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Knowing nothing of having lost the fine new Elephant out of his auto, Mr. Dunn went along by an easier road, where there were not so many drifts. He was driving past a garage when a man outside called:

“Hey, mister! Your car door is open!”

“I guess you mean the window is broken, don’t you?” asked Archie’s father. “I know about that, thank you. I ran into a drift.”

“No, your door is wide open, and is swinging to and fro,” the garage man went on. “It may bang against something and break off. Wait a minute and I’ll close it for you.”

Mr. Dunn had slowed his car as the man called to him, and now he brought it to a stop.

“So the door is open, is it?” Mr. Dunn asked. “Well, that’s too bad. I didn’t know about that. It must have come open after the glass was broken. And if the door is open some of the things may have fallen out. I’d better get down and take a look.”

And no sooner had Mr. Dunn looked within the car than he cried:

“The Elephant is gone!”

“Elephant!” exclaimed the garage man. “Elephant?”

“Surely! An Elephant I was taking home to my boy Archie,” went on Mr. Dunn. “I had the Elephant in the car and—-“

“Oh, my!” cried the garage man, backing away, and nearly falling into a snowdrift himself. “Do you mean to tell me you had an elephant in that machine?”

“Oh, I see what you’re thinking of! You mean a real elephant, and I’m speaking of the Stuffed Elephant that I bought in the toy store. It’s a toy Elephant that is lost,” Mr. Dunn explained.

“Oh, that’s different!” laughed the man. “I was wondering how a real elephant could get inside your car–unless he was a baby one.”

“No, this was a toy one,” said Mr. Dunn. “And I think I know where he must have slipped out–back at the big drift where I broke the glass of the door, trying to smash my way through. I’ll go back there and see if I can find Archie’s Christmas present.”

Back through the storm drove Mr. Dunn. The snow was coming down thicker and faster, and the wind was piling it into more drifts. It was dark, too, but the headlights on the car made the road bright enough, especially on account of the white snow, for Mr. Dunn to see his way.

Soon he was back again at the same drift which had made him turn about and take another road.

“Now to find that Elephant,” said Mr. Dunn.

All this while the Stuffed Elephant had been trying to wiggle out of the snowdrift. But, not being used to such work, he was not having very good luck. The snow was soft, and the more he wiggled the deeper in he sank.

“Oh, dear!” sighed the poor Elephant. “What am I going to do? The snowflakes are getting in my trunk! And they tickle me and make me want to sneeze. It’s no fun to be in a snowdrift. I used to like to look at them through the window in the shop of Santa Claus, but they’re prettier to look at than to be in.

“If only a lot of the Nodding Donkeys and four or five of the White Rocking Horses were here now, they could pull me out of this drift,” went on the Elephant. “But they aren’t, and I’ll have to help myself. I wonder if I gave a trumpet or two through my trunk whether that would do any good?”

He was just about to try it when, all at once, he heard a noise.

“That sounds like an automobile,” thought the Elephant. “I daren’t move or trumpet if any real folks are around. I’ll have to stay quiet and then–oh, then I’ll sink deeper into the snow!”

Just then a man’s voice said:

“It was right here I ran into the drift. The Elephant must be somewhere about here.”