+ He stopped to pull up the thatch from the roof of a small house by the road, but when the Anks biker had a headache, he could not stay long enough to complete the work, but was doing his best While pursuing a Ford car, I set foot on the road again. An angry man pushed his head away from the hole in the roof of the house and cursed all the gangs of all the elephants, as well as the predecessors and descendants of their owners and wives.

It seems Akbar is well known there. The people on the Ford yelled the news before he came, and the road into the city began to look like traces of a crushed army. Everyone and animals stood up, Akbar tried his best to chase after all the tendons, bragging. He didn't need the second wind, because he never lost the first wind, but he walked the whole route at a speed that satisfied Yehu, the son of Nimsi, to the gate of the city, which the Bible says was a crime for Israel.

That particular city gate is made up of arches covered with seemingly heinous gods. As a picture display, it is perfect, but as an entrance into a crowded city, it has no virtue. It's too narrow, only one car can pass at a time, and the entire convoy is stuck between Li Bad and Li Bad like a wooden stick in front of the drain pipe.

Even Akbar's strength is not strong enough to push them away, so an old problem is raised, that is, force majeure comes into contact with immovable objects, and Akbar solves it in his own way.

He chose the softest place, a bale of cotton, overturned it, and quickly fired the mat, so that his four passengers were scattered throughout the landscape. He recognized the bravest cavalry general with a keen strategic vision, thinking that the rout was complete, adding everything, he found nothing, he went to the river and the women's bathing ground, walked the wide stone steps and found nothing, and went straight into it.

No ship can sink into the water more perfectly than Akbar on a women's shower cap, nor can it float on a uniform keel better than Akbar. For a while I thought he proposed to lie there and wash the intermittent toilet, but he was content to spray water on the sore area caused by the driver's heavy blow and start swimming upstream.

Akbar did not enter Napoleon's classroom until he reached the second Western Ghats and climbed the steps. When he reached the end of the steps, the right blow did not make him turn right and follow the city streets. He turned to the left, blew a few wild hulas amidst his newly wet whistle, and struggling to catch up with the traffic on the one-way road!

The ruins there are ripe for harvest, and it looks like the right time to jump. But suddenly-with pity on him with a pleasant round panic, the big beast stopped, stood still, looked at them, muttered to himself, muttered to himself. The macho immediately began to pet him, calling him a cute name and praising his wisdom and judgment. I can't swear that the beast understands his words, but he behaves just like him. He used a tree trunk to pick up dust from the street, blew some dust in the general direction of the defeated enemy, blew some dust at himself, and then turned his hips to the gate, as if to indicate that the hostilities were over!

When he did this, a man like an athlete jumped up on the offside pedal, and a second later, the proud expression of the gray Mahatma made me face the saddle pad next to the king!

He said: "You are heavy enough to balance the two of Li and Bad." As if no other comment is necessary. "Why did you escape from me? You can never escape!"

Well, of course, anyone can say that after he finds Li Huai again.

"Did you inspect this elephant?" I asked him, remembering what he did to the panther and the snake, but he did not answer.

"Where do you think you are going?" I asked.

He replied: "This is what dry leaves require of the wind." "It is better to observe the eyes than to long for the ears. Patience is better than curiosity!"

Suddenly, I remembered a sentence made by Kim on the beach. What surprised me was that Mahatma's use of terrorizing the tycoon to keep silent might offset the gains of Li Huai's plunge and swimming. As long as the prince who owns the elephant hears of Li Huai's adventures, everything will be fine. The bad news about Li will reach the government. Most monarchs are pro-British, because their existence as a ruling prince depends on this attitude, and they can rely on them to report any improper behavior to the British authorities, no matter what they notice, and they will not deceive themselves. .

The king may have the same idea, but he only recovered from drowning not long ago and was fine soon. Besides, Mahatma is between him and Da Haute, and I have a free land. Therefore, I tightened the arm of the second macho, and the macho was sitting behind his leader, and he crawled beside me.

Mahatma tried to take advantage of this immediately, and everything he did made it easier for me to deal with the second massacre. The second massacre went with Li Badi and stared at me with a confused distrust. The Mahatma was active like a cat, crawling behind the chief male rat, crossing the elephant's neck where the second male rat had sat, and began to whisper.

"What's your prince's name?" I asked my neighbor on the board.

He replied: "Cihan Bihar" and also gave a series of headlines that had nothing to do with the situation. They sound like a page of the Old Testament.

"You discover that his favorite elephant will be stolen with the help of the Gray Mahatma!"

The guy nodded, the expression on his face was not entirely satisfactory. He may have been one of the people cursed by Mahatma the Great for asking too many irrelevant questions.

"He is very famous, Mahatma, isn't he?" I suggested. "Have you heard of his miracle?"

He nodded again.

"Did you see him talking to the chief tycoons now? According to me, he is casting spells on him! Do you want him to cast spells on you too?"

He shook his head.

"Then run quickly and tell the Grand Duke to let the Brahmin cancel the spell, and you will be rewarded. Go away."

When Mahatma turned and saw him, he fell off the plank and ran down. Mahatma kept whispering in his ear, and when his eyes met me, I smiled. For a while, he watched the man running, and then, as if to prove that he was a strange mixture of men, he laughed at me. He confessed his failure at once, and was not at all angry, but on the contrary, I undoubtedly contributed to my victory over him.

India is not a democracy. No one will worry about putting the underworld in place, so the massacre or sweeper has the ears of majesty like anyone else, if not more. Now, what kind of rooster and bull story might be told by the Holocaust to the King, and nothing has changed. No matter how wild, this would definitely include the fact that after being fished out of the Mahut river by elephant bathing robes, two white men rode to Yasmin’s palace where the archduke’s favorite elephant was in.

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