phant could tell if he had the power of speech.
After breakfast, the bullock-teams were again yoked up, and Baby Elephant and his mother swung into the wagon-trail and the long day's march again began.
The roads were little more than wagon-trails, with the two tracks made by the wheels barely showing. Often the way was rough, and the going very hard.
To little Ali trudging a mile or two behind the animal cavalcade, the way seemed endless. Those in the procession joked and chatted by the way, and that helped the tedium, but Ali was all alone. Besides he had to provide for his food and look out for water while he travelled.
He subsisted largely upon fruit and berries, but occasionally he stopped at a Malay hut to beg some rice, or rice-cakes,
