“And yet,” said Billy, “you dream bad dreams and upset the camp at night. Well! well! Before I’d lie down, not to speak of sitting down, and let a man fire across me, my heels and his head would have something to say to each other. Did you ever hear anything so awful as that?”
There was a long silence, and then one of the gun-bullocks lifted up his big head and said, “This is very foolish indeed. There is only one way of fighting.”
“Oh, go on,” said Billy. “ Please don’t mind me. I suppose you fellows fight standing on your tails?”
“Only one way,” said the two together. (They must have been twins.) “This is that way. To put all twenty yoke of us to the big gun as soon as Two Tails trumpets.” (“Two Tails” is camp slang for the elephant.)
“What does Two Tails trumpet for?” said the young mule.
“To show that he is not going any nearer to the smoke on the other side. Two Tails is a great coward. Then we tug the