PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI Volume 108. MARCH 2nd, 1895. _edited by Sir Francis Burnand_ [Illustration: "ANIMAL SPIRITS." No. V.--GOLF. "THE OLD SCOTCH TERRIORS."] * * * * * TALL TALES OF SPORT AND ADVENTURE. (_By Mr. Punch's own Short Story-teller._) I.--THE PINK HIPPOPOTAMUS. (CONTINUED FROM PAGE 81.) In these awful circumstances, with the night air whistling past me, and with my beloved CHUDDAH and her nurse hurtling upwards beside me, it is scarcely necessary for me to say that I never for an instant lost my coolness and my perfect self-possession. That the situation was dangerous, nay, almost desperate, I fully realised, but it is in these very situations that true courage and resourcefulness are always of the highest value. Again and again in the course of my long life have I plucked safety, aye, and that which is higher and better than all safety, namely, reputation, from the nettle danger. Let fools prate as they will; the brave man must always rise triumphant above the stormy waves of envy and detraction. These thoughts, I admit, did not occur to me at the moment. Our flight was too perilous and too swift to allow me to think of aught save what concerned the immediate necessities of this truly fearful crisis. Poor little CHUDDAH, I observed, being made of lighter material, was gradually outstripping me in this dreadful and involuntary race. First her head topped me; then her shoulders soared beyond me; at last her feet were on a level with my face. As one of them (I forget which) passed upwards, I was just able by leaning slightly forward, to imprint a kiss upon it. "Farewell, CHUDDAH," I sighed, as the lovely foot left my lips. "Farewell, ORLANDO," she murmured all but inaudibly, and fled up, up, up into the dismal night. I never saw her again.