far in advance , moti continued his wild career . presently in his course he came to a great field of castor - oil plants , ten or twelve feet high , big and bushy , but quite green and soft . hoping to escape from the back of his fiery steed moti grasped one in passing , but its roots gave way , and he dashed on , with the whole plant looking like a young tree flourishing in his grip . the enemy were in battle array , advancing over the plain , their king with them confident and cheerful , when suddenly from the front came a desperate rider at a furious gallop . ' sire ! ' he cried , ' save yourself ! the enemy are coming ! ' ' what do you mean ? ' said the king . ' oh , sire ! ' panted the messenger , ' fly at once , there is no time to lose . foremost of the enemy rides a mad giant at a furious gallop . he flourishes a tree for a club and is wild with anger , for as he goes he cries , " you wait till i get hold of you ! i 'll skin you alive ! i 'll wring your neck ! i 'll break every bone in your body ! " others ride behind , and you will do well to retire before this whirlwind of destruction comes upon you . '
a great field of castor - oil plants .
where did moti go to while he lost control of his pony ?
where did moti go to while he lost control of his pony ?