They were for leaving it to die, but that did not suit Firdoos Gita Makani, who was kind to all God's creatures.

So, having read of the like somewhere, he set us to make a sort of platform with our lances and blankets underneath the poor brute, and so we dragged him over the snow, until we reached a place where there was water and grass." "We have no lances," said Foster-father, "and there is no wood." He looked around helplessly.
"My lord has a sword," put in Roy eagerly, "and so has Faithful.

If he were to tie them crossways to the scabbards--" He had already thrown off his skin coat and was unwinding his long muslin waistband to tear it into strips to use as a cord.
"It is worth the trying, friend Foster-father," said Old Faithful, unbuckling his sword.
"Aye!" continued Roy, elated with the idea, "and Tumbu can drag it.

He makes no mark on the snow, so it will be smooth and slippy--and the curved scabbards will be like runners." His dexterous fingers were hard at work binding the long sword blades to place.

Then a strip of woollen shawl was fastened to them as a seat, Meroo's turban served as harness, and in less time than could have been imagined the quaint sledge was ready for trial.
Mirak sat on it first.