while the soldier, carrying out the play with admirable spirit, assumed an attitude of profound humiliation.

When the commotion subsided, there were cries from the soldiers for "Master Deschamps! Master Deschamps!" and Colonel Laurier turned around to survey his men with a questioning look.

Then there came forward a tall athletic man with a strong dark countenance in which eagerness and reluctance seemed to be contending. He was the fencing-master of the regiment, and had the reputation of being one of the most expert in the whole army. It was, therefore, only natural that the men should be anxious to see what he could do against so redoubtable an opponent.

He approached the Colonel, and by an inquiring look sought to know the latter's will.

Colonel Laurier glanced at Madame PradÈre, who in her turn shot a quick look at Nadine.

Nadine smiled back unconcernedly. Madame PradÈre nodded her assent to the Colonel, and he said in a low tone to Master Deschamps.

"Try a bout with the creature, but be careful not to do him any harm."

The fencing-master bowed, and taking the foil from little Abel put himself on guard.

The excitement was now intense, and the spectators were perfectly silent. The soldiers expected great things from their champion, to whom every trick and strategy of the art of fencing was known, and the Tamby family were even more confident concerning their gigantic representative.

The fencing-master went to work very warily at first. He wanted to learn the extent of his novel antagonist's skill, and he circled about in front of him, making dexterous passes and deceiving feints with such rapidity that they could scarcely be followed by the human eye.

But the little black beads that twinkled in Nalla's huge head were not to be misled. Wherever Master Deschamps' foil flashed there was the elephant's ready to meet it, and the air rang with the sound of steel striking steel while the spectators watched the strange struggle breathlessly.

At last the man grew angry. It seemed absurd to be thus bettered at his own speciality by a mere animal however big. He darted this way and that, lunging fiercely, if not recklessly. He resorted even to devices that were not considered "good form" in the fencing-hall. But they were all alike in vain. Nalla, without stirring a foot, simply by waving his trunk with the foil firmly held in the end, parried every attack and remained untouched.

Then Abel whispered to him the single word "Now," and at once he changed his tactics. Hitherto he had been on the defense. Now he took up the attack. The foil fairly whistled through the air with the rapidity of his movements. Again and yet again the button touched the tunic of the fencing-master, not roughly, but with just sufficient force that there should be no mistake.

Despite the discomfiture of their champion the soldiers broke forth into roars of applause. Nalla had won their hearts by his superb and placid dignity. He was the finest beast they had ever seen, and they did not grudge him his victory.

But Master Deschamps did not take it in equally good part. He felt bitterly humiliated. His face grew crimson with rage. His eyes glowed like burning coals, and at last forgetting himself in his fury he gave an inarticulate hoarse cry, and rushed at the elephant brandishing his foil with the evident intention of using it, not in the proper way, but as a whip wherewith to smite his successful antagonist.