“I don’t either! I don’t either!” came from all sides. Then Lona, queen and mother and sister of them all, spoke from her big horse by my side: “I would give my life,” she said, “to have my mother! She might kill me if she liked! I should just kiss her and die!” “Come along, boys!” cried a girl. “We’re going to our mothers!” A pang went through my heart.--But I could not draw back; it would be moral ruin to the Little Ones! Chapter XXXV. THE LITTLE ONES IN BULIKA It was early in the morning when we set out, making, between the blue sky and the green grass, a gallant show on the wide plain. We would travel all the morning, and rest the afternoon; then go on at night, rest the next day, and start again in the short twilight. The latter part of our journey we would endeavour so to divide as to arrive at the city with the first of the morning, and be already inside the gates when discovered. It seemed as if all the inhabitants of the forest would migrate with us. A multitude of birds flew in front, imagining themselves, no doubt, the leading division; great companies of butterflies and other insects played about our heads; and a crowd of four-footed creatures followed us. These last, when night came, left us almost all; but the birds and the butterflies, the wasps and the dragon-flies, went with us to the very gates of the city. We halted and slept soundly through the afternoon: it was our first real march, but none were tired. In the night we went faster, because it was cold. Many fell asleep on the backs of their beasts, and woke in the morning quite fresh. None tumbled off. Some rode shaggy, shambling bears, which yet made speed enough, going as fast as the elephants. Others were mounted on different kinds of deer, and would have been racing all the way had I not prevented it. Those atop of the hay on the elephants, unable to see the animals below them, would keep talking to them as long as they were awake. Once, when we had halted to feed, I heard a little fellow, as he drew out the hay to give him, commune thus with his “darling beast”: “Nosy dear, I am digging you out of the mountain, and shall soon get down to you: be patient; I’m a coming! Very soon now you’ll send up your nose to look for me, and then we’ll kiss like good elephants, we will!” The same night there burst out such a tumult of elephant-trumpeting, horse-neighing, and child-imitation, ringing far over the silent levels, that, uncertain how near the city might not be, I quickly stilled the uproar lest it should give warning of our approach.