so caressing, so gentle, so soothing, so full of comfort.
"Oh, Joie, old pal, you are all right, Joie. Joie is a good boy. Nothing can get Joie. This is Ali, your friend, Joie. You know Ali, he will help you.
"Don't you remember Ali, Joie? He is your friend. Listen, Joie. The winds are sighing in the bamboo thicket, in the Malay land. Don't you remember, Joie? This is Ali, Joie, Ali, your friend."
For at least an hour Ali kept up this musical monotone. With his words and with soft phrases he sought to play upon the fevered imagination of the poor elephant, and finally it had its result. For the next time that Joie advanced to the end of his rope, instead of striking Ali, he put out his trunk inquisitively.
"Look out, Ali," cried the Sahib. "He
