The Elephant Plays Ping-Pong.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXII, Issue V, 30 January 1904, Page 60

The Elephant Plays Ping-Pong.

Wind’s th? name of that game they talk so much about?” said the Elephant to the Ostrich. “Tlure are all sorts of games,” answered the Ostrich. “For instance, there’s football, where you have to kick a ball aliout. 1 van kick, you know. You ought Io svp me dance the Barn Dance with the Ka ngar oo.” “No, it isn’t that,” said the Elephant, “though I believe it is played with a ball. I fancy they call it ‘Sing-Song’ or ‘Ding Dong.’ or something like that.” “Ping Pong. I suppose you mean,” replied the Ostrich, putting her hat straight -she wore a picture hat with feathers growing all over it, and was, allogetlmr, rather a dressy person. “Let's have a game,” said the Ele-

pliant, briskly. ‘‘Ttieru’s no performance this afternoon, amj it’ll help to pass ths time.” “Yon,’’ exclaimed the Qstrieli, “you play ping-pong!" ‘•Why not?” replied ihe Elephant, sharply. ‘lf I can stand on my head and play tile tambouriae surely 1 e.m play a stupid game?” ‘•Oh. very answered the Ostrich, tossing her head. Only, you’re hardly vli.at J should call the figure fur pitigpmif,-. Now, if it had been the Kangaroo ” “Bother the Kangaroo!" exclaimed the Elephant. “Are you going Io play or aren't you?" “Well, we shall want a table, to begin with," replied the Ostrich. “Why a table?" demanded tht> Elephant. The Ostrich looked disgusted. “It’s called ‘ping-pong’ or ‘table-ten-nis,’” she explained. ‘‘And how can you expect to play without a table?” “To be sure." said the Elephant, hurriedly- ‘‘l’erliaus I can borrow the kitchen table, if the cook isn’t using ji.” He disappeared through a gap in the canvas enclosure in which the performance took place- and presently came back dragging a large deal table behind him. “Now we shan’t be long.” he remarked cheerfully. ‘■Here’s the table. AA hat next?” “We shall want a net,” said the Ostrich. “That’s a tiring with holes in it. isn’t it?” said the Elephant. “I’ll go and rummage round and see what I can find. How would this do?” he enquired, as he returned with a piece of cocoanut matting very much the worse for wear. ‘ There are plenty of holes here. Good big ones too.” “How are you going to fix it up?” enquired the Ostrich. “It won’t stand up of itself, just to oblige you. When 1 played with my cousin, Cassowary ” “I don’t know anything about your cousin. Cassowary,” interrupted the Elephant, rudely, “and I don’t want to. The question is, how are we going to fix the thing?” “I was going to say.” observed the Ostrich, haughtily, “that when I played tennis with my cousin. Cassowary, we used to hitch the net up to a couple of palm trees. But there’s nothing of that sort here.”

‘‘How would clothes props do?" suggested the Elephant. The Ostrich shruggsd her shoulders as though to imply th®t clothes props were a very inferior substitute. ‘ I’ll go and see if 1 can t borrow a pair somewhere in the town. 1 can smell soap-suds, so it must be somebody's washing day.” He was gone some time, and the Ostrich was just thinking about putting her front feathers in curlers ready for the evening (she liked people to think they curled naturally, but they didn’t, all the same) when he returned, looking a little flurried, with a couple of clothesprops rather awkwardly balanced in his trunk. “I’m half afraid there may be a little unpleasantness,” he said, as he laid lliem down. ‘ ‘The clothes-line certainly looks lather slack without them. You see, they’re awkward things to handle. I had to knock down a feijce before 1 could get at them, and I may have broken a window or two. However, 1 daresay it’ll blow over —particularly as the wind is in the south-west. Is there anything more wanted?” “Bats,” said the Ostrich, “and balls.” The Elephant wrinkled his trunk in perplexity. “Bats,” he repeated, “what sort of bats —brick bats, cricket bats, or the ones that fly about?’ The Ostrich explained and his faco brightened. f “I saw a couple of frying-pans hanging up in the kitchen when I went for the table just now,” he said. “I should say they’d be the very thing. I can put my trunk in through the window and reach them as easy as easy.” “If you did happen to see such a thing as a flat iron or a saucepan lid lying about,” remarked the Ostrich, “you might bring it with you at the same time. I had a very light lunch —only a plate of Portland cement and a Bath brick bun—and I feel a little peckish.” “Oh, certainly,’’ said the Elephant, retreating hastily; for when an Ostrich owns to feeling peckish you’ve got to look out. He was back again in next to no -lima with the frying pans and a bundle of iron skewers, which he handed to the Ostrich. “It’s the best I could do," he said. “There was really nothing else but a, toasting fork, and I thought ”

“I’d rather you’d brought the toasting fork,’’ said the Ostrich. “However, here goes,’’ and she swallowed the skewers whole. Then she and the Elephant managed to hitch the cocoanut matting on to tlie clothes-props (after they had first broken them to the proper length) and jam the kitchen table between them, and, if it didn’t look quite the correct thing, it was better than nothing. “I don’t know what’s to be done about balls,” said the Ostrich, despondently. “My cousin Cassowary and 1 have played with hard-boiled eggs. But, then, Ostrich eggs are cheap in Timbuctoo. You can get them fourteen a shilling, new laid, any day in the week. Of course, it isn’t to be thought of here.” Thei Elephant appeared temporarily crushed. Then a brilliant idea struck him. “Turnips!” he exclaimed. “I’ve got half a hundredweight or so hidden under my bed, in ease I get hungry in the night.” He shuffled away and returned with about thirty pounds tied up in a patchwork quilt. “Now I do hope we’ve got everything,” he said. “What do we do next?” The Ostrich explained, rather patronisingly, that he was to hit a ball (that is a turnip) over the net (that is the coeoanut matting) with the bat (that is the frying pan) and she would hit it back, and so on. “Not much in that,” said tae Elephant, curling his trunk. The Ostrich merely smiled sarcastically. There was a little squabble over the frying pans, to begin with. The Elephant said he weighed at least six times more than the Ostrich, and it stood to reason that he ought to have the largest. The Ostrich said that, as a lady, she should, of course, have the preference. She added that her cousin Cassowary always expected to be helped first, never mind who else was present. The Elephant said “Urrmph”—a favourite expression of his when put out. Then, finding that the handle of the largest frying pan was loose, he gracefully gave way. In return for this the Ostrich allowed him the first serve. He hit the first turnip so hard that it went all to smash. The next he triec sailed right out through a hole in the canvas roof of the monster marquee, as they were fond of describing it on the posters. The third went through the bars of the Grizzly Bear’s cage and caught him on the nose, just as he was beginning to think of waking up, by degrees. If it had been the Brown Bear it wouldn’t have mattered half so mueh. But Grizzly Bear’s tempers, as a rule, are rather short; and this Grizzly Bear’s temper was shorter than most Grizzly Bears’, and waking him with a start made it shorter still. The remarks he made on the subject woke up all the other animals (who had, most of them, been indulging in forty winks), and they all sat up and looked out of their cages or caravans to see what it was all about. For it was a travelling circus, you understand, and, though the Elephant was allowed a good

deal of liberty, most of the others were kept shut up between the performances. The Elephant declared that this didn’t count, as he was only just practising to get his hand in, and he would begin again. At last he did succeed in sending a turnip over the net, which the Ostrich caught very gracefully on her beak and swallowed. It really wasn’t worth returning, she explained. Then the net fell down and took a good deal of re-fixing, and when the Ostrich started to serve the handle came

off her frying pan, and the other part flew over the net and hit the Elephant and made his trunk bleed. This would have been bad enough without the comments of the Grizzly Bear, who enquired if that was part of the game, at which the Hyaena, who seemed to think it was an excellent joke, laughed quite insultingly. This made the Elepnant so mad that he began pelting them with the turnips, and there is no knowing what might not have happened, only just at this moment there was a commotion outside,

and the word “clothes-props” was distinctly heard. The Ostrich, with great presence of mind, immediately swallowed the handle of her frying pan. The Elephant made an attempt to get under the table, which collapsed entirely — one clothesprop poking him in the eye, while the other hit him on the head. “Well.” he said, as he picked himself up. “it may be a very good game, but, for my part. 1 consider it a waste of time and turnips.”

A. L. HARRIS.