“It’s vile stuff,” said Billy. “I don’t want to run, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“There you are!” said Two Tails, waving his tail to explain.

“Surely. Yes, we have been here all night,” said the bullocks.

Two Tails stamped his foot till the iron ring on it jingled. “Oh, I’m not talking to you . You can’t see inside your heads.”

“No. We see out of our four eyes,” said the bullocks. “We see straight in front of us.”

“If I could do that and nothing else you wouldn’t be needed to pull the big guns at all. If I was like my captain⁠—he can see things inside his head before the firing begins, and he shakes all over, but he knows too much to run away⁠—if I was like him I could pull the guns. But if I were as wise as all that I should never be here. I should be a king in the forest, as I used to be, sleeping half the day and bathing when I liked. I haven’t had a good bath for a month.”

“That’s all very fine,” said Billy; “but giving a thing a long name doesn’t make it any better.”

“H’sh!” said the troop-horse. “I think I understand what Two Tails means.”

“You’ll understand better in a minute,” said Two Tails angrily. “Now, just you explain to me why you don’t like this !”

He began trumpeting furiously at the top of his trumpet.

“Stop that!” said Billy and the troop-horse together, and I could hear them stamp and shiver. An elephant’s trumpeting is always nasty, especially on a dark night.