"Poor Jumbo was struck by one of
those big puffing animals, of steam and steel and iron, that pull our
circus train over the shiny rails."
"You mean a choo-choo-locomotive-steam-engine," said Woo-Uff, the
lion.
"I suppose that is the name," said Umboo. "Anyhow, Jumbo was hit by an
engine, and, big as he was, it killed him. His bones, or skeleton, are
in a museum in New York now."
"Is New York a jungle?" asked Gink, who had not been with the circus
very long.
"New York a jungle? Of course not!" laughed Snarlie, the tiger. "New
York is a big city, and sometimes we circus animals are taken there to
help with the show. I've been in New York lots of times."
"Well, don't let it make you proud," said Chako, the other monkey. "I
have been there myself, and I'd much rather be in the jungle."
"Say, are we going to listen to you animals talk or hear the story
Umboo is going to tell us?" asked Humpo, the camel. "I thought he was
going to make us forget the heat."
"So I am," said Umboo, in a kind voice, "Only I wanted to speak about
old Jumbo, There used to be a song about him, many years ago.
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