“I don’t know,” Chris answered.

“Remember, if you can,” urged Whiteface.  “It will help me to prove to every one that Gary is our boy.”

“I guess it was because he knew something about el’funts,” Danny ventured.  “He knew that el’funts’ tails are small and round like a rope, but he didn’t know how he knew.”

“I see,” said the clown.  “That is an important fact.  I’m glad you told me.”

“An’ he said ‘O Queen’ when he saw the picture of the el’funt jumping the fence!” cried Danny excitedly.  “Just the same as he did at the circus when the band stopped playin’ an’ before the el’funt picked him up.”

“He didn’t know he said it,” Chris added, “an’ he couldn’t tell Danny what he meant by it, could he, Danny?”

“No,” Danny replied.

“That clinches it!” exclaimed Whiteface, and took Jerry from his mother’s arms.  “Don’t you cry any more, Gary-boy.  Nobody shall hurt you again.  O’Queen was what you used to call Sultana, the elephant—­’Sult Anna O’Queen,’ as though that were her name.  It was the way you said a part of one line in my elephant song:  ’Great Sultana, Oh, Queen of the jungle!”

“Carryin’ water for the ellifants,” said Jerry, through his tears.

“Do you remember any of the chorus?”

Jerry thought hard, but finally shook his head.  Whiteface then started to repeat the chorus: 

    “’Ho, ye drowsy drones!  The Queen is a-thirst;
      A penny for him who brings a pail first. 
      Hurry and scurry—­’”

Jerry suddenly found that he did remember what came next and interrupted his father: 

    “‘—­an’ go at a prance!’”

“That’s it!” cried Mrs. Bowe.

“‘Run to the spring,’” quoted Mr. Bowe and Jerry finished: 

    “‘—­an’ back at a dance. 
      Bringing water for the ellifants!’”

Jerry felt so proud of himself for having remembered so much that he forgot all about the man with the red scar and being afraid of him.

“I ’membered it, didn’t I, Whiteface?”

“Yes,” answered the clown, “you did, and it proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that you are my lost little son and you’ve got the right to call me father.”

“Father,” said Jerry experimentally, trying to see how it sounded.  And then “Father!” he cried exultantly.

“And not mother, too?” asked the elephant-lady in a reproachful tone.

“And Mother!” cried Jerry, sliding out of his father’s arms and running to her.  He climbed upon her lap and buried his face on her shoulder and gave her neck a very hard hug, just to show how much he was going to love her.

“Oh, you are my own darling, loving Gary!” she cried in a voice that was tearful, but very joyful through the tearfulness, while she almost squeezed the breath out of Jerry again.  “And now we must go at once and thank kind, good Mrs. Mullarkey for caring for our boy.”