The elephants, with lowered heads, were charging straight ahead.
Now Phil saw that which seemed to send his heart right up into
his throat.
Little Dimples had been riding in a gayly bedecked two-wheeled
cart, drawn by a prancing white horse. Dressed in white from
head to foot, she looked the dainty creature that she was.
Dimples, seeing what had happened, had wheeled her horse
quickly out of line, intending to turn about and drive back along
the line. It would be a race between the white horse and the
elephants, but she felt sure she would be able to make it and
turn down a side street before the stampeding herd reached her.
She might have done so, had it not been for one unforeseen
incident.
As she dashed along a rider, losing his presence of mind, if
indeed,
he had had any to lose, drove his horse directly in front of her.
The result was a quick collision, two struggling horses lying
kicking in the dust of the street, and a white-robed figure lying
stretched out perilously near the flying hoofs.
The force of the collision had thrown Little Dimples headlong
from her seat in the two wheeled cart, and there she lay,
half-dazed with the herd of elephants thundering down upon her.
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