"August," said Mr. Damon.
"Then August is his name!" exclaimed Tom. "Koku sounds too much like a cocoanut cake. Here, August, shift that package on the white mule," he called, "it's cutting her back," and the giant with a pleased grin, did as he was bid. And August he was called from then on.
But my story is getting too long, so I must bring it to a close. And really there is not much to tell. The march back to the coast was full of hardships, danger and difficulties, but they accomplished it. The two giants seemed glad that they had left their own country behind and they were simple and affectionate beings. Tom made up his mind he would let the circus man have one and keep the other for his personal attendant.
They traveled by day, and slept at night, shooting game as they needed it. Several times they narrowly escaped getting mixed up in the native conflicts. Tom had one striking evidence of his giant servant's usefulness. One day he was stalking a small beast, like a deer, when, from a tree overhead, a jaguar sprang down at him. But Koku—I beg his pardon—August was at hand, and, like Sampson of old, the giant slew the beast bare-handed, choking it to death.
In due time our friends reached a native town and the wonder caused by the giants was no less
