13980	----	Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 13980-h.htm or 13980-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/3/9/8/13980/13980-h/13980-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/3/9/8/13980/13980-h.zip) Kneetime Animal Stories MAPPO, THE MERRY MONKEY His Many Adventures by RICHARD BARNUM Author of _Squinty, the Comical Pig_, _Slicko the Jumping Squirrel_, _Tum Tum, the Jolly Elephant_, _Don, a Runaway Dog_, etc. Illustrated by Harriet H. Tooker 1915 [Illustration: With all his might he threw the empty cocoanut shell right at the tiger's head. (Frontispiece)] CONTENTS CHAPTER I MAPPO AND THE COCOANUT II MAPPO PLAYS A TRICK III MAPPO IN A NET IV MAPPO IN A BOX V MAPPO ON THE SHIP VI MAPPO MEETS TUM TUM VII MAPPO IN THE CIRCUS VIII MAPPO AND HIS TRICKS IX MAPPO RUNS AWAY X MAPPO AND SQUINTY XI MAPPO AND THE ORGAN-MAN XII MAPPO AND THE BABY KNEETIME ANIMAL STORIES Richard Barnum Illustrated. SQUINTY, THE COMICAL PIG SLICKO, THE JUMPING SQUIRREL MAPPO, THE MERRY MONKEY TUM TUM, THE JOLLY ELEPHANT DON, A RUNAWAY DOG DIDO, THE DANCING BEAR BLACKIE, A LOST CAT FLOP EAR, THE FUNNY RABBIT TINKLE, THE TRICK PONY LIGHTFOOT, THE LEAPING GOAT (Other volumes in preparation) ILLUSTRATIONS With all his might he threw the empty cocoanut shell right at the tiger's head (Frontispiece) Mr. Monkey, with a bunch of bananas slung over his back, came scrambling up to the tree-house So he gave a jump out of the net, but, in a second found himself inside the wooden crate or box Away up to the top he went, and, curling his tail around a rope, there he sat Around and around in a ring went Prince carrying Mappo He rode around a little wooden platform on the bicycle, holding a flag over his shoulder Mappo sat up at the table and eat his dinner with knife, fork and spoon CHAPTER I MAPPO AND THE COCOANUT Once upon a time, not so very many years ago, there lived in a tree, in a big woods, a little monkey boy. It was in a far-off country, where this little monkey lived, so far that you would have to travel many days in the steam cars, and in a steamship, to get there. The name of the little monkey boy was Mappo, and he had two brothers and two sisters, and also a papa and a mamma. One sister was named Choo, and the other Chaa, and one brother was called Jacko, and the other Bumpo. They were funny names, but then, you see, monkeys are funny little creatures, anyhow, and have to be called by funny names, or things would not come out right. Mappo was the oldest of the monkey children, and he was the smartest. Perhaps that was why he had so many adventures. And I am going to tell you some of the wonderful things that happened to Mappo, while he lived in the big woods, and afterwards, when he was caught by a hunter, and sent off to live in a circus. But we will begin at the beginning, if you please. Mappo, as I have said, lived in a tree in the woods. Now it might seem funny for you to live in a tree, but it came very natural to Mappo. Lots of creatures live in trees. There are birds, and squirrels, and katydids. Of course they do not stay in the trees all the time, any more than you boys and girls stay in your houses all the while. They go down on the ground to play, occasionally. "But you will find the safest place for you is the tree," said Mappo's mother to him one day, when he had been playing down on the ground with his brothers and sisters. And, while they were down playing a game, something like your game of tag, all of a sudden along came a big striped tiger, with long teeth. "Run! Run fast! Everybody run!" yelled Mappo, in the queer, chattering language monkeys use. His brothers and sisters scrambled up into the tree where their house was, and Mappo scrambled up after them. He was almost too late, for the tiger nearly caught Mappo by the tail. But the little monkey boy managed to get out of the way, and then he sat down on a branch in front of the tree house where he lived. "That wasn't very nice of that tiger to chase us!" said Mappo, when he could get his breath. "No, indeed," said Mrs. Monkey. "Tigers are not often nice. After this you children had better stay in the tree--until you are a little larger, at least." "But it's more fun on the ground," said Mappo. "That may be," said Mrs. Monkey, as she looked down through the branches to see if the tiger were still waiting to catch one of her little ones. "But, Mappo, you and your brothers and sisters can run much better and faster in a tree than on the ground," said Mrs. Monkey. And this is so. A monkey can get over the ground pretty fast on his four legs, as you can easily tell if you have ever watched a hand-organ monkey. But they can travel much faster up in the trees. For there is a hand on the end of each monkey's four limbs, and his curly tail is as good as another hand for grasping branches. So you see a monkey really has five hands with which to help himself along in the trees, and that is why he can swing himself along so swiftly, from one branch to another. That is why it is safer for monkeys to be up in a tree than on the ground. There are very few other animals that can catch monkeys, once the five-handed creatures are up among the leaves. And monkeys can travel a long way through the forest without ever coming down to the ground. They swing themselves along from one tree to another, for miles and miles through the forest. "Is it safe to go down now, Mamma?" asked Mappo of his mother, in monkey talk. This was a little while after the scare. "No, not yet," she said. "That tiger may still be down there, waiting and hiding. You and Jacko and Bumpo, and Choo and Chaa stay up here, and pretty soon I will give you a new lesson." "Oh, a new lesson!" exclaimed Jacko. "I wonder what kind it will be. We have learned to swing by our tails, and to hang by one paw. Is there anything else we can learn?" "Many things," said the mamma monkey, for she and her husband had been teaching the children the different things monkeys must know to get along in the woods. So the four little monkeys sat in the tree in front of their home, and waited for their mother to teach them a new lesson. If you had seen Mappo's house, you would not have thought it a very nice one. It was just some branches of a tree, twined together, over a sort of platform, or floor, of dried branches. About all the house was used for was to keep off some of the rain that fell very heavily in the country where Mappo lived. But this house suited the monkeys very well. They did not need to have a warm one, for it was never winter in the land where they lived. It was always hot and warm--sometimes too warm. There was never any snow or ice, but, instead, just rain. It rained half the year, and the other half it was dry. So, you see, Mappo's house was only needed to keep off the rain. Mappo and the other monkeys did not stay in their houses very much. They went in them to sleep, but that was about all. The rest of the time they jumped about in the trees, looking for things to eat, and, once in a while, when there was no danger, they went down on the ground to play. "I guess that tiger is gone now," said Jacko to Mappo. "Let's go down on the ground again, and get some of those green things that are good to eat." The little monkeys had been eating some fruit, like green pears, which they liked very much, when the tiger came along and frightened them. Tigers would rather eat monkeys than green pears, I guess. "Yes, I think we can go down now," said Mappo, looking through the leaves, and seeing nothing of the savage, striped tiger. "You'd better ask mamma," said Choo, one of the little girl monkeys. "Indeed I will not! I can see as good as she can that the tiger isn't there!" exclaimed Mappo. You see monkey children don't want to mind, and be careful, any more than some human children do. Mappo started to climb down the tree, holding on to the branches by his four paws and by his tail. He was almost to the ground, and Jacko and Bumpo were following him, when, all at once, there was a dreadful roar, and out sprang the tiger again. "Oh, run! Run quick! Jump back!" screamed Mappo, and he and his brothers got back to their tree-house not a second too soon. The tiger snapped his teeth, and growled, he was so mad at being fooled the second time. "Here! What did I tell you monkeys? You must stay up in the tree!" chattered Mrs. Monkey, as she jumped out of the house. She had been inside shaking up the piles of leaves that were the beds for her family. "We--we thought the tiger was gone," said Mappo, who was trembling because he was so frightened. "But he wasn't," said Bumpo, shivering. "No, he was right there," added Jacko, looking around. "Yes, and he'll be there for some time," said Mrs. Monkey. "I told you to be careful. Now you just sit down, all of you, and don't you dare stir out of this tree until I tell you to. I'll let you know when the tiger is gone," and she looked down through the leaves toward the ground. "He is still there," said Mrs. Monkey, for she caught sight of the stripes of the tiger's skin. She had very sharp eyes, and though the patches of sunlight through the jungle leaves hid the bad creature somewhat, Mrs. Monkey could tell he was there, waiting to catch one of her little children. "Your father will be coming along, soon," said Mrs. Monkey, to her children. "The tiger may lay in wait for him. I'd better let him know he must be careful as he comes along through the woods." So Mrs. Monkey raised up her head, and called as loudly as she could, in her chattering talk. You would not have understood what she said, even if you had heard it, though there are some men who say they can understand monkey talk. But the other monkeys in the woods heard what the mother of Mappo was saying, and they, too, began to shout, in their language: "Look out for the tiger! There is a tiger hiding down under the bushes! Look out for him!" Soon the whole jungle was filled with the sound of the chattering of the monkeys, as, one after another, they began to shout. It was a warning they shouted--a warning to Mr. Monkey to be careful when he came near his home--to be careful of the tiger lying in wait for him. My! what a noise those monkeys made, shouting and chattering in the jungle. You could hear them for a mile or more. It was their way of telephoning to Mappo's papa. Monkeys cannot really telephone, you know--that is, not the way we do--but they can shout, one after another, so as to be heard a long way off. First one would chatter something about the tiger--then another monkey, farther off, would take up the cry, and so on until Mr. Monkey heard it. So it was as good as a telephone, anyhow. As soon as Mappo's papa, who had gone a long distance from the tree-house to look for some bananas for his family--as soon as he heard the shouting about the tiger, he said to himself: "Well, I must get home as quickly as I can, to look after my family. But I'll be careful. I hope Mappo and the others will stay in the tall trees." For Mr. Monkey well knew that if his wife and little ones stayed up in the high trees the tiger could not very well get at them, though tigers can sometimes climb low trees. Meanwhile Mrs. Monkey was keeping good watch over her little ones. They had no idea, now, of going down on the ground to play--at least as long as the tiger was hiding near them in the bushes. "But I wish we had something to do," said Mappo, who was a merry little chap, always laughing, shouting, running about or playing some trick on his brothers and sisters. Just then he thought of a little trick. He went softly up behind Jacko, and tickled him on the ear with a long piece of a tree branch. Jacko thought it was a fly, and put up his paw to brush it away. Mappo pulled the tree branch away just in time, and while Jacko was peeling the skin off a bit of fruit, to eat it, Mappo again tickled his brother. "Oh that fly!" chattered Jacko. "If I get hold of him!" and again he brushed with his paw at what he thought was a fly. This made Mappo laugh. The merry little monkey laughed so hard that the next time he tried to tickle Jacko, Mappo's paw slipped, and Jacko, turning around, saw his brother. "Oh ho! So it was you, and not a fly!" cried Jacko. He dropped his fruit, and raced after his brother. Up through the tree, nearly to the top, went the two monkeys, as fast as they could. They laughed and chattered, for it was all in fun. Finally Jacko caught Mappo by the tail. "Oh, let go!" begged Mappo. "Will you stop tickling me?" asked Jacko. "I guess so--maybe!" laughed Mappo, trying to pull his tail out of his brother's paw. "No, you'll have to say for sure, before I let you go!" Jacko pulled pretty hard on Mappo's tail. "Oh! let go! Yes, I'll be good! I won't tickle you any more!" cried Mappo. Then Jacko let go, and started to climb down the tree to the little platform in front of the monkey house. But Mappo was not done with his jokes. He scrambled down faster than did Jacko, and finally, when Jacko was not looking, Mappo grasped the end of his brother's tail, and gave it a hard pinch. "Ouch! Oh dear! Mamma, the tiger's got me!" cried Jacko. "Ha! Ha! That's the time I fooled you!" laughed Mappo in his chattering way. Then Jacko gave chase after Mappo again, and the two monkey boys were having lots of fun in the trees, when Mrs. Monkey called to them: "Jacko! Mappo! Come down here. It is time for your new lesson. And you, too, Choo and Chaa! You'll have time to practice a little bit before your father comes home," and she looked down to see if the tiger were there. But the bad animal had gone away. He had heard the monkeys talking about him, and sending a warning all through the jungle where they lived. A jungle, you know, is a great big woods. "What lesson is it going to be, Mamma?" asked Mappo. "You'll soon see," she said. And Mrs. Monkey went into the tree-house, came out with a brown, shaggy thing, about as big as a small football. Have you ever seen one of those? Only, of course, it was not a football. "Oh, what is it, Mamma?" asked Chaa. "I know!" exclaimed Bumpo, as he tried to climb under a branch, and bumped his head. "Ouch!" he cried. That was why he was called Bumpo--he was always bumping his head, though it did not hurt him very much, for he was covered with a heavy growth of hair. "Well, what is it, if you know?" asked Mappo, for he was looking at the big, round, brown thing, and trying to guess what it was. "It's--it's a new kind of banana," said Bumpo, for he and his brothers and sisters were very fond of the soft red and yellow fruit. "No, it isn't a banana," said Mrs. Monkey. "It's a cocoanut." "I never saw a cocoanut as big as that," spoke Mappo, for his papa had brought some smaller, round nuts to the tree-house, and had said they were cocoanuts. The little monkeys had not been allowed to eat any of the white meat inside the cocoanut though, for they were too small for it then. "Yes, this is a cocoanut," went on Mrs. Monkey. "You are now getting large enough to have some for your meals, and so I am going to give you a lesson in how to open a cocoanut." "I thought cocoanut was white," said Choo. "It is, inside," said Mrs. Monkey. "This cocoanut I now have has the outer shell still on it. That is why it is not round, like some you may have seen. Inside this soft covering is the round nut, and inside that round nut is the white meat. Now, Mappo, you are a smart little monkey, let me see if you will know how to open the cocoanut. And, when you do, you may all have some to eat." Mappo took the cocoanut and looked at it. He turned it over and over in his paws. Then, with his fingers, he tried to pull it apart. But he could not do it. The nut was too hard for him. Next he tried to bite it open, but he could not. "Let me try. I can open it!" exclaimed Jacko. "No, I'll do it," said Mappo. "If you can't, I can," spoke Bumpo, and he gave a jump over toward Mappo, and once more he hit his head on a branch, Bumpo did. "Ouch!" he chattered, rubbing the sore place with his paw. Mappo turned the cocoanut over and over again. He was looking for some hole in it through which he could put his paw and get out the white meat. But he saw none. "Maybe I could open it," said Choo, gently. "No, we must let Mappo have a good try," said Mrs. Monkey. "Then, if he cannot do it, you may all have a turn. But it is a good lesson to know how to open a cocoanut. When you get to be big monkeys, you will have to open a great many of them." Mappo was pulling and tearing at the hard husk of the cocoanut. "If I had something sharp, I could tear it open," he said. Then he happened to look up in the tree, and he saw where a branch had been broken off, leaving a sharp point. "Ha! I have it!" he cried. He broke off the branch, and with the sharp point he soon had torn a hole in the outer husk of the cocoanut. He pulled the round nut out. "I have it!" he chattered. "Yes, but it isn't good to eat yet," said Bumpo. "How are you going to open the rest of it?" Mappo did not know. Once more he tried to bite a hole, but he could not. All of a sudden the nut slipped from his paws, and fell down toward the ground. "Oh!" cried Mappo, and he started to climb down after the nut. "My cocoanut is lost!" "Look out for the tiger!" cried Jacko. "Look out, Mappo!" CHAPTER II MAPPO PLAYS A TRICK Mappo, who had started to climb down to the ground, to get the cocoanut he had lost, stopped short when he heard his brother Jacko cry out about the tiger. "Don't be afraid," said Mrs. Monkey. "The tiger is not there now. He has gone, or else I shouldn't have let you try to open the cocoanut, Mappo. Go on and get it; don't be afraid." So Mappo went on down to the ground. And, when he reached it, he saw something that was very strange to him. "Oh, Mamma!" cried Mappo. "The cocoanut is all broken to pieces. I can pick out the white meat now. Oh, Mamma, it's all broken." "Is it?" cried Bumpo, and he hurried down so fast that he hit his nose, and sneezed. "Yes, it's all cracked open," said Mappo. "Oh, goodie!" Of course Mappo didn't just say that in so many words, but he talked, in his monkey talk, just as you children would have done, had the same thing happened to you. "Maybe the tiger broke open the cocoanut for you," said Bumpo, as he rubbed his hurt nose. "No, the tiger is not there," said Mrs. Monkey. "You may all go down and see how Mappo opened the cocoanut." Down trooped all the five little monkeys, Mappo was the first to reach his cocoanut. "Why!" he cried. "It fell on a stone, and smashed open. That's what cracked the shell, Mamma." "Yes, I thought it would," said Mrs. Monkey. "And that is the lesson you little ones are to learn. You cannot bite open a cocoanut. You must crack it on a stone. Mappo dropped his by accident, but it can also be dropped, or thrown, on purpose. So, when you get a cocoanut, the first thing to do is to get a sharp stick, and take off the outer shell. Then, go up in a tall tree, and drop the inside nut down on a stone. The fall will break it, and you can then eat the white meat." "Oh, isn't that a nice thing to know!" cried Choo. "Yes, indeed," said her sister Chaa. "I wish we had a cocoanut to break open." "Come up in the tree and I'll give you each one," said Mrs. Monkey. Up into the tree, where their house was, scrambled Mappo, and his brothers and sisters. Mappo carried in his paws the pieces of white cocoanut he had broken out of the round, brown shell. He nibbled at a piece. "Oh, doesn't that taste good!" he cried. "Please give me some," begged Chaa, holding out one little, brown paw. "No, I want it all," said Mappo. "Oh, you must not be selfish!" said Mrs. Monkey. "Give your brothers and sisters some, Mappo, and when they open their nuts, they will give you some." Mappo was sorry he had been a little selfish. He gave each of the other monkeys some cocoanut. Mrs. Monkey went into the tree-house and came out with four other cocoanuts. She gave one each to the other monkeys, and soon they had torn off the tough, outer husk, or covering, with a sharp stick, the way Mappo did. Then they threw the round brown nuts down on a flat stone under the tree, cracking the shell so they could pick out the white meat. "Oh, but this is good!" exclaimed Mappo, as he chewed some of the pieces his brothers and sisters gave him. All of a sudden, as the little monkeys were eating away, there sounded a rustling in the trees. Something was coming through the branches. "Look out!" cried Jacko. "Run!" shouted Mappo. "Don't be afraid, children, it's only your papa," said a kind, chattering voice, and Mr. Monkey, with a bunch of bananas slung over his back, came scrambling up to the tree-house. "Did you see the tiger?" asked Mrs. Monkey. "No, but I heard the other monkeys calling out about him, so I was careful," said the papa monkey. "Are you all right here?" "Oh, yes. We saw him in time," spoke Mrs. Monkey. "Oh, papa, I can open a cocoanut!" cried Mappo. "So can I!" exclaimed Bumpo. "Look!" and he was in such a hurry to show what he could do that he slipped, and bumped his head against Mappo, nearly knocking him off the branch on which the monkey boy was sitting. In fact, Mappo did fall off, but he had his tail tightly wound around the branch, so he did not fall all the way to the ground, as he might have done. "Look out! What are you doing?" cried Mappo to Bumpo, after having swung himself up on the branch again. "Oh dear! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," said Bumpo. "I just wanted to show papa how I can open a cocoanut." [Illustration: Mr. Monkey, with a bunch of bananas slung over his back, came scrambling up to the tree-house. (Page 25)] "We can all open cocoanuts! We've had our lessons," said Chaa. "Good!" cried Mr. Monkey. "To open cocoanuts is a good thing to know. And now here are some bananas I have brought you." He passed around the yellow fruit from the bunch he had brought home. Then, having eaten bananas and cocoanut, all the monkeys went to sleep. That is about all monkeys in the jungle do--eat and sleep. Of course some of the younger ones play tricks once in a while. Monkeys are very mischievous and fond of playing tricks. That is what makes them so funny in the circus, and with the hand-organ men. When the monkeys awakened, they were thirsty. Mappo was going down, right away, to the ground and get a drink at a water-pool near the family tree. "Wait!" called his father, stretching out his long, hairy arms. "I must first look to see that the tiger is not there, Mappo." But the tiger was far away, so the monkeys scrambled down and took long drinks. Then they crawled back into their tree again. For two or three days after this, Mappo, his brothers and sisters practiced their new lesson of opening cocoanuts, until they could do it as well as Mr. and Mrs. Monkey. Meanwhile they had gone off together, a little way into the woods, looking for different things to eat. Mappo used to go a little ahead of the others. "Be careful," his mother warned him. "If you get too far away from us, the tiger will catch you." Then Mappo would come back. One day, after the monkeys had opened some cocoanuts and eaten out the white meat, Mappo thought of a good trick to play on Bumpo or Jacko. Down on the ground, under the family tree, were some empty cocoanut shells. One was almost whole, with only a small piece broken out. "I'll put that piece of shell back in the hole," said Mappo, "and it will look as though it had not been opened. Then I'll give it to Jacko or Bumpo. They'll think it's a good cocoanut, and try to break it open. Then won't they feel funny when they see it's empty!" Mappo was thinking so much about the trick he was going to play, that he did not look about, as he ought to have done, for any signs of danger. He was down on the ground, putting the piece of shell back in the hole in the empty cocoanut, to play a trick on one of his brothers, when, all of a sudden, there was a crashing in the bushes, right in front of Mappo, and out jumped the big, yellow and black striped tiger. "Oh my!" exclaimed Mappo, and he was so frightened that he could not move. CHAPTER III MAPPO IN A NET Mappo crouched down on the ground, trying to hide under a green bush of the jungle. In his paw he held the empty cocoanut shell with which he was going to play a trick on Bumpo or Jacko. The tiger was creeping, slowly, slowly along, on his soft, padded feet, just as your cat creeps after a bird. Mappo was too frightened to move. "Ah ha!" growled the tiger, away down deep in his throat. "At last I have caught a monkey!" Of course he had not yet really caught Mappo, but he soon would; there was very little doubt of that. Mappo shivered. He wished he had not tried to play the trick. If he had stayed safe up in the tree, the tiger could not have gotten at him. Mappo, with his queer little eyes, almost like yours, looked up toward where he knew his tree-house was. He was looking to see if his papa or mamma were in sight. "Ha! There is no use looking up there!" said the cunning tiger, lashing his striped sides with his long tail. "There's no one up there to help you!" Poor Mappo saw that this was so. There was none of his brothers or sisters up in the tree-house. Nor was his papa or mamma there. The whole monkey family had gone off to look for more cocoanuts, since those they had had were all eaten up. Just before starting out Mrs. Monkey had said: "Where is Mappo?" "Oh, he just went on ahead," said Bumpo, who had seen his brother scrambling down the tree toward the ground. Bumpo did not know what his brother was going to do, or that Mappo intended to play a trick with the empty cocoanut shell. "Oh, if he's gone on ahead, then we'll catch up to him," said Mrs. Monkey. So away they all went, leaving the tree-house empty, and expecting to meet Mappo somewhere on the road through the jungle. But they did not, and there was poor Mappo on the ground right in front of the bad tiger. The tiger knew none of the monkey family was near the tree-house except Mappo. That was what made the tiger so bold. For, had Mr. Monkey, or Mrs. Monkey, been at home they would have seen, or smelled the tiger. Monkeys, and other creatures of the jungle, can often smell danger much better and more quickly than they can see it. And, had Mr. or Mrs. Monkey smelled the tiger, they would have kept their little ones safe in the tree, and would have shouted loudly, to warn all the other monkeys of the danger of the bad tiger. "Well, you can't get away from me this time!" growled the tiger, speaking in his own language, which Mappo understood very well, just as the tiger understood the monkey talk. For, though monkeys, tigers and elephants, as well as cats and dogs, cannot speak our language, they have a way of their own for talking one to another. To us it may sound only like chatter, growls, meows and barks, but it is really talk. Wouldn't it be nice if we could understand animals as well as they understand us? For they can understand our talk, you know. Else how would a horse know when to start and stop, when the driver tells him? Or how would your dog know when to come to you, and to lie down when you tell him to, if he didn't understand you? Tell me that, if you please. So Mappo understood the tiger, and the tiger understood Mappo. The little monkey, still keeping tight hold of the empty cocoanut shell, looked at the crouching tiger as bravely as he could. Nearer and nearer crept the striped beast. But don't you be afraid. I have a way of saving Mappo, and I'm going to do it, too! "Chatter! Chatter! Chip! Chip! Whew! Zur-r-r-r-r!" went Mappo in his queer monkey talk. That was his way of calling for help. All monkeys do that in the jungle, when they are in danger. They want a whole lot more monkeys to come and help them. "There's no use in your calling that way!" growled the tiger, deep in his throat. "Nobody can hear you!" Mappo began to believe that this was so. All the monkeys seemed to have gone away from that part of the jungle. He was all alone with the tiger. Now Mappo was a brave little chap, but being brave is not going to do one much good, when there's a tiger in the way. So Mappo thought, besides being brave, he might be polite, and ask a favor of the tiger. For animals are often more kind to one another than we think. If you watch them sometimes, as I have done, you will see that this is so. So Mappo made up his mind he would ask the tiger, as a favor, not to bite or eat him. "And, if he won't be kind to me," thought Mappo, "well, then maybe something else will happen. Maybe papa will come, with a whole lot more monkeys, and drive the tiger away. Or, if he does not, well, maybe something else will happen," and Mappo looked at the empty cocoanut shell in his paw. "Please let me go, Mr. Tiger!" begged Mappo. "I never did anything to you. Let me go!" "No. I'll not!" growled the tiger. "I'm hungry and I want something to eat. I chased after a goat half the morning, but it got away from me. Then I tried to get a little deer, but it ran back with the rest of the deer, and, as the big deer had such sharp horns, I dared not go after it. So I haven't had anything to eat, and I'm very hungry. You haven't any horns, none of your monkey friends are near, and I'm going to eat you!" Mappo looked to see how far it was to the nearest tree. It was some distance off, but the little monkey boy knew if he could reach it he would be safe. For, in the tree, he could run much faster, from branch to branch, than could the tiger on the ground. But in getting over the ground on his four paws the monkey was a bit slow. And the tiger, in one jump could grab Mappo if the monkey started to run. "Well, there's no use trying to get away from him by running on the ground," thought Mappo. "He'd have me in a second. And there's no use asking a favor of him. He seems to be mad at me. I wonder how I can get away from him!" Once more Mappo looked at the empty cocoanut shell in his paw--the shell with which he was going to play a trick on Jacko or Bumpo. Nearer and nearer to Mappo crept the tiger, lashing his tail from side to side. Tigers always do that, just as cats do when they are trying to catch a bird in the garden. Tigers are only big cats, you know, very much bigger and stronger than your pussy. And they always creep slowly, slowly up toward anything they are going to catch, until they are near enough to give one jump and grab it in their claws. That is what the tiger was trying to do to Mappo. All of a sudden Mappo raised the paw that held the cocoanut shell. The little monkey chap made up his mind to be brave and save himself if he could. "Take that, Mr. Tiger!" called Mappo, all at once. With all his might he threw the empty cocoanut shell right at the tiger's head. Monkeys are very good throwers. They are almost as good as are baseball boys at that sort of thing. "Bang!" went the cocoanut on the tiger's head. It cracked open--I mean the cocoanut cracked open--where Mappo had stuck it together. It made quite a noise. "Oh my!" cried the tiger, jumping up suddenly, for he did not know what to make of the cocoanut shell in his face. Mappo had thrown it so suddenly. Then, as the tiger heard the cracking of the cocoanut shell, he thought it was his own head. Tigers are sometimes silly that way, no matter if they are strong, and have sharp claws. "Oh my head! My head!" cried the tiger. "It is broken!" You see he really thought it was. The crack of the cocoanut shell made him think that it was his own silly, bad head. Up in the air reared the tiger on his hind legs. This was just the chance Mappo wanted. "Here I go!" thought the little monkey chap. "Here's where I get away." As fast as Mappo could go he scrambled over the ground toward the tree where his house was built. By this time the tiger had seen the empty cocoanut shell fall to the ground, and the striped creature knew what had happened. "Ha! That monkey boy! He did that!" growled the tiger. "He can't fool me that way! I'll get him! I'll fix him for playing tricks on me!" Finding that his head was all right, and not cracked as he had feared it was, the tiger gave a big jump, and ran after Mappo. But Mappo was not waiting for him. The little monkey boy was now far across the open place on the ground, and was climbing up into a tree as fast as he could go. "Come back here!" growled the tiger, making a spring for Mappo. But Mappo was safely out of the way. The tiger's claws stuck in the trunk of the tree, tearing loose some bits of bark, but Mappo was not hurt. He got safely away. Then, sitting up in the tree on a high limb, Mappo, as he looked down at the tiger, chattered: "Ha! You didn't get me after all! You didn't catch me! I fooled you! Chatter-chatter-chat! Bur-r-r-r! Wuzzzzzzz! Whir-r-r-r-r-r!" That's the way Mappo chattered, not so much to make fun of the bad tiger, as to warn the other monkeys in the woods that the bad striped animal was near, and that there was danger in the jungle. "Chatter-chatter-chat! Bur-r-r-r-r! Whe-e-e-e-e! Zir-r-r-r!" chattered the other monkeys, far off in the jungle, as they heard Mappo's warning. The woods were filled with the sound they made. "Well, I might as well go away," thought the tiger. "They will all be on the lookout for me now. I'll have to wait until after dark to catch a monkey, or something else to eat. Bur-r-r-r-r-r! But I'm hungry!" So the tiger slunk away, and I guess no one else in the woods felt sorry that he had not caught Mappo. They were all glad the monkey boy had gotten away, and Mappo was especially glad, on his own account. "Ha! That was a good trick of yours--to throw the empty cocoanut shell at the tiger, Mappo," said an old grandfather monkey, high in a tree. Mappo had told his friends, the other monkeys, what had happened. "Yes, indeed it was," said an uncle monkey. "Mappo is a smart boy to think of such a trick." This made Mappo feel pretty proud of himself. "Do you know where my papa and mamma are?" he asked. "They went off over toward the banana grove," said the grandfather monkey. "Be careful of the tiger if you follow them." "I will," promised Mappo. But the tiger had slunk away now, so Mappo thought it would be safe to travel through the jungle, especially if he kept up in the trees, and did not go down on the ground. Off Mappo started after his folks, who had gone on, thinking to catch up to him. Mappo had not gone very far before he came to a place in the woods where he saw something very strange. It was strange and also nice, for, down on the ground, were a number of pieces of white cocoanut. "Well, that's good!" thought Mappo. "Cocoanut already shelled to eat. I wonder who could have left that there for me. Maybe my papa or mamma did, knowing I would come this way. Yes, that must be it. They are very kind to me. I'll go down and get some of that sweet cocoanut." Now Mappo was not a very wise little monkey. He had not lived long enough to know all the dangers of the jungle. There were dangers from tigers and other wild beasts. Some of those dangers Mappo knew about, and he also knew how to keep out of their way. But there were other dangers from men--from hunters--and these Mappo did not know so well. For, as yet, he had never seen a man--a human being. Mappo had only lived in the jungle where men very seldom came, and those men were brown or black men. But men knew monkeys were in the woods, and men wanted the monkeys for circuses, for menageries and for hand-organs. That is the reason men try to catch monkeys. Mappo looked all around the forest from the top of the tree where he had come to rest. He saw no signs of danger. He saw only white pieces of cocoanut on the ground. "I'll go down and get some, and then I'll run on and find my papa and mamma and brothers and sisters," thought Mappo. "They will want some of this cocoanut." Down he went, and began picking up the bits of cocoanut. They were rather small pieces and Mappo had to eat a great many of them before he felt he had enough. Each piece was a little way beyond the next one, and Mappo kept on walking along slowly as he picked them up. Finally he saw a very large piece. He reached for it with his paw, and then, all at once something happened. Something like a big spider's web seemed to fall down out of a tree right over Mappo. In an instant he was all tangled up--his paws and tail were caught. He yelled and chattered in fright, and tried to get loose, but the more he tried, the tighter the meshes of the net fell about him. Poor Mappo was caught. He had been caught by a hunter's net in the jungle, and the pieces of cocoanut were only bait, just as you bait a mouse trap with cheese. "Oh!" cried Mappo, in his shrill, chattering voice. "Oh dear! I am caught!" Tighter and tighter the net closed over him. CHAPTER IV MAPPO IN A BOX Poor Mappo was not a merry monkey just then. Usually he was a jolly little fellow, laughing and chattering in his own way, and playing tricks on his brothers and sisters. Now he felt very little like doing anything of that sort. "And to think that I was going to play a trick with the empty cocoanut shell, just a little while before this happened to me," thought Mappo, as he tried very hard to get loose from the net in which he was all tangled up. "I wonder what has happened to me, anyhow," said Mappo to himself. And, as Mappo did not find out for some little time I will tell you. He had been caught by a native hunter, in a net made from long pieces of a trailing vine, which was as strong as a rope. In the country where Mappo lived there were many people called natives--that is they had never lived in any country but their own, and they were a queer sort of people. They wore very few clothes, for it was too hot to need many. They were a black, savage people, and they lived by hunting with their spears, and bows and arrows. They hunted wild animals--lions, tigers, elephants and monkeys. Some of the wild animals they used for food, and others they sold to white men who wanted them for circuses and menageries. And monkeys were generally the easiest to catch. Some of these black, half-clothed, savage natives had spread a vine net in the forest. The net, being made of vines, could not be seen until some animal got close to it. And to make monkeys come close to the net, so it would fall down over them, when one end was pulled loose by a native (hidden behind a tree) bits of cocoanut were sprinkled about. Monkeys are very fond of cocoanut, and the natives knew, when the little long-tailed creatures went to pick up the white pieces, that they would come nearer and nearer to the trap-net, until they were caught. That was what had happened to Mappo. The little monkey tried and tried again to break out of the net, but he could not. It was too strong. Tighter and tighter it was pulled about him, until he could struggle no more. He lay there, a sad little lump of monkey in the net. Then some black men, with long sharp sticks, or spears, gathered about him, and talked very fast and loud. You would not have understood what they said, if you had heard them, any more than you can understand dog and cat talk, but Mappo knew some of what they were saying, for he had lived in the jungle all his life, and these were natives, or jungle men. "Ha! We caught only one monkey!" exclaimed one tall, black man, with a long spear. "Well, but he is a good one," another man said. "We will take him to the coast in a box, and sell him to the white men who will take him away in a ship. We will get many things for him, lots of beads to put around our necks, some brass wire to make rings for our noses and ankles, and red cloth to wear." The natives, you see, did not want money. They wanted beads and bits of shiny brass wire, or gay-colored cloth, to make themselves look, as they thought, very fine. They even put rings in their noses, as well as in their ears, to decorate themselves. "Ha! So this is not the end of me!" thought Mappo, when he heard the black men thus talking. "I am to be put in a box, and taken to a ship, it seems. I wonder what a ship is like. Well, as long as I am not to be hurt, perhaps it will be fun after all. But I wish they would let my mamma and papa, and sisters and brothers come with me. It is no fun being all by yourself." But of course Mappo's folks were, by this time, a long way off in the jungle woods, wondering where Mappo himself was. If they had seen him in the net, they might have tried to get him out, but they did not see him. The net was now pulled so tightly about the little monkey, that he was in some pain. "Bring up the box, and we'll put him in it," said one of the black men. Another native came up with a box made of tree branches nailed together. It was what is called a crate--that is, there were spaces between the slats so Mappo could look out and get air. "Look out. He may bite you!" called one native to another, as the crate was placed near the net. "Oh, I won't give him a chance!" the other native said. "Ha! I won't bite!" chattered Mappo, but the natives did not understand him. They knew very little of monkey talk. Mappo made up his mind that he would be good, for his mamma had often told him that was the best way to get along in this world. "But I'm sure she never thought I would be caught in a net," said Mappo to himself. "I wonder if she would mean me to be good now; and not bite. I guess she would, so I won't nip anybody." Mappo had very sharp teeth, even if he was a monkey, and he could give some good hard bites. But now he was going to be good. The net, with poor Mappo in it, was dragged up close to the crate, and a door in the crate was opened. Then part of the net was pulled to one side, and Mappo saw a hole where he thought he might slip out. He gave a jump, hoping he could get back into the tall trees again. "And if I do, I'll never eat any more cocoanut, unless my mamma or papa gives it to me!" thought Mappo. So he gave a jump out of the net, but, in a second he found himself inside the wooden crate, or box. He had gone into it when the net was open opposite the door of the crate. In another second the door was shut and fastened, and Mappo was a prisoner in a new prison. He could not get out, no matter how hard he tried. "There he is, safe and sound!" chattered the natives, in their queer language, which was as much like monkey talk as anything else. "Now we can carry him to the coast, and sell him to the white men. Come on." "I wonder where the coast is," thought Mappo, and I might tell you, in case you don't know, that the coast is the seashore. [Illustration: So he gave a jump out of the net, but, in a second, found himself inside the wooden crate or box. (Page 47)] The ships, in which white men come to the jungle countries, go only as far as the seashore. They cannot go on the land, or into the interior, where the wild animals live. So when the natives catch monkeys, or other creatures, they have to carry them to the coast. "Well, this isn't very nice," thought Mappo, as he looked at the little crate, inside of which he now found himself. "I haven't much room to move around here, and I don't see anything to eat, or drink." He was not very hungry, for he had eaten a lot of the cocoanut just before being caught in the net. But he was thirsty. However, he saw no water, and, though he chattered, and asked for it as nicely as he knew how, he got none--at least, not right away. Mappo's fur was all ruffled by being caught in the net, and he now began to smooth that out, until he looked more like himself. He peered through between the slats of his cage with his queer little eyes, and there was a sad look in them, if any one had noticed. But no one did. The natives were getting ready to carry Mappo to the coast. Poor Mappo looked out on the green jungle where he had lived ever since he could remember. He did not know that he was never to see it again. He would never climb the big trees, and swing from one branch to another. He would not play tag with his brothers and sisters, nor would he open cocoanuts on a sharp stick and by dropping them on a stone. Mappo was to be taken away from his nice jungle. Of course he did not know all this at once. All he knew now was that he was in a little crate, where he had hardly room enough to turn around, and no room at all to hang by his tail. "Come on--let's start with him!" called one of the black men. "We'll take him to the white people, and come back and catch some more monkeys." "Oh, I hope they catch some of my folks!" thought Mappo. He did not wish any harm to happen to his father or mother, or sisters or brothers, you know, but he was so lonesome, that he wanted to see some of them. The natives thrust long poles through the slats of Mappo's box, and, putting the poles over their shoulders, off through the jungle they started to march. Poor Mappo was very thirsty by this time, but though he chattered very hard, and cried "Water!" over and over again, in his monkey language, no one paid any attention to him. On and on went the natives, carrying the little monkey in a crate. After a while some other black men came along another path, and they, too, had boxes slung on poles, and in the boxes were other animals. In one was a big striped tiger, and when Mappo saw him, the monkey crouched down in a corner of his box and covered his eyes with his paws. "Oh, maybe it's the same tiger that tried to catch me, and whom I hit on the head with the empty cocoanut," thought Mappo. "If it is, he'll be very angry at me, and try to get me. "Oh dear! This is too bad. I guess this is the end of me!" Mappo cried. The natives carrying Mappo, in his box, ran forward with him, and as he looked out, he saw that his crate was close to the one in which was the growling, striped tiger. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" thought poor Mappo. "He'll get me sure!" CHAPTER V MAPPO ON THE SHIP Mappo, who had taken his paws down from his eyes long enough to look at the striped tiger, now blind-folded himself, with his paws again, and shivered. All of a sudden the tiger growled, and Mappo shivered still more. "Ha! Growl and roar as much as you like!" called one of the black natives. "You can't get out of there, Sharp-Tooth!" That was the name the jungle men had given the tiger. "You can't get out of that crate!" went on the native, and when Mappo heard that, he took down his paws once more, and looked at the tiger. He was sure it was the same one at whom he had thrown the cocoanut, and he wondered how the fierce, strong beast had been caught. Then Mappo looked at the crate in which the tiger was being carried along through the jungle. "Ha! That is a good, strong crate!" thought Mappo. "It is much stronger than the one I am in. I guess the tiger can't get out, and I am glad of it. I mean I am sorry he is shut up, and I am sorry for myself, that I am shut up, and being taken away, but I would not like the tiger to get loose, while I am near him." And indeed the cage holding the tiger was very strong. It had big pieces of tree branches for slats, and it took eight men to carry it, for the tiger was very heavy. Side by side, slung in their crates on the poles, over the shoulders of the black natives, Mappo and Sharp-Tooth, the tiger, were carried through the jungle. The tiger kept walking back and forth in his cage. It was just long enough to allow him to take two steps one way, and two steps the other way. And he kept going back and forth all the while, up and down, his red tongue hanging out of his mouth, for it was very hot. His fur, too, was scratched and cut, as though he had fought very hard, before he had let the natives catch him and put him into the crate. Mappo was not so much afraid now, and once, when his cage was close to that of the tiger, the big, striped beast spoke to the little monkey. Of course he talked in tiger language, which the natives could not understand, but Mappo could. "Ha! So they caught you too, little monkey?" asked the tiger. "Yes, I got caught in a net, while I was eating some cocoanut," answered Mappo. "The cocoanut was bait," said the tiger. "I got caught eating a little goat. The goat was bait, too, and they caught me in a noose that almost choked me. Then they slipped me in this box when I was half dead. If I had had my strength, they never would have gotten me in it!" and the tiger roared and growled, and tried to break out of his crate. But it was too strong--he could not. "Keep quiet there, Sharp-Tooth!" cried one of the black natives who was marching along beside the tiger's cage. "Keep quiet, or I shall hit you on the nose with a stick," and the black man held up a hard stick. The tiger growled, away down deep in his throat, and kept quiet. But still he spoke to Mappo, now and then. "Seems to me I have seen you before, somewhere, little monkey," said Sharp-Tooth. "Yes, you--you tried to eat me, if you please," said Mappo, who spoke politely, because he was still afraid of the tiger. "Did I?" asked the tiger. "Well, I have to live, you know. And I have eaten so many monkeys that one, more or less, doesn't matter. So I tried to eat you, eh? I wonder why I didn't finish. I usually eat what I set out to." "I--I hit you on the head with an empty cocoanut shell and ran away," said Mappo. "Oh, that's so. You did!" exclaimed the tiger. "I thought I remembered you. So you're the chap who played that trick on me, eh? Well, I thought I knew you. Ha! Yes. An empty cocoanut shell! I remember I was quite frightened. I thought my head was broken. But never mind. I forgive you. One shouldn't remember things like that when friends are in trouble. Listen, little monkey, will you do me a favor?" "What is it?" asked Mappo, wondering how he, a little monkey, could do anything to help a big, strong tiger. "Will you help me out of this cage?" asked the tiger. "How can I?" inquired Mappo. "Very easily," the tiger said. "I know what is going to become of us. We are to be taken to the big ocean-water, and put in a house that floats on the waves." That was what the tiger called a ship; a house that floats on the waves. "How do you know this is to happen to us?" asked Mappo. "Because I heard the black men talking of it," said Sharp-Tooth. "And, after a long while, we will land in another country, where there is no jungle, such as we love." "That will be too bad," Mappo said. "But still, it may be nice in that other country, and we may have many adventures." "Bah! I do not want adventures!" the tiger growled. "All I want is to be left alone in my jungle, where I can kill what I want to eat, drink from the jungle pool, and sleep in the sun. I hate these men! I hate this cage! Once before I was caught and put in one, but I broke out and got away. This time they have been too strong for me. But you can help me to escape." "How?" asked Mappo. "Listen!" whispered the tiger, putting his big mouth, filled with sharp teeth, close to the side of his cage, and nearest to Mappo's crate. "Listen! Your paws are like hands and fingers. To-night, when the natives set our crates down, to take their sleep, you can open your cage, slip out and come over and open mine. I have tried to open my own, but I cannot. However, you can easily do it. Then we will both be free, and we can run away to the jungle together: Come, will you do it? I am very hungry! I want to get off in the jungle and get something to eat." Mappo thought for a minute. He was a smart little monkey, and he feared if he opened the tiger's cage for him, the big chap might be so hungry that he would eat the first thing he saw, which would be Mappo himself. "Will you open my cage for me after dark?" asked Sharp-Tooth. "I'll think about it," answered back Mappo. But he had no idea of letting out that tiger. "I'm sure he must still be angry at me for hitting him with that empty cocoanut," said Mappo, "and if he is loose he can easily crush me with one stroke of his paw. No, I think I will not let him out, though I am sorry he is caught. But I will try to get out myself, and run back to my mamma and papa, and sisters and brothers. Yes, I will do that." After the tiger had asked Mappo to help him get out of the cage, Sharp-Tooth pretended to go to sleep. He wanted to fool the natives, you see, and make believe he was going to be good and gentle. "Oh, but won't I roar and bite and scratch when I do get out!" thought the tiger. Perhaps he would not have hurt Mappo, had the monkey opened the cage; but I cannot be sure of that. All day long through the jungle tramped the natives, carrying the wild animals in their crates. There were several besides Mappo and Sharp-Tooth. There were snakes, in big boxes, other monkeys, a rhinoceros, a hippopotamus, two lions, who roared dreadfully all the while, and many other beasts. In fact, it was a small circus marching through the jungle, and all the animals had been caught, in one way or another, to be sold to circuses and menageries. But in this book I will tell you mostly about Mappo, just as in other books I have told you of Squinty, the comical pig, and Slicko, the jumping squirrel. "Oh, I do wish I had something to eat!" thought poor Mappo. But he did not see anything for a long time. It was getting dark when the natives, carrying the crates, set them down in the jungle, and began to build fires to cook their supper. They were going to camp out in the woods all night, and they had stopped near a pool of water. Mappo smelled the water. So did the other animals, and they began to howl for drinks. You remember I told you wild animals can often smell better than they can see. The natives did not want to be cruel to the animals; they only wanted to sell them to the white people. And the natives knew if the animals did not get something to drink, they might die. So, pretty soon, they began to give the beasts water to drink. Mappo got some, and oh! how good it was to his little dry throat and mouth. "Don't forget, you are going to let me loose in the night," whispered the tiger to Mappo, as it grew darker and darker in the jungle. Mappo said nothing. He pretended to be asleep. But, all the same, he made up his mind that he was _not_ going to let the tiger loose. When it was all dark and quiet in the camp, Mappo tried to open his own cage with his smart little fingers. But the natives were smarter than the little monkey. They knew all monkeys were very good at picking open boxes, so they had made this one, for Mappo, especially tight. Mappo tried his best, but he could not get out. So, after all, he did not have to play any trick on the tiger, and not let Sharp-Tooth out, and he was glad of it. "Hist! Hist!" the tiger called, from his crate, near that of Mappo. "Aren't you going to let me out?" "I can't get out myself," answered the little monkey. "Bur-r-r-r-r! Wow! Wuff!" roared the tiger. And then he was so angry that he growled and jumped about, trying to break out of his cage. The natives awoke, and one of them, running over to Sharp-Tooth, said: "Quiet here, tiger, or I shall have to hit you on the nose with a stick!" But the tiger would not be quiet, and, surely enough, the black man hit him on the nose with a stick. The tiger howled and then became quiet. All the other animals who had made different noises when they heard the racket made by Sharp-Tooth, grew quiet also. Mappo went back to sleep, after trying once more to open his crate so he could get away in the jungle. "I guess I shall have to let them put me on the house in the big water," he said to himself. "Never mind, I may have some fine adventures." When morning came, the natives got their breakfast, fed the animals in the crates, and off they started once more through the forest. Mappo looked out of his cage, and he could see, swinging along in the trees on either side of the jungle path, other monkeys like himself. But they were free, and could climb to the tops of the tallest trees. Mappo called to them, in his own language, and told them to take the news to his papa and mamma that he had been caught in a net, and was being taken away to a far country. The wild monkeys promised that they would let Mr. and Mrs. Monkey know what had become of Mappo. In this way Mappo's folks learned what had happened to him, but they never saw him again, nor did he see them. But monkeys are not like a boy or girl. Once they leave their homes, they do not mind it very much. They are always willing to look at something new. Though, of course, they may often wish they were out of their cages, and back in the jungle again. After some days the natives, with the wild animals, reached the big ocean. Mappo had never seen so much water before. He looked at it through the slats of his crate. A little way out from shore he saw what looked like a big house floating on the water. This was the ship. Soon, in small boats, all the animals were taken aboard the ship, Mappo among them. "Now my adventures are really beginning," thought Mappo, as he found himself in a cage on deck, next to some other monkeys, and a big cow with a hump on her back. She was a sacred cow. CHAPTER VI MAPPO MEETS TUM TUM Mappo did not know what a ship was, nor how it floated over the ocean from one country to another, blown by the wind or pushed by steam engines. The little monkey could not see much except the other monkeys in crates on the deck near him. Finally Mappo did hear a deep growl from somewhere behind him. "Ha!" snarled a voice. "There will be little chance to get away now! Why didn't you let me out of my cage, monkey?" "I--I couldn't," said Mappo, and he looked around to see the tiger close to him. Sharp-Tooth was in his own cage and could not reach Mappo. For this the monkey was very glad. All the black men who had carried the wild animals through the jungle had gone now. In their places were white men, quite different. Mappo did not know which he liked better, but the white men seemed to be kind, for some of them brought food and water to the animals. "Are we on the ship, or water-house, now?" asked Mappo, as he felt as though he were being moved along. "Yes, we are on a ship, and we'll never see the jungle any more," said the tiger. "Oh wow!" and he roared very loudly. "Quiet there!" called one of the white men, and he banged with his stick on the tiger's cage. The tiger growled, and lay down. Now it was quiet aboard the ship, which soon started away from the shores of the hot, jungle country toward another land, where it is warm part of the time and cold part of the time. Mappo was on his way to have many new adventures. For several days the little monkey boy did nothing but stay in his cage, crouched in one corner, looking out between the slats. He could see nothing, for, all around him, were other cages. But when he looked up, through the top of his cage, he could see a little bit of blue sky. It was the same kind of blue sky he had looked at from his tree-house in the jungle, now so far away, and Mappo did not feel so lonesome, or homesick, when he watched the white clouds sail over the little patch of blue sky. For you know animals do get homesick just as do boys and girls. Often, in circuses and menageries, the animals become so homesick, and long so for the land from which they have been taken, that they become ill and die. When a keeper sees one of his pet animals getting homesick, he tries to cure him. He may put the homesick animal into another cage, or give him different things to eat--things he had in his own country. Or the keeper may put the homesick animal in with some different and new beasts, so the homesick one may have something new to think about. Monkeys very often become homesick, but so do elephants, tigers and lions. It is a sad thing to be homesick, even for animals. But Mappo was not very homesick. In the first place he was not a very old monkey, and he had not lived in the jungle very long, though he had been there all his life. Then, too, he was anxious to have some adventures. So, though when he looked at the bit of blue sky, and thought of his home in the deep, green woods, he had a wish, only for a moment, to go back there. He had enough to eat on the ship, plenty of cool water to drink, and he knew he was in no danger from the tiger or other wild beasts bigger than himself. For the tiger was fastened up in a big strong cage, and could not get out. Mappo, on board the ship, chattered and talked with the other monkeys in cages all around him. He asked how they had been caught, and they told him it was in the same way as he had been--by picking up good things to eat on the ground, and so being tangled up in a net. "And I don't know what is going to happen to me now," said a little girl monkey, with a very sad face. "Oh, cheer up!" cried Mappo, in his most jolly voice. "I am sure something nice will happen to all of us. See, we are having a nice ride in the water-house, and we have all we want to eat, without having to hunt for it in the woods." "Yes, but I want my papa and mamma!" cried the little girl monkey. Mappo tried to make her feel happier, but it was hard work. As for Mappo, himself, he was feeling pretty jolly, but then he was always a merry monkey. As the ship sailed on, over the ocean, it left behind the warm, jungle country where Mappo had always lived. The weather grew more cool, and though Polar Bears like cold weather, and are happy when they have a cake of ice to sit on, monkeys do not. Monkeys must be kept very warm, or they catch cold, just as boys and girls do. So, as the ship sailed farther and farther north, on its way to a new country, Mappo felt the change. Though he was covered with thick hair, or fur, he could not help shivering, especially at night when the sun had gone down. The man in charge of the wild animals that were to go to the circus knew how to look after them. He knew which ones had to be kept warm, and which ones cold. "You must cover up the monkeys' cages these nights," said the man to a sailor one afternoon, as he saw Mappo and the others shivering. "Keep them warm." "Aye, aye, sir," answered the sailor, which was his way of saying, "Yes, sir!" Heavy coverings were spread over the monkeys' cages every night, but even then Mappo shivered, and so did the others. It was quite different from the warm jungle where he could sleep out of doors with only his own fur for a bedquilt. "I guess we'll have to move the monkeys down below, if it gets much colder," said the animal man to the sailor. "They'll freeze up here." "Free-e-e-e-eze! I-I-I-I--I g-g-g-g-guess we will!" chattered Mappo, and he shivered so that he stuttered when he talked. Of course he spoke monkey language, and the men could not understand him. But they could understand his shivering, and soon they began to move the cages to a warmer place. Mappo and the other animals who need to be kept warm were lowered through a hole down inside the ship. It was in a place called a "hold." And it was called that, I suppose, because it was made to hold the cargo of wild animals carried by the ship. Mappo did not like it so well down in this part of the ship as he had liked it on deck. But it was warmer, and that was a great deal. Still he could not see the little patch of blue sky that had reminded him of his jungle home. "I wonder what has become of Sharp-Tooth, the big tiger?" asked Mappo, of one of the other monkeys. "Oh, I saw them lower his cage down into another part of the ship," said a big monkey. "I am glad of it, too, for I don't like him so near us. He might break out some night, and bite us." "He wanted me to let him out," said Mappo. "Gracious! I hope you didn't think of such a thing!" cried a little girl monkey. "No, I didn't," Mappo said. "How did you happen to know the tiger?" asked the big monkey. "Oh, he tried to get me once," Mappo answered, "and I threw an empty cocoanut shell in his face!" "You did!" cried all the other monkeys. "How brave you were!" said the little girl monkey. Mappo was beginning to feel that way himself! For several days nothing much happened to Mappo, after he and his monkey friends had been moved to the warm part of the ship. They had things to eat, and water to drink, and they slept a good deal of the time. One day the sailor who always fed Mappo stood in front of the cage, and, looking in, said: "I wonder if you'd bite me if I petted you a bit? You look like a nice chap, and I like monkeys. I wonder if I couldn't teach you some tricks. Then you'd be worth more to the circus. You'll have to learn tricks in the circus, anyhow, and you might as well begin now. I think I'll pet you a bit." "Chatter! Chatter! Chat! Bur-r-r-r! Snip!" went Mappo. That meant, in his language, that he would not think of biting the kind sailor who had fed and watered him. But the sailor was careful. Very slowly he put out his hand, and, reaching through the bars, he stroked Mappo's soft fur. "That's a good chap!" said the sailor. "I believe you are going to be nice after all." "Bur-r-r-r! Wopp!" said Mappo. That meant: "Of course I am!" In a few days the sailor and Mappo were good friends, and one afternoon the sailor opened the cage door and let the monkey out. Then Mappo grew quite excited. It was the first time he had been loose since he had been caught, and he was so glad to run about, and use his legs and tail, that, before he knew what he was doing, he had jumped right over the sailor's head, and had scrambled up on the ship's deck. "Oh, a monkey's loose! One of the monkeys has gotten away!" cried the sailors. "Never mind! I'll catch him!" said the one who had been kind to Mappo. Mappo ran and leaped. He saw something like a tall tree, only it had no branches on it. But there were ropes and ladders fast to it, and, in an instant, Mappo had scrambled up them to the top of the tall thing. It was the mast of the ship, but Mappo did not know that. Away up to the top he went, and, curling his tail around a rope, there he sat. "Make him come down!" cried the captain. "I can't have a monkey on top of my ship's mast! Somebody climb up after him and bring him down." "I'll go," said a sailor. Now a sailor is a good climber, but not nearly so good as a monkey. Mappo waited until the sailor was almost up to him, and then, quick as a flash, Mappo swung himself out of the way by another rope, and, just as he had done in the jungle, he went over to the top of another mast. "There he goes!" cried the sailors on deck. "Yes, I see he does," said the sailor who had tried to catch Mappo. "You had better come down," spoke the man who had let Mappo out of the cage. "I think he'll come down for me." In his hand he held some lumps of sugar, of which Mappo was very fond. "Come on down, old chap," called the sailor. "No one will hurt you. Come and get the sugar." Now whether Mappo had had enough of being loose, or whether it was too cold for him up on the mast, I can't say. Perhaps he wanted the sugar, and, again, he might not have wanted to make trouble for his kind friend, the sailor, who had let him out. Anyhow, Mappo came slowly down, and took some of the sugar from the sailor's hand. The sailor took hold of the collar around Mappo's neck. [Illustration: Away up to the top he went, and, curling his tail around a rope, there he sat. (Page 71)] "Now lock up that monkey!" cried the captain. "And if he runs away again, we'll whip him." "No, it was my fault," the sailor said. "And I'd like him to be loose. I can teach him some tricks." "All right, do as you like," the captain spoke. "Only keep him off the mast." "I'm not going up there again," thought Mappo to himself. "It is too cold." "Come along," said the sailor, giving him another lump of sugar, and Mappo put one hairy little paw in the hand of the sailor, and walked along the deck with him. "I guess you were just scared, old fellow," the man said to the monkey. "When you get quieted down, you and I shall have lots of fun. You are almost as nice as my elephant, Tum Tum." This was the first Mappo had heard of the elephant. He knew what they were, for he had often seen the big creatures in the jungle, crashing their way through the trees, even pulling some up by the roots, in their strong trunks, to eat the tender green tops of the trees. "I didn't know there was an elephant on this ship," thought Mappo. But he was soon to find out there was. Two or three days after this Mappo was let out of his cage once more. This time he did not jump and run. He stayed quietly beside the sailor, and put his paw into the man's hand. "That's the way to do it," said the sailor. "Come now, we'll go below and see Tum Tum." Down into a deep part of the ship, near the bottom, the sailor took Mappo. Then the monkey could see a number of elephants chained to the walls. They were swaying their big bodies to and fro, and swinging their trunks. The sailor went up to the biggest elephant of them all, and, so Mappo thought, the most jolly-looking, and said: "Tum Tum, I have brought some one to see you. Here is a little monkey." Mappo looked up, and saw a jolly twinkle in the little eyes of Tum Tum. Mappo knew elephants were never unkind to monkeys, and, a moment later, Mappo had given a jump, up to the shoulder of the sailor, and then right on the back of Tum Tum. CHAPTER VII MAPPO IN THE CIRCUS "Well, I declare!" exclaimed the sailor who had brought Mappo downstairs in the ship to see Tum Tum, the jolly elephant. "You two animals seem to get along fine together!" And indeed Mappo and Tum Tum were the best of friends at once. Elephants and monkeys very seldom quarrel, and they live together in peace, even in the jungle, and do not fight, and bite and scratch, as some wild beasts do. "Hello!" said Mappo to Tum Tum, as the little monkey sat on the elephant's back. "Hello!" "Hello yourself!" answered Tum Tum, and his voice was deep and rumbling, away down in his long nose or trunk, while Mappo's was chattery and shrill, as a monkey's voice always is. "Well, where did you come from?" asked Mappo. "I've often seen you, or some elephant friends of yours in the jungle. How did you get on this ship with the other animals? You don't mean to say that the hunter men caught you--you, a great big strong elephant, do you?" "That's just what they did, Mappo," said Tum Tum, and the sailor, looking at the two animals, did not know they were telling secrets to each other. "I'll just leave 'em together a while," said the sailor. "I don't believe the monkey will run away, and, as he's getting homesick, it may make him feel better to be with the elephant a while." Mappo was indeed getting homesick for the jungle, and for his folks, but when he saw Tum Tum, he felt much better. "How did they catch you?" asked the monkey, as the sailor went up on deck, while Mappo and the elephant stayed down in the lower part of the ship, where it was nice and warm, talking to one another. "Oh, the hunters made a big, strong fence in the jungle," said Tum Tum. "They left one opening in it, and then they began to drive us elephants along toward it. We did not know what was happening until it was too late, and at last we were caught fast in a sort of big trap, and could not get out." "I should think you were so strong that you could easily have gotten out," Mappo said. "Well, we did try--we wild elephants," spoke Tum Tum. "We rushed at the bamboo fence, and tried to break it down with our big heads. But tame elephants, who had helped to drive us into the trap, came up, and struck us with their trunks, and stuck us with their tusks, and told us to be good, and not to break the fence, and that we would be kindly treated. So we behaved, and, after a while, we found ourselves on this ship." "Do you like it here?" asked Mappo. "Well, it isn't so bad," said Tum Tum. "I get all I want to eat, and I don't have to hunt for it. I am to go in a circus and menagerie, I hear. I don't quite know what that is, do you?" "Not exactly," answered Mappo, scratching his nose. "Well, maybe we'll be in it together," went on Tum Tum. "But how did you happen to get caught, and brought away from the jungle, little monkey?" Then Mappo told of being caught in the net when he picked up the pieces of cocoanut. "Were any other animals caught with you?" asked Tum Tum. "Oh, yes, the hunters had other animals--some monkeys, and a big tiger in a cage. He was named Sharp-Tooth, the tiger was." "Hush!" whispered Tum Tum through his trunk, and looking around carefully, he went on: "Don't let him know I'm here!" "Let who know?" asked Mappo. "Sharp-Tooth, the tiger. Don't tell him I'm here," Tum Tum said. "Why not?" the little monkey wanted to know. "Well, because he and I aren't friends," said Tum Tum. "You know in the jungle, hunters sometimes ride on the backs of myself, and my elephant friends, to hunt tigers. That's why the tigers don't like us. So don't mention to Sharp-Tooth that I'm on board this ship." "I won't, of course," spoke Mappo in his funny, monkey talk. "But it wouldn't matter, anyhow, as he's in a cage." "He might break loose, and scratch me," said Tum Tum. "So don't mention it to him." Mappo promised not to. He sat up there on the elephant's back a long time, and they talked of many things that had happened in the jungle woods. "Well, you two seem to like each other so well that I guess I'll leave you together," said the sailor, when he came back and found Mappo asleep on Tum Tum's back. "I'll bring the monkey's cage down here," the sailor went on, "and let him stay. They might just as well get acquainted, for they'll be together in the circus, anyhow." "That will be nice," thought Mappo, as he heard what the sailor said. Many things happened to Mappo aboard the ship in which he journeyed from the jungle to this country. I have not room to tell you about all of them in this book. Once there came a great storm, so that the big ship rolled and rocked like a rocking-chair, and Mappo felt ill. So did Tum Tum, and the other elephants, and they made loud noises through their trunks. Mappo and the other monkeys chattered with fear, and even Sharp-Tooth, the big striped tiger, in his cage, was afraid, and growled, while the lions roared like thunder. But finally the storm passed, the sea grew calm and the animals felt better. Then came a day when Mappo was shut up in his cage again. Most of the time he had been loose, to run about as he pleased. "I'm sorry to have to do it, old chap," said his sailor friend, "but all you animals are going to be taken off the ship now, and put ashore, and we don't want to lose you." "I don't want to get lost, either," said Mappo to himself. "I wonder what is going to happen now." Many things happened to him, and also to Tum Tum and the others. Mappo's cage, as well as the cages holding the lions and tigers, were lifted off the ship onto land. Then they were put on big wagons and carted off through a strange place. At first Mappo thought it was a new kind of jungle, for he saw some trees. But when Mappo saw many boys and girls, and men and women, all in strange dresses, not at all like the brown natives, and when he saw many houses, he knew it could not be a jungle. No, it was a big city where Mappo had been taken. And it was the city where the circus stayed in winter, the animals living in barns, and in menageries, instead of in tents. But when the warm summer came, they would be taken out on the road, and sent from place to place with the traveling circus. Of course, Mappo knew nothing of this yet. Neither did Tum Tum. Mappo's cage, with a number of others, was finally put into a big barn, where it was nice and warm. On the earth-floor of the barn was sawdust, and Mappo saw many men and horses, and many strange things. Finally a man came up to Mappo's cage. "Ha! So these are some of the monkeys I am to teach to do tricks, eh?" said the man. "Well, they look like nice monkeys. And that one seems a little tame. I think I'll begin on him," and he pointed right at Mappo. "Better look out," said another man. "Maybe he is an ugly chap, and will bite you." "Oh, indeed I won't!" chattered Mappo. "I guess I know better than that!" But of course the circus man did not understand this monkey talk. Mappo jumped about in his cage, for he felt that he was going to be taken out, and he was tired of being shut up. He wanted to hang by his tail, and do other things, as he had done in the jungle. "He's a lively little fellow, anyhow," said the circus man, as he opened the door of Mappo's cage. "Come on out, old chap," he went on, "and let's see what you look like." Very gently he took Mappo out, and Mappo was very quiet. He wanted to show the man how polite and nice even a jungle monkey could be, when he tried. "You're a nice fellow," the man said, stroking Mappo's back. "Now let's see. I guess I'll teach you first to ride a pony, or a dog, and then jump through paper hoops. After that you can turn somersaults, and sit up at the table and eat like a real child. Oh, I'll teach you many tricks." Mappo did not understand very much of this talk. No monkey could. But Mappo did understand the word "eat," and he wondered when the man was going to feed him, for Mappo was hungry. All around the circus barn different animals were being taught tricks, for the men were training them to be ready for the summer circus in the big tents. Horses were racing about sawdust rings, men were shouting and calling, and snapping long whips. In one corner a man was trying to make an elephant stand on his hind legs. Mappo looked a second time. "Why, that's Tum Tum! He's learning tricks too!" said Mappo, to himself. "That's fine! I hope he and I can do tricks together." Tum Tum did not look very happy. A long rope was fastened to him, and he was being pulled up so his head and trunk were in the air. That's how elephants are first taught to do the trick of standing on their hind legs. After a bit they learn to do it without being hoisted up by a rope. "Now then, monkey boy, here we are!" exclaimed the man who had taken Mappo out of his cage. The man soon found that Mappo was good and gentle. "Now for your first trick," the man said. "Here, Prince!" A great big, shaggy dog, almost as large as Sharp-Tooth, the tiger, came bounding into the circus ring. Right at Mappo rushed the dog, barking as loudly as he could: "Bow wow! Bow wow! Bow wow!" CHAPTER VIII MAPPO AND HIS TRICKS Mappo, the merry monkey, gave one look at the big dog rushing at him, and then, with a chatter of fright, sprang right up on the shoulder of the circus man. There Mappo sat, shivering, and looking down at the dog who kept on barking. "Oh ho! So you're afraid, are you?" asked the man, as he put up his hand and patted Mappo. "Well, you don't need to be, little chap. Prince wouldn't hurt you a bit, would you, old chap?" "Bow wow!" barked the dog, and I think he meant that he certainly would not--that he loved monkeys. In fact, any one would have loved Mappo, he was so kind and gentle, even though he had not had much training. "Now, Prince, just show this monkey how you can stand on your head," went on the circus man. "Show him how it's done." The dog kicked his hind legs up in the air, and there he was, standing up partly on his head, and partly on his forepaws. "That'll do, Prince!" the man called. "Down!" "Bow wow!" barked Prince, as he turned a somersault, and stood on his four feet. "You'll soon be doing tricks like that, little monkey," went on the circus man, speaking to Mappo, as though the little chap from the jungle could understand and answer him. And, as I have told you, Mappo could understand pretty nearly all the man said, but he could not talk back to him, except in monkey language, and that the man did not understand. "Now, Prince," said the circus man, "Mappo is going to have a ride on your back. I want you to go slowly with him at first so he will not fall off. Later on, you may run fast, and we'll have a race, with other monkeys on the backs of other dogs. And, when Mappo has learned to ride dog-back, I'll teach him to ride pony-back." "Bow wow!" barked Prince, just as though he understood it all. A bright red blanket was strapped around Prince, like a saddle on a horse, and over the dog's head were put some straps like the reins of a horse. Those were for Mappo to take hold of, and pretend he was driving the dog around the ring. "All right now. Here we go!" cried the man. "Come, Mappo!" Mappo, who had been watching Tum Tum learn to stand on his hind legs, now looked at the man and dog. The man lifted up the monkey and set him on the dog's back. He also put the reins in Mappo's little paws. "Now go, Prince!" said the man, and he walked along with the dog, holding Mappo on the back of Prince. At first Mappo did not understand what was wanted of him, and when Prince started off, the little monkey grew afraid, and tried to jump down and run away. But the man spoke gently to him. "There now, old fellow," said the circus man kindly. "No one is going to hurt you. You'll be all right. Just sit on. Prince won't run away with you." Mappo was not so frightened now, and as the man held him on the dog's back, he did not fall off. Around and around in a ring went Prince carrying Mappo. Finally the monkey saw that he was in no danger of falling, and he sat up straighter. "I guess you can go alone now," said the man. "Go on, Prince!" Mappo sat up proudly, holding the reins. He was riding alone, though of course not very fast, for Prince only walked now. For two or three days Mappo practiced this trick, and each day he did it better. Each day, too, when he had finished it, he was given something good to eat, and so was Prince. "Now we'll try it faster to-day," said the man, after Mappo had been in the circus about a week. "Run, Prince, and give Mappo a fast ride." Off started Prince, almost before Mappo was ready for him. And, just as you might expect, Mappo fell off and rolled over and over in the sawdust. "Chatter-chatter-chat! Bur-r-r-r! Buz-z-z-z-z! Wur-r-r-r-r!" went Mappo, excitedly. "Bow wow!" barked Prince, capering about. "Hold on! That's not the way to do it! You must hold on tightly!" cried the circus man. "Did you hurt yourself, Mappo?" asked Tum Tum, the jolly elephant, who was resting, after having stood up on his hind legs. He had seen Mappo fall. "No," answered the monkey, "I didn't hurt myself, but I don't like to fall that way. I don't like that trick." "Never mind," spoke Tum Tum kindly. "The next time you do it, and Prince runs fast, just wrap your tail around him, as you used to wrap it around a tree limb in the big jungle. Then you won't fall." "That's a good idea--I'll do it!" cried Mappo. [Illustration: Around and around in a ring went Prince carrying Mappo. (Page 87)] "Now we'll try it again," said the circus man. "Go a bit slower this time, Prince." "Bow wow! I will!" barked the dog. Once more Mappo took his place on the red blanket on the dog's back. He took the reins in his little paws, that were almost like your hands, and then, remembering what Tum Tum had said to him, Mappo wound his tail around the neck of Prince, but not so tightly as to hurt him. "Bow wow! What are you doing that for?" asked the dog. He knew how to speak so Mappo would understand him. "I am doing it so I will not fall off when you run fast, Prince," answered Mappo. "Ha! Ha! Very good!" laughed Prince, in the only way dogs can laugh, which is by barking softly. "That's a good trick, little monkey. If other monkeys were as smart as you they would learn their lessons more quickly. Now hold on tight, for I am going to run!" "I will!" promised Mappo. The circus man looked at what Mappo had done. "That is a smart little monkey," he said. "Now he will not fall." And this time, when Prince started off, and ran very fast around the sawdust ring, Mappo did not fall off. His tail, which was as good as a hand to him, was wrapped about the neck of Prince, and kept Mappo from slipping. Mappo could now do the dog-riding trick very well. No matter how fast Prince ran, the monkey would not fall off. A few days later more dogs and other monkeys were brought into the circus ring in the big barn, and they, too, raced around. But none of them could go as fast as Mappo and Prince, and, each time, they won the race around the sawdust ring. "That certainly is a smart little monkey!" the circus man would say over and over again. "I shall teach him many tricks. I will now see how he can ride on the back of a pony, and, after that, I will teach him to jump through paper hoops." Mappo did not very well understand what this meant, but he made up his mind he would do whatever was asked of him, and that he would do it as well as he could. A few days later some little Shetland ponies were brought into the barn, and Mappo was placed on the back of one of them. The pony was a little larger than Prince, and Mappo was farther from the ground. But the little monkey had climbed tall trees in the jungle, and he was not afraid of going up even on an elephant's back. So, of course, he was not afraid on Trotter, the pony. A blanket was strapped on Trotter's back, and as there was an iron ring in the strap, Mappo stuck his tail through that, and so held on. The other monkeys, who were also to ride ponies, saw what Mappo was doing, and they did the same thing. "Ha! It's good to have a smart monkey in the circus," said the man. "He shows the others what to do." Mappo was so smart, and such a good rider, that he easily took the lead in the race, and kept it. The ponies ran faster than the dogs had done, but, even then, neither Mappo nor any of the other monkeys fell off, for their tails were in the iron rings of the straps. "Well, how are you coming on?" asked Tum Tum of Mappo one day, when they were resting after having eaten their dinners. "Fine!" answered Mappo. "I can do many tricks now. What are you learning?" "Oh, many things," answered Tum Tum. "I have to play ball, grind a hand-organ with my trunk and make music, I have to play soldier, march around, and stand up on my hind legs and on my head." "Is it hard work?" asked Mappo. "Yes, but I like it," said Tum Tum. And some day soon, in another book, I shall tell you the many adventures of Tum Tum, the jolly elephant. "Well, now for a new trick," said the circus man to Mappo, one morning. "Soon it will be time for the circus to go out on the road, under the big tents, and I want you to do many tricks for the boys and girls." "I'll do all I can!" chattered Mappo, in his monkey language. This time, after he had ridden around the ring once or twice on the back of Prince, the circus man brought out some big wooden hoops, covered with paper. "You are to jump through these, Mappo," said the man. "Come, let me see how you can do it." Mappo was riding on Prince's back. All of a sudden, as Prince went around the sawdust ring, he came near to one of the rings the man held out. Mappo did not in the least know what he was to do, but, all at once, the man caught him up off the dog's back, and fairly tossed him through the paper ring. The paper burst with a crackling noise, and Mappo felt himself falling. "Oh dear!" thought the little monkey, "I wonder where I shall land!" CHAPTER IX MAPPO RUNS AWAY Mappo was so surprised, as he felt himself fairly flying through the paper hoop, that he did not know exactly what was happening. "I may land on the back of Tum Tum, for all I know," he thought. But, just as he said that to himself, he came down on the back of Prince, as if nothing had happened. "Hello, here we are again!" cried Prince, running on around the sawdust ring, with Mappo on his back. "You did that trick all right." "Yes, but the man tossed me through the paper-covered hoop," spoke Mappo, wonderingly. "That was to show you how to do it," went on Prince. "I have seen many monkeys do that trick." "Oh, I see," said Mappo. "There's the man with another hoop. Shall I jump right through it?" "Yes, don't wait for him to toss you," Prince said. "Though he didn't hurt you, did he?" "Not a bit," laughed Mappo, who rather liked doing that trick. The circus man stood up on a little box, holding the ring, all covered with red paper, ready for Mappo to jump through. And the man would have picked Mappo up, and tossed him through the ring, only the monkey did not wait for that. Instead, he gave a jump himself, and right through the ring he went, coming down on Prince's back as nicely as you please. Prince kept right on running around the sawdust ring. "Fine! That's the way to do it!" cried the circus man, clapping his hands. "I'll have to get you to show the other monkeys how to do it, Mappo! You're the first monkey who ever learned that trick so quickly." I guess I told you Mappo was a smart little chap. The rest of that day he spent practicing jumping through more paper-covered hoops, doing some of his jumps from the back of Trotter, the pony. Then other monkeys were brought in, and they watched Mappo. "Now let's see if they can do it," said the man, after Mappo had done his trick several times. Well, the other monkeys tried, and while some of them could do it pretty well, others fell off, or else were afraid of the paper hoops. No one did it as well as Mappo. From then on, the little monkey learned many circus tricks. He did not learn all of them as easily as he had learned to ride the dog and pony, or jump through the hoops. In fact, it took him several days to learn the trick of turning a somersault. And it took him longer to learn to sit up at a table, and eat with a knife, fork and spoon, dressed up like a little boy, with real clothes on. All this while the circus animals had remained in the big, warm barn, for it was still winter. But spring and summer were coming, and would soon be over all the land. Then the circus would start out with the tents, and the big red, green and golden wagons. Other animals were being trained, too. Tum Tum, the jolly elephant could do many tricks, and Mappo loved to watch his big friend, with the long trunk, and the long white teeth, or tusks, sticking out of his mouth. Tum Tum's trainer would sometimes sit on these tusks, or on Tum Tum's trunk, and ride around the ring. Tum Tum liked his keeper, or trainer, very much, just as Mappo liked his own circus man. One day, when Mappo had finished doing his tricks for the day, and had been given a whole, ripe, yellow banana for himself, as a treat for being good and smart, the little monkey wandered off to another part of the circus barn. Mappo, unlike the other monkeys, was not kept in a cage, or chained up. As Mappo was walking along he came underneath a cage, and from over his head came a loud roar. "A lion!" cried Mappo, springing away. "He'll get me!" In the jungle he and his brothers and sisters had been taught to run and hide when a lion roared, and, for the moment, Mappo did just as he had been used to doing in the jungle. Then he sort of laughed to himself, in a way monkeys have, and he said: "Ha! Ha! That lion can't get at me! He is locked in his cage. I'm not afraid." But, just the same, Mappo ran over on the other side of the circus barn, and watched the lion from there. The "King of Beasts," as he is called, though a lion is often no braver that any other animal, paced back and forth in his cage. He peered out between the bars, and tried to break them with his big paws. But he could not. Now and then the lion would utter a deep, loud roar, that seemed to shake the very ground. I suppose he roared as he had done in the jungle, when he wanted to let the other animals know he was coming. A lion must be very proud of his roar. "Well, you can't get me, anyhow," thought Mappo. "You are safe in your cage, and I am glad of it." "Well, how are you to-day, Tum Tum?" asked Mappo, of the jolly elephant. "Tired. Very tired!" exclaimed Tum Tum. "What makes you tired?" asked the monkey. "Doing so many tricks," the elephant answered. "And you know I am a big, heavy chap, and it tires me to run fast around the ring. But never mind, we will soon be out of here, and on a journey." "Where are we going?" asked Mappo. "To travel from town to town, as all circuses do. We shall soon be living in tents," the elephant answered. "I'll like that," said Mappo. "I am getting rather tired of staying here so long." And, surely enough, a few days later, the circus started out "on the road," as it is called. The big red, golden and green wagons were drawn by many horses, and rumbled up hill and down. In the wagons the animals and tents and other things, all of which go to make up a circus, were carried. One day, after a lot of traveling, part of which was by train, Mappo and the other animals came to a place where a big, white tent was set up in a wide, green field. The tent had been set up in the night, ready for the circus. "Ah! Now our real circus work will begin!" said Tum Tum. And so it did. The bands began to play, and when the tent was filled with boys and girls, and their papas and mammas, and grandpas and grandmas, there was a grand procession of all the performers. The elephants, of which Tum Tum was one, also marched around, as did lots of the ponies and dogs. "I wonder when it will come my turn to do tricks?" thought Mappo. His turn soon came. The kind circus man who had taught the little monkey, came and dressed him up in a nice red suit, with a little red cap. Then Prince, the dog, was led in, wearing a fine yellow blanket. "Now for the race!" cried the man, as Mappo jumped up on Prince's back. The other monkeys jumped up on the backs of other dogs, and, as the band played, off they ran. Mappo liked it very much, especially when the children laughed and clapped their hands, for he was glad he had pleased them. Faster and faster went the racing dogs, and Mappo and Prince won. Then came the jumping through the paper hoops, first from the backs of dogs, and, afterward backs of the ponies. In all of these tricks Mappo did very well. [Illustration: He rode around a little wooden platform on the bicycle, holding a flag over his shoulder. (Page 99)] Then Mappo did his other tricks--turning somersaults, standing on his head, and even riding a little bicycle the man had made for him. That was Mappo's best trick, and one that ended his part of the circus. He rode around a little wooden platform on the bicycle, holding a flag over his shoulder, and my! how the children did laugh at that. Mappo did not see all the circus. As soon as his act was over, he was taken back to his cage, but he was not chained up. His keeper knew he could trust Mappo not to run away. Mappo wandered around the animal tent. After a while he came to where the tiger's cage stood. "Ah ha! There you are!" snarled Sharp-Tooth, the striped tiger, as he saw Mappo. "You're the monkey who is to blame for my being here." "I to blame! How?" asked Mappo. "Yes, you are to blame," went on Sharp-Tooth. "You wouldn't open my cage, and let me out when we were in the jungle. Never mind! I'll fix you! When I get out of here--and some day I'm going to break loose--when I get out of here, I'll bite you." "Oh dear!" thought Mappo. "I hope that never happens!" and he went off to talk to Tum Tum, the jolly elephant. For nearly a week the circus traveled from town to town, Mappo doing his tricks very well indeed. Once again Sharp-Tooth, the tiger, said to the monkey chap: "Oh, wait until I get hold of you. I was nearly out of my cage last night. To-night I'll be out for sure, and then I'll fix you!" Poor Mappo was frightened. The more he thought of the tiger getting loose and biting him, the more frightened he became. And that day, as Mappo was riding along in his own cage in the circus wagon, he thought he heard the tiger getting loose from the big cage. "Oh, he'll get me, sure!" cried Mappo. He looked up. The door of his cage was open the least little bit. Mappo pulled it open wider with his paws, and then, when none of the circus men was looking, Mappo slipped out, and dropped down to the road. The door of his cage snapped shut after Mappo got out, keeping the other monkeys in. "I'm going to run away," said Mappo. "I'm not going to stay, and let that bad tiger catch me." And so Mappo ran away. CHAPTER X MAPPO AND SQUINTY Mappo, as soon as he got outside the traveling circus cage on wheels, looked all about him to see if any one were watching him. But no one seemed to be doing so. His man friend, who had trained him to do many tricks, was riding on the seat with the driver of the big monkey-cage wagon, and this man never looked around, as Mappo slipped out. All the other circus men were too busy to look after one monkey. Mappo slipped down to the dusty country road, along which the circus procession was then going, and quickly running across it, the merry little monkey hid in the bushes on the other side. Slowly the big circus wagons rumbled past the place where Mappo was hiding in the bushes. When the cage, in which Sharp-Tooth, the tiger, was pacing up and down, came along, the big striped beast growled and roared, and to Mappo it sounded just as if he were saying: "Where's that monkey? Oh, wait until I get hold of him! He wouldn't let me out of my cage, and I'll fix him!" When the last wagon in, the procession had gone past--and it was the steam piano which brought up at the end--Mappo breathed a long breath. "Now I'm all right!" he thought. "They can't find me now. I'm going over into those woods. Maybe there is a jungle where I can find cocoanuts." Scrambling over rocks, stones and fences, Mappo made his way to the big woods. It looked cool and green there, much better than the hot, dusty road, down which the circus procession was rumbling, with the big red, green and gold wagons. Mappo was much disappointed when he reached the woods. He could not see any cocoanuts or bananas, and those were the things he liked best of all. "I wonder what I shall eat," said Mappo, for he was quite hungry. He ran about, climbing trees, going away up to the top, and hanging down by his tail. He had not had a chance to do this since he had been with the circus, and, really, it was lots of fun for him. Soon he felt hungry again, and he looked around for something to chew. He saw nothing. "Oh dear!" he cried out loud. "I wonder what I can eat." "Ha!" cried a grunting little voice near him, "why don't you eat acorns, as I do?" "What's that? Who are you? Where are you?" asked Mappo, looking up and down. "Here I am, under this bush," the voice went on, and out walked a little pig. "What's your name?" asked Mappo. "My name is Squinty," answered the little pig. I suppose you had guessed that before I told you--at least those of you who have read my other book, called "Squinty, the Comical Pig." "Squinty, eh?" remarked Mappo. "That's a queer name." "They call me that because one of my eyes squints," said the little pig. "See!" and he looked up at Mappo in such a funny way, with one eye half shut, and the other wide open, and with one ear cocked forward and the other backward, that Mappo had to laugh. "My name is Mappo, and I'm from the circus. I've run away, and I'm hungry," the monkey said. "Ha! I'm running away myself," said Squinty, "and I was hungry too, but I found some acorns to eat." "What are acorns, and where did you run from?" asked Mappo. "Acorns are nuts, good for pigs to eat," Squinty answered, "and I ran away from my pen." "I wish I had something to eat," said Mappo. "I am very hungry." "Come with me, and I'll see if I can't find you something to eat," Squinty said. "Then you can tell me all about the circus, and I'll tell you all about my pen." "All right," agreed Mappo, and the two little animal friends went off together into the woods. "Are there any cocoanuts here?" asked Mappo, when they had gone on for some distance. "I don't know," answered Squinty. "What are cocoanuts?" Mappo told the little pig how cocoanuts and bananas grew in the jungle, and the little pig told about how he liked sour milk and things like that. And, after a while, they managed to find some berries for Mappo to eat, as he did not like the acorn nuts. The two friends went on in the woods for some distance, and they were having a good time, telling each other about their adventures, when, all of a sudden, as Mappo was swinging along by his tail on a tree branch, he stopped short and cried: "Ha! They're after me. I guess I'd better run." "Who is after you?" asked Squinty. "The circus men. They must have found out I ran away." Mappo and Squinty looked through the bushes, and they saw a number of men in red coats and blue trousers coming through the woods. Squinty also saw something else. "Oh, look!" cried the little pig. "What is that funny animal with two tails? I'm afraid of him, he's so big!" Mappo looked and laughed. "He hasn't two tails," he said. "One is his tail and the other is his trunk. That is Tum Tum, the circus elephant. And you needn't be afraid of him, for he is the jolliest elephant in the whole show. "But I'm not going to be caught," went on Mappo. "I want to run away farther, and have more adventures. So I guess I'll go before Tum Tum and the men see me. Good-by, Squinty. I'm glad I met you." "And I'm glad that I met you," said the comical little pig. Then he ran one way through the woods, for he did not want to be caught, either, and Mappo ran the other way. On and on through the woods roamed the merry little monkey, and many things happened to him. He met Slicko, the jumping girl squirrel, and in the book about Slicko you may read all about her wonderful adventures. At first Mappo had lots of fun, after running away from the circus. It was warm, and he managed to make himself a little house of leaves, in the woods where he slept nights, or when it rained. But, for all that, he did not have as good things to eat as he had had when he was in his cage. He missed doing his tricks, too, and he missed seeing the boys and girls and their parents, in the big tent. One day, as Mappo was asleep in the woods, he was suddenly awakened by feeling himself caught by two hands, and a voice cried: "Oh, I've caught a monkey. I'm going to take him home and keep him. Oh, a real, live monkey!" Mappo opened his eyes, and he saw that a boy was holding him, and holding him so tightly that the little monkey could not get away. "Well, I'm caught!" thought Mappo, but he was not very sorry. CHAPTER XI MAPPO AND THE ORGAN-MAN Some monkeys, if they had been caught by a boy, in the woods, would have bit and scratched and fought to get away. But Mappo was both a merry monkey, and a good, kind one. So, when he saw that the boy was holding him tightly, Mappo made up his mind that it would not be nice to try to get away. Besides, he liked boys, as well as girls, for so many of them had fed him peanuts in the circus. And I rather think that Mappo was getting tired of having run away, for he did not find these woods as nice as he thought he would. "Oh, father, look!" the boy cried. "I've caught a monkey." "Have you, really?" asked a man, who came up near the boy. "Why, so you have!" he exclaimed. "It must have escaped from the circus that went through here the other day." "Oh, father, mayn't we keep it?" the boy asked, as he patted Mappo. "See, he is real tame, and maybe he does tricks." "Of course I'm tame and do tricks!" Mappo chattered, but the boy did not understand monkey talk. "Oh, let me keep him!" the boy begged of his father. "Well, I don't know," spoke the man, slowly. "A monkey is a queer sort of a pet, and we haven't really any place for him." "Oh, I'll make a place," the boy said. "Do let me keep him!" "Well, you may try," his father said. "But if the circus men come back after him, you'll have to give up your monkey. And he may run away, no matter what sort of a cage you keep him in." "Oh, I don't believe he will," the boy said. So Mappo was taken home to the boy's house. It was quite different from the circus where the merry little monkey had lived so long. There were no sawdust rings, no horses or other animals, and there was no performance in the afternoon, and none in the evening. But, for all that, Mappo liked it. For one thing he got enough to eat, and the things he liked--cocoanuts and bananas, for the boy read in a book what monkeys liked, and got them for his new pet. The boy made a nice box cage for Mappo to sleep in, and tied him fast with a string around the collar, which Mappo wore. "But I could easily loosen that string and get away if I wanted to," Mappo thought as he played with the knot in his odd little fingers. Monkeys can untie most knots, and a chain is about the only thing that will hold them. The boy's mother was afraid of Mappo at first, but the little monkey was so kind and gentle, that she grew to like him. And Mappo was a very good monkey. He did not bite or scratch. The house where the boy lived was quite different from the circus tent, or the big barn where Mappo had first learned to do tricks. There was an upstairs and downstairs to the house, and many windows. Mappo soon learned to go up and down stairs very well indeed, and he liked nothing better than to slide down the banisters. Sometimes he would climb up on the gas chandelier and hang by his tail. This always made the boy laugh. "See, my monkey can do tricks!" he would cry. Then, one day, something sad happened. Mappo was sitting near the dining-room window, which was open, and he was half asleep, for the sun was very warm. The little monkey was dreaming, perhaps of the days when he used to sleep in the tree-house in the jungle, or he may have been thinking of the time when he went with the circus. Suddenly he was awakened by hearing some music. He looked out in the street, and there he saw a hand-organ man grinding away at the crank which made the nice music. Mappo liked it very much. It reminded him a little of the circus music. And, as soon as the hand-organ man saw the monkey, he cried out: "Ha! A monkey! Just what I need. My monkey has gone away, and I'll take this new little monkey to go around with me and get the pennies in his cap." Then, before Mappo knew what was going to happen, the hand-organ man ran up to the open window, grabbed the little monkey off the sill, and, stuffing him under his coat, ran away down the street with him as fast as he could go. "Let me go! Let me out!" chattered Mappo, in his own, queer language. The man paid no attention to him. Perhaps he did not understand what Mappo meant, though hand-organ men ought to know monkey talk, if any one does. At any rate, the man did not let Mappo go. Instead, he carried him on and on through the streets, until he came to the place where he lived. "Now I'll put a chain and a long string on you, and take you around with me when I make music," said the hand-organ man. "You will have a little red cap to take the pennies the children give you." While he was thus talking the man thrust Mappo into a box, that was not very clean, and tossed him a crust of bread. "I wonder if that is all I am to get to eat," thought Mappo. "Oh, dear! I might better have stayed in the circus. It was nice at the boy's house, but it is not nice here." Mappo was shut up in the box, with only a little water, and that one piece of bread crust to eat. And then the hand-organ man went to sleep. Poor Mappo did not like this at all, but what could he do? He was shut up in a box, and try as he did, he could not get out. Some other monkey had lived in the box before. Mappo could tell that, because there were scratches and teeth marks in the wood which Mappo knew must have been made by some such little monkey as himself. Mappo's life from then on, for some time, was rather hard. The next morning the hand-organ man fastened a chain to the collar of the monkey, and a long rope to the chain. "Now I'll teach you to climb up on porch houses, go up the rain-water pipes, and up to windows, to get pennies," said the hand-organ man. "Come, be lively!" He did not-have to teach Mappo very much, for the monkey could already do those things. "Ha! I see you are a trick monkey!" the man said. "So much the better for me. I'll get many pennies from the children." Then, every day, Mappo was made to go out with the man and his hand-organ, and when the man played tunes, Mappo would watch the windows of the houses in front of which his master stopped. The children would come to the windows when they heard the music. "Go up and get the pennies!" the man would cry, and he would pull and jerk on the long string so that the collar around Mappo's neck choked and hurt him. Then the monkey would squeal, and hold the chain with his paw, so the pulling on it would not pain him so much. The hand-organ man was not very kind to Mappo. But Mappo made up his mind he would do his best to please his master. "Some day I may get loose," Mappo thought. "If I do, I'll run back to the circus, and never go away from it again. Oh that circus! And Tum Tum! I wonder if I'll ever see the jolly elephant again." Thinking such thoughts as these, Mappo would climb up the front of the houses, to the windows, scrambling up the rain-water pipe, and he would take off his cap, and catch in it the pennies the children threw to him. Then sometimes, on the porch roof, Mappo would turn a somersault, or play soldier, doing some of his circus tricks. This made the children laugh again, and they would ask their mammas for more pennies. "Ah, he is a fine monkey!" the hand-organ man would say. "He brings me much money." The hand-organ man never let him loose; always was there that chain and string fast to the collar on Mappo's neck. Mappo was made to wear a little red jacket, as well as a cap, and, as the things had been made for a smaller monkey than he, they were rather tight for him. For many weeks Mappo was kept by the hand-organ man, and made to gather pennies. Mappo grew very tired of it. "Oh, if I had only stayed with the circus," thought Mappo, sorrowfully. One morning the hand-organ man got up earlier than usual. "We make much money to-day," he said to Mappo, for he had a habit of speaking to the monkey as though he could understand. And indeed, Mappo knew a great deal of what his master said. "We will make many pennies to-day," went on the man. "Out by the big show, where everybody will be jolly." He brushed Mappo's jacket and cap, and then, after a very little breakfast, out they started. Through street after street they went, but the man did not stop to play in front of any houses. "I wonder why that is," thought Mappo, for his master had never done that before. And then, all of a sudden, Mappo saw a big white tent, with gay flags flying from the poles. He saw the big red, gold and green wagons. He heard the neighing of the horses, the trumpeting of the elephants, the roaring of the lions, and the snarling of the tigers. "Oh, it's the circus! It's my circus!" cried Mappo to himself, and so it was. "Now we make much money!" said the hand-organ man. "The people who come to the circus have many pennies. They give them to me when I play. Come, Mappo, be lively--do tricks and get the pennies," and he shook the string and chain, hurting Mappo's neck. Then the organ began to play. But Mappo did not hear it. He heard only the circus band. And he smelled the sawdust ring. "Oh, I must get back to my dear circus!" he chattered. Then, with one big, strong pull of his paws, Mappo broke the collar around his neck, and, as fast as he could run, he scampered toward the big tent--the tent where he knew his cage was. Oh, how Mappo ran! CHAPTER XII MAPPO AND THE BABY "Come back here! Come back! My monkey! He is running away!" cried the hand-organ man, as he raced after Mappo. Mappo looked behind, and saw his unkind master coming, so the little monkey ran faster than ever. "Oh, if I can only find Tum Tum, the jolly elephant, and get up on his back, that man can never get me again!" thought Mappo. "I must find Tum Tum!" Into the big circus tent ran Mappo. The show had not yet begun, and one of the men who was at the entrance to take tickets seeing Mappo, cried out: "Ha! One of our monkeys must have gotten loose. I will call the animal trainer." So Mappo came back to the circus again. But his adventures were not yet over. That afternoon, when he had been given his own circus suit, which fitted him better than the one the hand-organ man had put on him, Mappo went through his tricks in the big tent. He had not forgotten them. He rode on the back of Prince, the big dog, and also on Trotter, the pony, coming in first in every race. Then Mappo jumped through the paper-covered hoops, he played soldier, and he sat up at the table and ate his dinner with a knife, fork and spoon, almost as nicely as you could have done it. He used his napkin, too. The circus traveled on and on. One day it came to a big city, and some of the tents were set up in a field, near some houses. From his place near his cage Mappo could look out of the crack in the top of the tent, and see the windows of the houses near him. "I used to climb in windows like that," said Mappo to Tum Tum. "I used to go up the rain-water pipe to get the pennies from the children." "It must have been fun for you," said Tum Tum, "as you are such a good climber." "Oh, it wasn't so much fun as you'd imagine," answered Mappo as he slyly tickled another monkey with a straw. Mappo was always up to some trick or other; he was a very merry monkey. It was almost time for the circus performance to start. Mappo was thinking he had better go, and get on his pretty new red, white and blue suit, when suddenly, from outside the tent, he heard the cry of: "Fire! Fire! Fire!" [Illustration: Mappo sat up at the table and eat his dinner with knife, fork and spoon. (Page 119)] Now Mappo knew what a fire was. There used to be a fire in the stove at the big circus barn, and once he went too close and burned his paw. So Mappo knew what fire meant, even though it was cried in some other language than monkey talk. Then Mappo looked out of a crack in the tent, and he saw one of the houses, near the circus grounds, all ablaze. Black smoke was coming from it. "One of those houses is burning," said Mappo to Tum Tum. The monkey had often seen the natives, in his jungle, kindle fires at night to cook their suppers, and also to keep wild beasts away. For wild beasts are afraid of fire. "A house burning, eh?" said Tum Tum. "Well, that is nothing to us. We have to go on with the show, no matter what happens." "I'm going out to see it," spoke Mappo. "I have a little time yet before I must do my tricks." Mappo was not chained, so he had no trouble in slipping under the tent, and in going toward the burning house. There was great excitement. Men, boys, girls and women were running all around. Some of them were carrying things out of the blazing dwelling. Then up came the fire engines, tooting and whistling. Mappo of course did not know what fire engines were. All he cared for was the black smoke, and the bright, red fire. Suddenly a woman in the crowd began to scream. "My baby! Oh, my little baby is up in that room," and she pointed to one on the side of the house which was not yet burning as much as the rest. "Oh, my baby!" she cried, and she tried to run back into the blazing house, but some men stopped her. "The firemen will get your baby," they said. "Oh, they will never be in time!" the woman cried. Just then Mappo's circus trainer came running up. "Oh, here you are!" he cried to Mappo. "I was afraid you had run away again." "No! No!" chattered Mappo, in his own language. Mappo reached up, and put his arms around the keeper's neck. Just then the woman cried again: "My baby! Oh, my baby is left behind in the room, and the stairs are all on fire. How can I get him?" "What, is there a baby in the house?" cried Mappo's trainer. "Yes. In that room where the window is," she said. "Oh, but we can't get him." "Yes, I think we can!" said the circus man. "Mappo, my monkey is very strong, and he is a good climber. There is a rain-water pipe going up the side of the house, close to the window. I'll send my monkey up the pipe, and he can go in through the window, get the baby, and bring it down to you." "Oh, a monkey could never do that!" sobbed the woman. "Yes, my monkey can," the man replied. "Here, Mappo!" he called. "Up you go!" and he pointed to the rain-water pipe on the side of the house. "Go in the window and get the baby--get the little one and bring her safely down." "Yes, yes!" chattered Mappo, only he spoke in his language and the man talked as we talk. But Mappo understood. Many times he had been sent up rain-water pipes by the hand-organ man. Of course this was a bit different, for this house was on fire. But there were not many flames on the side where the pipe was. Mappo sprang for the pipe, and began to climb up it. He did not know exactly what he was going after, but he knew it must be something important, or his master would not be so excited. "Get the baby! Get the baby!" cried the circus man, for the firemen had not yet come up with their ladders. Of course they could have saved the baby, if they had been in time. But it would soon be too late. Up and up the rain-water pipe went the nimble Mappo. In a few seconds he was on the window sill of the room. He stood there, looking down at his master. "Go on in! Get the baby and bring her down!" called the circus man, waving his arms at Mappo. Down into the room jumped Mappo. He knew at once it was a bedroom, for he had been in such rooms in the home of the boy who found him in the woods. And, in a little bed, close to the window, was something that Mappo at first thought was a large doll, such as the sisters of the boy used to play with. "I wonder if this is the baby," said Mappo. "I guess it is. I'll carry it down." The baby was asleep. Mappo took her up in one of his strong hairy arms, and, very luckily he picked her right-side up. Some monkeys would carry a baby upside down, and think nothing of it. But Mappo was different. With the baby held closely, the monkey jumped to the window sill again, and how his master and the others yelled when they saw him! "He has her! Oh, he has your baby!" cried the circus man. Down the rain-pipe came Mappo carrying the little baby, which was just beginning to wake up and cry. Mappo gave the little one to his master, who put the baby in its anxious mother's arms. "There's your child," he said. "Oh, what a smart monkey, to save her!" sobbed the woman, but her tears were tears of joy. Then the firemen put out the fire in the house, and no one was hurt. Mappo choked a little from the smoke, but he did not mind that. "You surely are a smart monkey!" said the circus man, as he took him back to the tent to do his tricks. The show went on after a while, and Mappo was more looked at than any animal, for every one heard how he had saved the baby. And, after the show was over that night, the father of the baby went to the circus man and said: "I want to buy the monkey that saved my little girl. Please sell him to me. We will give him a good home, and we will always love him, for what he did for us." "Well, I don't like to lose such a good trick monkey," said Mappo's master, "but I will let you have him. Be kind to him, for he is a good little chap." "Oh, we'll be very kind to him," the baby's papa promised. "We have a dog named Don, and a cat named Tabby. I am sure Mappo will like them. We will be very good to him." And so Mappo, after having lived in the jungle, and afterward joining a circus, went to live at the home of the baby, after it was built over, for it was badly damaged by the fire. And Mappo made friends with Don and Tabby and had a lovely time. But there are other animals of whose lives I can tell you, and the next book in this series is going to be called "Tum Tum, the Jolly Elephant: His Many Adventures." "Weren't you afraid when you climbed up that rain-water pipe to get the baby?" asked Don the dog of Mappo, one day. "I wasn't afraid of climbing, but I was a little afraid of the fire," said the monkey. "I wish I were as brave as you," said Tabby, the cat. "Come on, let's have a game of tag." And the three animal friends played a game very much like our tag; and now we will say good-by to them. THE END GOOD STORIES FOR CHILDREN (From four to nine years old) THE KNEETIME ANIMAL STORIES By RICHARD BARNUM [Illustration] In all nursery literature animals have played a conspicuous part; and the reason is obvious, for nothing entertains a child more than the antics of an animal. These stories abound in amusing incidents such as children adore, and the characters are so full of life, so appealing to a child's imagination, that none will be satisfied until they have met all of their favorites--Squinty, Slicko, Mappo, and the rest. 1 Squinty, the Comical Pig. 2 Slicko, the Jumping Squirrel. 3 Mappo, the Merry Monkey. 4 Tum Tum, the Jolly Elephant. 5 Don, a Runaway Dog. 6 Dido, the Dancing Bear. 7 Blackie, a Lost Cat. 8 Flop Ear, the Funny Rabbit. 9 Tinkle, the Trick Pony. 10 Lightfoot, the Leaping Goat. 11 Chunky, the Happy Hippo. 12 Sharp Eyes, the Silver Fox. 13 Nero, the Circus Lion. 14 Tamba, the Tame Tiger. 15 Toto, the Rustling Beaver. 16 Shaggo, the Mighty Buffalo. Cloth, Large 12mo., Illustrated. 
17429	----	file was produced from images generously made available by The Kentuckiana Digital Library.) THE STORY OF DAGO BY ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON [Illustration: "IT WAS HER SWINGING AND JERKING ON THE ROPE THAT RANG THE BELL."] THE STORY OF DAGO BY ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON AUTHOR OF "THE LITTLE COLONEL," "BIG BROTHER," "OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT," "THE GATE OF THE GIANT SCISSORS," "TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY," ETC. Illustrated by ETHELDRED B. BARRY BOSTON L.C. PAGE & COMPANY 1900 Copyright, 1900 BY L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY (Incorporated) TO "Gin the Monk" WHOSE PRANKS ARE LINKED WITH THE BOYHOOD MEMORIES OF DR. GAVIN FULTON, ONE OF THE BEST OF PHYSICIANS AND FRIENDS, THIS STORY OF DAGO IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED CONTENTS PAGE I. THIS IS THE STORY THAT DAGO TOLD TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY ON MONDAY 1 II. WHAT DAGO SAID TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY ON TUESDAY 16 III. WHAT THE MIRROR-MONKEY HEARD ON WEDNESDAY 32 IV. THE TALE THE MIRROR-MONKEY HEARD ON THURSDAY 46 V. WHAT DAGO TOLD ON FRIDAY 60 VI. WHAT DAGO SAID TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY ON SATURDAY 72 VII. WHAT DAGO TOLD THE MIRROR-MONKEY ON SUNDAY 92 VIII. DAGO BIDS FAREWELL TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY 102 ILLVSTRATIONS PAGE "IT WAS HER SWINGING AND JERKING ON THE ROPE THAT RANG THE BELL" _Frontispiece_ "THE GARDENER FISHED HER OUT OF THE FOUNTAIN" 9 "HER HANDS WERE FOLDED IN HER LAP" 19 MATCHES'S FUNERAL 25 "SHE FAIRLY STIFFENED WITH HORROR" 43 "AT LAST THE BLUE CUSHION WAS EMPTY, AND I SAT DOWN ON IT" 48 "'OH, YOU LITTLE TORMENT!' SHE CRIED" 63 "THEIR VOICES RANG OUT LUSTILY" 73 "ALL WENT WELL UNTIL WE REACHED AN ALLEY CROSSING" 81 "GOOD-BYE! OLD FELLOW!" 103 THE STORY OF DAGO. CHAPTER I. THIS IS THE STORY THAT DAGO TOLD TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY ON MONDAY. Here I am at last, Ring-tail! The boys have gone to school, thank fortune, and little Elsie has been taken to kindergarten. Everybody in the house thinks that I am safe up-stairs in the little prison of a room that they made for me in the attic. I suppose they never thought how easy it would be for me to swing out of the open window and climb down the lightning-rod. Wouldn't Miss Patricia be surprised if she knew that I am down here now in the parlour, talking to you, and sitting up here among all these costly, breakable things! I have been wanting to get back into this room ever since that first morning that I slipped in and found you sitting here in the looking-glass, but the door has been shut every time that I have tried to come in. Do you remember that morning? You were the first ring-tail monkey that I had seen since I left the Zoo, and you looked so much like my twin brother, who used to swing with me in the tangled vines of my native forests, and pelt me with cocoanut-shells, and chatter to me all day long under those hot, bright skies, that I wanted to put my arms around you and hug you; but the looking-glass was between us. Some day I shall break that glass, and crawl back behind there with you. It is a pity that you are dumb and do not seem to be able to answer me, for if you could talk to me about the old jungle days I would not be so homesick. Still, it is some comfort to know that you are not deaf, and I intend to come in here every morning after the children go to school; that is, every morning that I find the door open. I've had a very exciting life in the past, and I think that you'll find my experiences interesting. Of course I'll not begin at the beginning, for, being a ring-tail monkey yourself, you know what life is like in the great tropical forests. Perhaps it would be better to skip the circus part, too, for it was a very unhappy time that followed, after I was stolen from home by some men who came on a big ship, and carried me away to be sold to a travelling showman. It makes my back ache to this day to think of the ring-master's whip. I was as quick to learn as any of the other monkeys who were in training, but an animal who has done nothing all his life but climb and play can't learn the ways of a human being all in one week. I was taught to ride a pony and drive a team of greyhounds, and to sit at a table and feed myself with a silver folk. One half-hour I was made to be a gentleman, and wear a dress suit, and tip my hat to the ladies, and the next I would be expected to do something entirely different; be a policeman, maybe, and arrest a rowdy dog in boxing-gloves. Oh, I couldn't begin to tell you the things I was expected to do, from drilling like a soldier to wheeling a doll carriage and smoking a pipe. Sometimes when I grew confused, and misunderstood the signals and did things all wrong, the ring-master would swing his whip until it cracked like a pistol, and shout out, in a terrible voice, "Oh, you stupid little beast! What's the matter with you?" That always frightened me so that it gave me the shivers, and then he would shout at me again until I was still more confused and terrified, and couldn't do anything to please him. Stupid little beast indeed! I wished sometimes that I could have had him captive, back in the jungles of the old home forest, just to have seen which would have been the stupid one there. How long would it have taken him to have learned an entirely different way of living, I wonder. How many moons before he could swing by his hands and hunt for his food in the tree-tops? He might have learned after awhile where the wild paw-paws hang thickest, and where the sweetest, plumpest bananas grow; but when would he ever have mastered all the wood-lore of the forest folk,--or gained the quickness of eye and ear and nose that belongs to all the wise, wild creatures? Oh, how I longed to see him at the mercy of our old enemies, the Snake-people! One of those pythons, for instance, "who could slip along the branches as quietly as moss grows." That would have given him a worse fit of shivers than the ones he used to give me. I'll not talk about such a painful subject any longer, but you may be sure that I was glad when something happened to the show. The owner lost all his money, and had to sell his animals and go out of the business. After that I had a very comfortable winter in a zoological garden out West, near where we stranded. Then an old white-haired man from California bought me to add to his private collection of monkeys. He had half a dozen or so in his high-walled garden. It was a beautiful place, hot and sunny like my old home, and full of palm-trees and tangled vines and brilliant flowers. The most beautiful thing in it was a great rose-tree which he called Gold of Ophir. It shook its petals into a splashing fountain where goldfish were always swimming around and around, and it was hard to tell which was the brightest, the falling rose-leaves, or the tiny goldfish flashing by in the sun. There was a lady who used to lie in a hammock under the roses every day and smile at my antics. She was young, I remember, and very pretty, but her face was as white as the marble mermaid in the fountain. The old gentleman and his wife always sat beside her when she lay in the hammock. Sometimes he read aloud, sometimes they talked, and sometimes a long silence would fall upon them, when the splashing of the fountain and the droning of the bees would be the only sound anywhere in the garden. When they talked, it was always of the same thing: the children she had left at home,--Stuart and Phil and little Elsie. I did not listen as closely as I might have done had I known what a difference those children were to make in my life. I little thought that a day was coming when they were to carry me away from the beautiful garden that I had grown to love almost like my old home. But I heard enough to know that they were as mischievous as the day is long, and that they kept their poor old great-aunt Patricia in a woful state of nervous excitement from morning till night. I gathered, besides, that their father was a doctor, away from home much of the time. That was why their great-aunt had them in charge. Their mother had come out to her father's home in California to grow strong and well. The sun burned a pink into the blossoms of the oleander hedges, and the wind blew life into the swaying branches of the pepper-trees, but neither seemed to make her any better. After awhile she could not even be carried out to her place in the hammock. Then they sent for Doctor Tremont and the children. The first that I knew of their arrival, the two boys came whooping down the paths after the gardener, shouting, "Show us the monkeys, David! Show us the monkeys! Which one is Dago, and which one is Matches?" I did not want to come down for fear that Stuart might treat me as he had done Elsie's kitten. I had heard a letter read, which told how he had tried to cure it of fits. He gave it a shock with his father's electric battery, and turned the current on so strong that he killed it. Not knowing but that he might try some trick on me, I held back until I saw him feeding peanuts to Matches. I never could bear her. She is the only monkey in the garden that I have never been on friendly terms with, so I came down at once to get my share of peanuts, and hers, too, if possible. I must say that I took a great fancy to both the boys; they were so friendly and good-natured. They each had round chubby faces, and hard little fists. There was a wide-awake look in their big, honest, gray eyes, and their light hair curled over their heads in little tight rings. Elsie was only five,--a restless, dimpled little bunch of mischief, always getting into trouble, because she would try to do everything that her brothers did. The gardener fished her out of the fountain twice in the week she was there. She was reaching for the goldfish with her fat little hands, and toppled in, head first. Phil began the week by getting a bee-sting on his lip, and a bite on the cheek from a parrot that he was teasing. As for Stuart, I think he had climbed every tree on the place before the first day was over, and torn his best clothes nearly off his back. The gardener had a sorry time of it while they stayed. He complained that "a herd of wild buffalo turned loose to rend and destroy" would not have done as much damage to his fruit and flowers as they. "Not as they means to do it, I don't think," he said. "But they're so chock-full of _go_ that they fair runs away with their selves." The gardener's excitement did not long last, however. [Illustration] There came a day when there was no noise in the garden. The boys wandered around all morning without playing, now and then wiping their eyes on their jacket sleeves, and talking in low tones. Once they threw themselves down on the grass and hid their faces, and cried and sobbed, until their grandfather came out and led them away. The blinds were all drawn next morning, and the gardener came and cut down nearly all his lilies, and great armfuls of the Gold of Ophir roses to carry into the house. Another quiet day went by, and then there was such a rumbling of carriage wheels outside the garden, that I climbed up a tree and looked over the high walls. There was a long, slow procession winding up the white mountain road toward a far-away grove of pines. I knew then what had happened. They were taking the children's mother to the cemetery, and they would have to go home without her. "Poor children," I thought, "and poor old great-aunt Patricia." The next evening I heard the old gentleman tell David to bring Matches and me into the house. The next thing I knew I was dropped into a big bandbox with holes in the lid, and somebody was buckling a shawl-strap around it. Then I heard the old gentleman say to Doctor Tremont, "Tom, I don't want to add to the inconveniences of your journey, but I should like to send these monkeys along to help amuse the boys. Maybe they'll be some comfort to them. Dago is for Stuart, and Matches is for Phil. It would be a good idea to keep them in their boxes to-night on the sleeping-car. They are unusually well behaved little animals, but it would be safer to keep them shut up until the boys are awake to look after them." You can imagine my feelings when I realised that I was to be sent away. I shrieked and chattered with rage, but no one paid any attention to me. I was obliged to settle down in my box in sulky silence. In a little while I could feel myself being carried down the porch steps. Then the carriage door slammed and we jolted along in the dark for a long time. I knew when we reached the depot by the bright light streaming through the holes in my box-lid. I was carried up the steps into the sleeping-car, and for the next quarter of an hour it seemed to me that my box changed position every two minutes. The porter was getting us settled for the night He was about to poke the box that held me under the berth where little Elsie and her nurse were to sleep, when Stuart called him from the berth above, into which he had just climbed. So I was tossed up as if I had been an ordinary piece of baggage, the porter little knowing what was strapped so carefully inside the bandbox. Doctor Tremont and Phil had the section just across the aisle from ours, and Phil carried his box up the step-ladder himself, and stowed Matches carefully away in one corner before he began to take off his shoes. When the curtains were all drawn and the car-lights turned down low so that every one could sleep, Stuart sat up and began unbuckling the strap around my box. I knew enough to keep still when he took the lid off and gently stroked me. I had no intention of being sent back to the baggage-car, if keeping quiet would help me to escape the conductor's eyes. Stuart stroked me for a moment, and then, cautiously drawing aside his curtains, thrust his head out and looked up and down the aisle. Everything was quiet. Then he gave the softest kind of a whistle, so faint that it seemed little more than the echo of one; but Phil heard, and instantly his head was poked out between his curtains. Stuart held me up and grinned. Immediately Phil held up Matches and grinned. After a funny pantomime by which, with many laughable gestures, each boy made the other understand that he intended to allow his pet freedom all night, they drew in their heads and lay down. Stuart wanted me to sleep on the pillow beside him, but I was still sulky, and retired to my box at his feet. In spite of the jar and rumble of the train I slept soundly for a long time. It must have been somewhere about the middle of the night when I was awakened all of a sudden by a fearful crash and the feeling that I was pitching headlong down a frightful precipice. The next instant I struck the floor with a force that nearly stunned me. When I gathered my wits together I found myself in the middle of the aisle, bruised and sore, with the bandbox on top of me. We had been going with the usual terrific speed of a fast express, down steep mountain grades, sweeping around dizzy curves, and now we had come to a sudden stop without reason or warning. It gave the train such a tremendous jar that windows rattled, baggage lurched from the racks, the porter sprawled full-length on the floor as I had done, and more than one head was bumped unmercifully against the hard woodwork of the berths. Everybody sprang up to ask what was the matter. Babies cried and women scolded and men swore. All I could do was to whimper with pain and fright until Stuart came scrambling after me. My shoulder was bruised and my head aching, and no one can imagine my terrible fright at such a rude awakening. If I had not been in the box, I might have saved myself when the crash came, but I was powerless to catch at anything when it went bump over on to the floor. The brakeman and conductor came running in to see what was the matter. Nobody knew why the train had stopped. It was several minutes before they discovered the cause, but I had found out while Stuart was climbing back to bed with me. Swinging by her hands from the bell-rope which ran down the centre of the car, was that miserable little monkey, Matches, making a fool of herself and everybody else. Who but that little imp of mischief would have done such a thing as to get up in the middle of the night and go through a lot of gymnastic exercises on the bell-rope? It was her swinging and jerking on the rope that rang the bell and brought the engine to that sudden stop. I don't know how the doctor settled it with the conductor. I know that there was a great deal said, and Matches and I were both sent back to the baggage-car. All the rest of the journey I had an aching head and a bruised shoulder to keep me in mind of that hateful little Matches, and I resolved long before we reached home that I would do something to get even with her, before we had lived together a week. CHAPTER II. WHAT DAGO SAID TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY ON TUESDAY. Ring-tail, what do you think of Miss Patricia? I'm afraid of her. The night we came home she met us in the hall, looking so tall and severe in her black gown, with those prim little bunches of gray curls on each side of her face, that I went under a chair. Then I thought I must have misjudged her, for there were tears in her eyes when she kissed the children, and I heard her whisper as she turned away, "poor little motherless lambs!" Still I have seen so many people in the course of my travels that I rarely make a mistake in reading character. As soon as she caught sight of me I knew that my first thought had been right. Her thin Roman nose went up in the air, and her sharp eyes glared at me so savagely that I could think of nothing else but an old war eagle, with arrows in its talons. You may have seen them on silver dollars. "Tom Tremont," she exclaimed, "you don't mean to say that you have brought home a _monkey_!" I wish you could have heard the disgust in her voice. "Of all the little pests in the world, they are certainly the worst!" "Yes, Aunt Patricia," he answered. "They've been a great pleasure to the boys." "_They!_" she gasped. "You don't mean to say that there are _two_!" Then she saw Matches climbing up on Phil's shoulder, and words failed her. "Yes; their grandfather gave each of the boys one of his pets. He said that they would be company for them on the way home, and would help divert their thoughts from their great loss. They grieved so, poor little lads." That softened Miss Patricia again, and she said nothing more about our being pests. But when she passed me she drew her skirts aside as if she could not bear to so much as brush against me, and from that hour it has been war to the knife between us. Matches and I were given a little room up in the attic under the eaves, but at first we were rarely there during the day. The boys took us with them wherever they went. We had been there some time before we were left alone long enough for me to do any exploring. It was almost dark when that first chance came. I prowled around the attic awhile. Then I climbed out of the window and swung down by the vines that covered that side of the house, to the shutters of the room below. It happened to be Miss Patricia's room. As I perched on the top of the shutters, leaning over and craning my neck, I could see Miss Patricia sitting there in the dusk beside her open window. Her hands were folded in her lap, and she was rocking gently back and forth in a high-backed rocking-chair, with her eyes closed. I thought it would be a good chance for me to take a peep into her room, so I ventured to swing over and drop down on the window-sill beside her, on all fours. I did it very quietly, so quietly, in fact, that I do not see how she could possibly have been disturbed; yet I give you my word, Ring-tail, that woman shrieked until you could have heard her half a mile. I never was so terrified in all my life. It paralysed me for an instant, and then I sprang up by the vines to the lightning-rod, and streaked up it faster than any lightning ever came down. Once in my room, I shook all the rest of the evening. [Illustration] Matches said that Miss Patricia was probably worse scared than I was, but that's impossible. I never made a sound, and as for her--why, even the cook came running when Miss Patricia began to shriek, and she was in the coal-cellar at the time, and is deaf in one ear. But Matches always disagreed with me in everything, and I was not sorry when we parted company. I'd better tell you about that next. It happened in this way. Stuart came into the room one day with Sim Williams, one of the boys who was always swarming up the stairs to see us. Sim was older than Stuart, and one of those restless, inquiring boys, never satisfied with letting well enough alone. He was always making experiments. This time he wanted to experiment on me with a handful of tobacco,--coax me to eat it, you know, and see what effect it would have. But Stuart objected. He was afraid it might make me sick, and proposed trying it on Phil's monkey first. So they called Matches, and the silly little beast was so pleased and flattered by their attention that she stood up and ate all they gave her. She did not like it, I could see that, but they praised her and coaxed her, and it turned her head. Usually I received the most attention. It did not seem to hurt her any, so Sim offered me some. But I would not take it. I folded my hands, first over my ears and then over my eyes. Then I held them over my mouth. Stuart thought it wonderfully smart of me, and so did Sim, when he found that it was a trick that Stuart's grandfather had taught me. The old man had an ebony paper-weight on his library table, which he called "the three wise monkeys of Japan." They were carved sitting back to back. The first one had its paws folded over its eyes in token that it must never see more than it ought to see, the second covered its ears that it might not hear more than it ought to hear, and the third solemnly held its paws over its mouth, in order that it might never say more than it ought to say. Stuart thought that I had forgotten the trick. He told Sim that it was the only one I knew. I was glad that he had never discovered that I am a trained monkey. If he had known how many tricks I can perform life wouldn't have been worth living. It would have been like an endless circus, with me for the only performer. As it was, I was made to go through that one trick of the wise monkeys of Japan until I was heartily disgusted with it, or with anything else, in fact, that suggested the land of the Mikado. Stuart was in a hurry to show me off to the other fellows, so he caught me up under his arm, and started off to the ball-ground, where most of them were to be found. Matches tried to follow us, but Sim drove her back, and the last I saw of her she was under the table, whimpering. It was a soft little complaining cry she had, almost like the chirp of a sleepy bird, and when she made it her mouth drew up into a pitiful little pucker. I slept in the laundry that night, for it was after dark when we got home, and the boys were not allowed to carry a light up into the attic. Next day, when Stuart took me back to my room, there lay Matches, stretched out on the floor as dead as a mummy. The tobacco had poisoned her. Phil was crying over her as if his heart would break. He didn't know what had killed her, and the boys did not see fit to tell. As for me, I remembered my lesson, never to say any more than I ought to say, and discreetly folded my hands over my mouth whenever the subject was mentioned. I have no doubt but that I could have eaten as much tobacco as Matches did, and escaped with only a short illness, but the sickly little mossback didn't have the constitution that we ring-tails have. She was a poor delicate creature that the least thing affected. I couldn't help feeling sorry for her, and yet I was so glad to be rid of her that I capered around for sheer joy. When I realised that never again would I be kept awake by her snoring, never again would I be disturbed by her disagreeable ways, and that at last I was even with her for spilling me out of my berth on the sleeping-car, I swung on my turning-pole until I was dizzy. No one knew what a jubilee I had all alone that night in my little room under the eaves. Little did I dream of the humiliation in store for me. The next day I found that Matches was to have a funeral after school, and that I--I, who hated her--was to take the part of chief mourner. The boys took off my spangled jacket and dressed me up in some clothes that belonged to Elsie's big Paris doll. They left my own little cap on my head, but covered it and me all over with a long crape veil that dragged on the ground behind me and tripped me up in front when I tried to walk. It was pinned tightly over my face, and I nearly smothered, for it was a hot September afternoon. I sputtered and gasped under the nasty black thing until I was almost choked. It was so thick I could scarcely breathe through it, but the more I sputtered the more it pleased the children. They said I seemed to be really crying and sobbing under my veil, and that I was acting my part of chief mourner beautifully. All the children of the neighbourhood came to the funeral. There was a band to lead the procession; a band of three boys, playing on a French harp, a jew's-harp, and a drum. Johnny Grey's Newfoundland dog was hitched to the little wagon that held Matches's coffin. Phil drove, sitting up solemnly in his father's best high silk hat with its band of crape. It was much too large for his head, and slipped down over his curls until the brim rested on the tips of his ears. It was serious business for Phil. His eyes were red and his dirty face streaked with tears. He had grown to be very fond of Matches. Elsie and I followed on a tricycle. She had borrowed an old-fashioned scoop bonnet and a black silk apron from one of the neighbours. I sat beside her, feeling very hot and uncomfortable in the crape veil in which I was pinned. The others walked behind us, two by two, in a long procession. We went five times around the circle, while Sim Williams, on the wood-shed roof, tolled a big auction bell, which he had borrowed for the occasion. [Illustration: MATCHES'S FUNERAL.] When it was all over and the little mound over Matches's grave had been covered with sod, the children were loath to stop playing funeral. They had enjoyed it so much. Somebody said that we ought to march down the street so that people could see how funny I looked in my crape veil; but I could stand it no longer. When I saw that the band was really moving toward the gate, and that Stuart was about to lift me into the wagon that had carried Matches's coffin, I shrieked with rage and bit and tore at my veil until I was soon free. In about a minute it was nothing but a heap of rags and tatters, and Phil and Stuart were looking at it and then at each other with troubled faces. "It's Aunt Patricia's!" one of them gasped. "And it is all torn to bits! Oh, Dago, you little mischief, how _could_ you? Now we'll catch it!" As if it were my fault. I don't know what happened when the veil was taken back. Luckily I had no share in that part of it, although Miss Patricia seemed to add that to the long list of grievances she had against me, and her manner toward me grew even more severe than before. The excitement of the funeral seemed to make Phil forget the loss of Matches that day, but he cried next morning when Stuart came down with me on his shoulder, and there was no frisky little pet for him to fondle and feed. How he could grieve for her is more than I could understand. I didn't miss her,--I was glad she was gone. Every day Phil put fresh flowers on her grave. Sometimes it was only a stiff red coxcomb or a little stemless geranium that had escaped the early frost. Sometimes it was only a handful of bright grasses gone to seed. The doctor's neglected garden flaunted few blooms this autumn, but the little fellow, grieving long and sorely, did all he could to show respect to Matches's memory. One day, nearly a month later, he went crying into his father's office, saying that Matches was gone. Stuart and Sim Williams had dug her up and sold her skeleton to a naturalist in the next block for fifty cents. He had just heard of it. I never saw a child so excited. He was sobbing so hard that he could not breathe except in great choking gasps, and it was some time before his father could quiet him enough to understand what he was talking about. Oh, but Doctor Tremont was angry! And yet it did not sound so bad when Stuart had explained it. He hadn't thought that he was doing anything dishonest or unkind to Phil. He only thought what an easy way it would be to make fifty cents. He didn't see how it could make any difference to Phil, so long as he never found it out, and Sim had sworn not to tell. The mound would still be there, and he could go on putting flowers on it just the same. Sim was the one who had first spoken of it, and Sim had half the money. I was not in the room all of the time, so I cannot tell what passed between Stuart and his father. I could hear the doctor's voice for a long time, talking in low, deep tones, very earnestly. I know he said something about Phil's being such a little fellow, and how the mother who had gone away would have been grieved to know that he was so unhappy. What he said must have hurt Stuart more than a whipping, for when he came out his eyes were red, and he looked as solemn as an owl. He had promised his father several things. One was that he would have nothing more to do with Sim Williams, who was always leading him into trouble, and another was that he would beg Phil's pardon, and do something to make up for the injury he had done him. Stuart thought and thought a long time what that should be. I know the doctor's talk must have gone deep, for by and by he took _me_,--_Dago_,--his best-beloved possession, and gave me to Phil. At first the little fellow couldn't believe it. "Oh, brother!" he cried. "Do you really mean it? Is it for keeps?" "Yes, it's for keeps," said Stuart, grimly. Then he put his hands in his pockets and walked away, whistling, although there were tears in his eyes. But Phil ran after him with me in his arms. "Oh, I couldn't take _all_ of him, Stuart," he said. "You are too good. That would be too much, when you are so fond of him. But I'd love to own half of him. Let's go partnerships. You claim half, and I'll claim half." Well, they decided to settle it that way, after a great deal of talking. You can't imagine, Ring-tail, how queer it makes me feel to be divided up in such a fashion. Sometimes I puzzle over it until I am dizzy. Which of me belongs to Stuart, and which of me belongs to Phil? CHAPTER III. WHAT THE MIRROR-MONKEY HEARD ON WEDNESDAY. Do you see any gray hairs in my fur, Ring-tail, or any new wrinkles in my face? Life in this family is such a wear and tear on the nerves that I feel that I am growing old fast. So much happens every day. Something is always happening here. Really, I have had more exciting experiences in one short forenoon, here in this house, than I used to have in a whole month in the Zoo. It is bad for me to be in such a state of constant fright. The day after I was divided between Phil and Stuart, the boys of the neighbourhood had a Cuban war in our back yard. At least they started to have one,--built a camp-fire and put up a tent and got their ammunition ready. Each side made a great pile of soft mud-balls, and it was agreed that as soon as a soldier was hit and spotted by the moist clinging stuff he was to be counted dead. You see the sport was not dangerous, only dirty. Stuart had his coat off, rolling mud-balls with all his might and main. He was plastered with mud to his elbows, and his face was a sight. Phil was busy sweeping up dead leaves for the camp-fire. Suddenly he dropped his old broom and went trotting off toward the house. "I am going to get something that will make it sound like a real war," he said to me as he left. The boys did not hear him, and he came back presently, with his little blue blouse all pouched out in front with the things he had stuffed inside of it. I followed him into the tent and watched him unload. First there was the old powder-horn that always hangs over the hall mantelpiece. Then there was a big, wide-necked bottle, a large, clean handkerchief, and a spool of thread. "You see this, Dago?" he said to me. "Now you watch and see what happens." He tore the hem off the handkerchief, poured a lot of powder into the middle of the square that was left, and then drew the corners together in one hand. With the other hand he squeezed the powder into a ball in the middle of the handkerchief, and wrapped the thread around and around above it to keep the wad in place. "Now I'll put the wad of powder into the bottle," he said, "and leave the ends of the cloth sticking out for a fuse. See?" I didn't know anything about gunpowder then, so I put my head close to his as he squatted there in the tent, talking as he worked. "Come on, Dago," he said, when it was ready, "I'll light this at the camp-fire and hold the bottle straight out in the air, so it won't hurt anything. It'll go off like a pistol--bim!--and make the boys jump out of their boots." I thought it would be better for me to get out of the way if a racket like that was coming, so I scuttled up to the top of the tent-pole. Phil stooped down by the bonfire, held the rag to the coals until it began to smoulder, and swung around to point it at the fence. There was no sound. Evidently the bottle did not make as good a pistol as he thought it would. "The light's gone out," he muttered, bringing the bottle cautiously around to look at it. Then he blew it, either to see if he could rekindle it, or to make sure that the last spark was out,--I could not tell. The next instant there was a puff, a flash, and then, jungles of my ancestors! such a noise and such screams and such a smell of burning powder! After that I could see nothing but a tangled mass of boys, all legs and elbows, crowding around poor little Phil to see what had happened. If war is like that, then my voice and vote are henceforth for peace, and peace alone. It's awful! They carried him up-stairs, and his father was sent for, and the neighbours came running in as soon as the boys had scampered home with the news. For awhile it seemed to me that the whole world was topsy-turvy. Miss Patricia was so frightened she couldn't do a thing. I really pitied her, for her hands trembled and her voice shook, and even the little bunches of gray curls bobbed up and down against her pale cheeks. I have had the shivers so often that I can sympathise with any one whose nerves are unstrung from fright. The doctor turned us all out of the room, and I waited with the boys out by the alley-gate until he came down-stairs and told us how badly Phil was burned. His front hair and eyebrows and beautiful long curly lashes were singed off, and his face was so full of powder that it was as speckled as a turkey egg. The grains would have to be picked out one by one,--a slow and painful proceeding. The doctor could not tell how badly his eyes were hurt until next day, but thought he would have to lie in a dark room for a week at least, with his eyelids covered with cotton that had been dipped in some soothing kind of medicine. But that week went by, and many a long tiresome day besides, before Phil could use his eyes again. They would not let me go into the room that first day, but after Phil had gone to sleep I hid under a chair in the upper hall, where Miss Patricia and the doctor were talking. "Tom," said Miss Patricia, "what do you suppose made that child do such a reckless thing? Sometimes I think that boys are like monkeys, and are possessed by the same spirit of mischief. Neither seem satisfied unless they are playing tricks or making some kind of a disturbance. They are always getting into trouble." "Yes, it does seem so," answered the doctor, "but if we could look down to the bottom of a boy's heart, we would find that very little of the mischief that he gets into is planned for the purpose of making trouble. He does things from a pure love of fun, or from some sudden impulse, and because he never stops to think of what it may lead to. Phil never stopped to think any more than Dago would have done, what would be the result of setting fire to the powder. You must remember that he is a very little fellow, Aunt Patricia. He is only eight. We shouldn't expect him to have the reasoning powers of a man, and the caution and judgment that come with age." Now I thought that that was a very sensible speech. It seemed to excuse some of my own past mistakes. But Miss Patricia put on her old war-eagle look. "Really, Tom," she said, "that sounds very well, but it is not what was taught in my day. A wholesome use of the rod after the first act of disobedience helps boys to stop and think before committing the second. It is a great developer of judgment, in my opinion. If you had punished Phil the first time he took down his grandfather's powder-horn after you had forbidden him to touch it, he would never have taken it down the second time, and so would have been spared all this suffering to-day." "I know you are right, Aunt Patricia," said the doctor, "but I seem to remember my own boyhood so clearly, the way I thought and felt and looked at things, that I have a very warm sympathy for my little lads when they go wrong." Miss Patricia rose to go down and prepare the lemon jelly that Phil had asked for, saying, as she moved toward the stairs: "Well, I love Phil and Stuart dearly. I'm devoted to them, and willing to do anything in my power for their comfort, but I'm free to confess that I don't understand them. I never did understand boys." Then she tripped over me as I nearly upset us both in my frantic efforts to get out of her way. "Or monkeys either," she added, shaking her skirts at me with a displeased "_Shoo_," as if I had been a silly old hen. It was very quiet about the house for a few days, and then some jolly times began in Phil's room. As soon as the boys were allowed to visit him I showed them some of my tricks, and kept them in roars of laughter. I wheeled little Elsie's doll carriage around the room, and I sat up with the doctor's pipe in my mouth, I drilled and danced, and performed as if I had been on a stage. It was wonderful to them, for they had never guessed how much I knew. One day I sat down in a little rocking-chair with a kitten in my arms, and rocked and hugged it as if it had been a baby. It wasn't breathing when I stopped. The boys said I hugged it too hard, but they kept on bringing me something to rock every day, until five kittens and a rabbit had been put to sleep so soundly that they wouldn't wake up. One day Phil was moved into Miss Patricia's room while his own was being cleaned. Of course no boys were allowed to go in there with him except Stuart. They had a good time, for Miss Patricia told them stories and showed them the curious things in her cabinet and gave them sugar-plums out of the big, blue china dragon that always stands on top of it. But I could see that she was not enjoying their visit. She was afraid that Stuart's rockers would bump against her handsome old mahogany furniture, or that they would scratch it in some way, or break some of her fine vases and jardinières. After awhile she was called down to the parlour to receive a guest, and there was nothing to amuse the boys. Time dragged so heavily that Phil begged Stuart to bring his little rubber-gun--gumbo-shooter he called it. It was a wide rubber band fastened at each end to the tips of a forked stick shaped like a big Y. They used buckshot to shoot with, nipping up a shot in the middle of the band with thumb and finger, and drawing it back as far as possible before letting it fly. There was a fire in the grate, so they were comfortably warm even when they opened the window to take turns in shooting at the red berries on the vine just outside. It was as much as Phil could do, lying on the sofa, to send a buckshot through the open window without hitting the panes above, but Stuart cut a berry neatly from the vine at each trial. Soon he began to boast of his skill, and aimed his sling at an ancient portrait over the mantel. It was of a dignified old gentleman in a black stock and powdered wig. He had keen, eagle eyes like Miss Patricia, which seemed to follow one all around the room. "I bet I could hit that picture square in the apple of its eye," he bragged, "right in its eye-ball,--bim!" "Oh, don't try!" begged Phil. "It's our great-great-grandfather, and Aunt Patricia thinks a lot of that picture." "'Course I wouldn't do it," answered Stuart, taking another aim, "but I could, just as easy as nothing." Still dallying with temptation, he pointed again at the frowning eye and drew the rubber slowly back. All of a sudden, zip! The buckshot seemed to leap from the rubber of its own accord, and Stuart fell back, frightened by what he had done. A round black hole the size of the buckshot gaped in the middle of the old-ancestor's eye-ball, as clean cut as if it had been made with a punch. It gave it the queerest, wickedest stare you can imagine. It was the first thing one would notice on looking about the room. Stuart was white about the mouth. "Oh, dear," sighed Phil, half crying, "if Aunt Patricia was only like the wise monkeys of Japan, then she wouldn't notice." "But she will," said Stuart; "she always sees everything." Phil had given me an idea. As soon as I heard Miss Patricia's silk skirts coming slowly through the hall with their soft swish, swish, I ran and sat in the doorway with my hands over my eyes, in token that there was something that she ought not to look at. It should have amused her, for she knew the story of the ebony paper-weight, but instead it seemed to arouse her suspicion that something was wrong. She looked at the boys' miserable faces and then all around the room, very slowly. It was so still that you could have heard a pin drop. At last she looked up at the picture. Then she fairly stiffened with horror. She couldn't find a word for a moment, and Stuart cried out, "Oh, Aunt Patricia, I'm _so_ sorry. It was an accident. I didn't _mean_ to do it, truly I didn't!" [Illustration: "SHE FAIRLY STIFFENED WITH HORROR."] There's no use harrowing up your feelings, Ring-tail, repeating all that was said. Miss Patricia simply couldn't believe that the shot could have struck dead centre unless the eye had been deliberately aimed at, and she thought something was wrong with a boy who would even take aim at his great-great-grandfather's eyeball. Stuart was sent from the room in disgrace to report to his father, and the last I saw of Miss Patricia that day, she was looking up at the portrait, and saying, with a mournful shake of her gray curls: "How can they do such things? I must confess that I don't understand boys!" CHAPTER IV. THE TALE THE MIRROR-MONKEY HEARD ON THURSDAY. The day that Phil was able to go back to school was an unlucky one for me. It was so dolefully quiet everywhere. After he had gone, I slipped down-stairs on the banister, but the blinds were drawn in the parlour and dining-room, and it was so still that the only sound to be heard was the slow ticking of the great clock in the hall. When it gave a loud br-r-r and began to strike, I was so startled by the sudden noise that I nearly lost my balance and turned a somersault over the railing. Then I saw Miss Patricia pass through the hall with her bonnet on, going out for a morning walk, and I thought it would be a fine time for me to explore her room. It is full of interesting things that I had never been permitted to touch, for when the boys were allowed to take me into Miss Patricia's room, it was always on condition that I should be made to play little Jack Horner and sit in some corner under a chair or table. So as soon as the door closed behind her I hurried up-stairs to her room. I had the best time that morning. There were all sorts of little bottles on her wash-stand with good-smelling stuff in them. I pulled out the corks and emptied some of the bottles into the bowl to make that smell good, too. Then I washed my teeth with her little silver-handled toothbrush, just as Phil does every morning, and put the sponges to soak in the water-pitcher. After awhile I found the cut-glass vinaigrette that Miss Patricia carries around with her. I have seen her use it a hundred times at least, tipping back the silver lid, taking out the little glass stopper, and holding it to her nose with the remark that she never smelled more refreshing salts. I have wanted very much to try it myself. So now that I had the chance I did just as she does,--tipped back the lid, pulled out the stopper, and took a long, deep smell. Whew! It almost upset me. I thought it must be fire and brimstone that she had bottled up in there. It brought the tears to my eyes, and took my breath for a minute so I had to sit and gasp. Then I dropped the vinaigrette in the slop-jar and jumped down from the wash-stand. [Illustration: I sat down on the pincushion.] Her high, old-fashioned bureau tempted me next. There were rows and rows of pins in a big blue pincushion, put in as evenly as if it had been done by a machine. I pulled them out, one by one, and dropped them down behind the bureau. It took some time to do that, but at last the blue cushion was empty, and I sat down on it to examine the jewel-case at my leisure. I found the prettiest things in it; an open-faced locket, set around with pearls, with the picture of a beautiful young girl in it; a string of bright coral beads, and a little carnelian ring, and a gold dollar hung on a faded ribbon. I forgot to tell you that Miss Patricia's bay window is full of flowers, and that she has a mocking-bird hanging in a cage above the wire stand that holds her ferns and foliage plants. The mocking-bird's name is Dick. Now Dick hadn't paid any attention to me until I opened the jewel-case. As I did so I knocked a hairbrush off the bureau to the floor, which must have frightened him, for he began to cry out as if something had caught hold of him. Then he whistled, as if he were calling a dog. You have no idea what a racket he made. I was afraid that some of the servants might hear him and come to see what was the matter. Then, of course, I would be turned out of the room before I had finished examining all the pretty things. I turned around and shook my fist at him and chattered at him as savagely as I knew how, but he kept on, first making that hoarse cry and then whistling as if calling to a dog. I determined to stop him in some way or another, so, not waiting to put down the gold dollar or the little carnelian ring, which were tightly clenched in one hand, I sprang down from the bureau. Running up the wire flower-stand below the cage, I shook my fist directly under his beak. It only made him noisier than ever, and he flew about the cage like something crazy. "Be still, won't you? you silly thing!" I shrieked, and in my desperation I made a grab through the bars at his tail-feathers. A whole handful came out, and that seemed to make him wilder than before. He beat himself against the top of the cage and screamed so loud that I thought it would be better to leave before any one heard him and came in. So I jumped across to the cabinet near the window, where the big blue dragon sat. Then I remembered the sugar-plums inside and stopped for just one taste. I lifted off the dragon's ugly head and was reaching my hand down inside for one of those delicious sweetmeats, when in walked Miss Patricia. My! I was scared! I hadn't expected her back so soon. I dropped the dragon's old blue head on the floor and was out of the window like a shot. There was a cedar-tree reaching up past the window, and I ran out on one of the limbs and hid myself among its thick branches. I could see her but she couldn't see me. She walked all around the room, and looked at the wash-stand and the bureau and at Dick's tail-feathers scattered among the window-plants and then at the blue dragon's head, smashed all to bits on the floor. Then she picked up the locket, lying face downwards on the rug, and began searching for the other things that had been in the jewel-case. I suppose it was the carnelian ring and the gold dollar with the hole in it that she missed. I opened my hand, remembering that I had had them when I went to hush up that noisy mocking-bird. I must have dropped them when I jumped from the window into the cedar-tree. While I was hanging over the limb, peering down to see if I could catch a glimpse of them on the ground below, the housemaid, Nora, came into the room in answer to Miss Patricia's ring. A few minutes after, Doctor Tremont followed. Nora and the doctor walked around and around the room, looking at everything, as Miss Patricia had done, and hunting for the things that were missing, but Miss Patricia sat down in a high-backed chair against the wall, and cried. "I cannot stand it any longer," she sobbed. Her old face was quivering, there was a bright red spot on each cheek, and her side-curls were trembling with excitement. "I have put up with that little beast until I can endure it no longer. Patience has ceased to be a virtue. Either it must go, or I shall. Look at Dick! His heart is beating itself almost out of his poor little body, he is so frightened. And there's that china dragon, that has been a family heirloom for generations,--all broken! And my precious little keepsakes, that I have cherished since childhood, all scattered or lost! Oh, Tom, you do not know how cruelly it hurts me!" I felt sorry, then. I wanted to cry out, as Stuart had done when he shot his great-great-grandfather's portrait, "Oh, Aunt Patricia, I'm _so_ sorry! It was an accident. I didn't mean to do it, truly I didn't mean to!" But she couldn't understand monkey language, and man's speech has been denied us, so I only hugged the limb closer and watched in silence. I stayed in that tree all day. The boys came home from school, and called and called me, but I kept as still as a mouse. It was not until long after dark that I crawled up the lightning-rod and slipped through the window into my room in the attic. Phil found me there the next morning when he began his search again. He squeezed me until I ached, he was so glad to see me. Then he and Elsie brought me my breakfast and sat on the floor, half crying as they watched me eat, for the order had gone forth that I must be sent away. The doctor could forgive his boys when they did wrong, but he couldn't make any allowance for me. "I think it's too bad that we have to give up the very nicest pet we ever had, just because Aunt Patricia don't like him," exclaimed Phil, mournfully. "Dago didn't do much mischief that can't be mended. Carnelian rings are as cheap as anything. Nora said so. It would be easy enough to get her another one as good as the one Dago lost, and I'd be only too glad to give her my big silver dollar in place of the gold one. That would be better than the one she had before, for mine hasn't any hole in it. Dick's tail-feathers will grow out again, and everything could be fixed as good as new except the old blue dragon, and he was too ugly to make a fuss about, anyhow!" "He always had good sugar-plums in him, though," said little Elsie, who had had her full share of them, and who had so many sweet memories of the dragon that she looked upon it as a friend. "I don't care! I love Dago a thousand times more than she could possibly love an old piece of china or a gold dollar with a hole in it. I wouldn't take a hundred dollars for Dago, and Aunt Patricia is a mean old thing to make papa say that we have to give him up. I wished I dared tell her so. I should like to stand outside her door and holler at the top of my voice: "Old Aunt Pat You're mean as a rat!" "Why, Philip Tremont!" cried Elsie, in a shocked voice. "Something awful will happen to you if you talk that way. She isn't just your aunt, she's your great-aunt, too, in the bargain, and she's an old, old lady." "Well, I would!" insisted Phil. "I don't care what you say." Just then a faint sound of music, far-away down the street, but steadily coming nearer, floated up the attic stairs. The children ran to the window to listen, hanging recklessly out over the sill. "It's a grind-organ man!" cried Elsie, "and he's got a monkey." "I wonder how Dago would act if he were to see one of his own family," said Phil. "Come on, let's take him down and see." He grabbed me up excitedly, regardless of the fact that I had not finished my breakfast, and was still clinging to a half-eaten banana. Tucking me under his arm, he went clattering down the steep attic stairs, calling Elsie to follow. Running across the upper hall, he slid down the banister of the next flight of stairs, that being the quickest way to reach the front door and the street. Elsie was close behind. She slid down the banister after him, her chubby legs held stiffly out at each side, and the buttons on her jacket making a long zigzag scratch under her, as she shot down the dark, polished rail. A crowd of children had stopped on the curbstone in front of the house, shivering a little in the pale autumn sunshine, but laughing and pushing each other as they gathered closer around the man with the hand-organ. As the wheezy notes were ground out, the man unwound the rope that was coiled around his wrist, and bade the monkey at the other end of it step out and dance. "Come on, Dago! Come shake hands with the other monkey!" the children cried. But I shrank back as far as possible, clinging to Phil's neck. Not for a fortune would I have touched the miserable little animal crouching on the organ. She might have been Matches's own sister, from her resemblance to her. She belonged to the same species, I am sure, and whenever they held me near her I shrieked and scolded so fiercely that Phil finally said that I shouldn't be teased. The man who held the string was a hard master. One could plainly see that. He had a dark, cruel face, and he jerked the rope and swore at her in Italian whenever she stopped dancing, which she did every few seconds. He had started on his rounds early, in order to attract as many children as possible before school-time, and I doubt if the poor little thing had had any breakfast. She was sick besides. She would dance a few steps and then cower down and tremble, and look at him so appealingly, that only a brute could have had the heart to strike her as he did. When he found that all his jerking was in vain, he gave her several hard blows with the other end of the rope. At that she staggered up and began to dance again, but it was not long until she was huddled down on the curbstone as before, shaking as if with a chill. Oh, how I wished that I could be a human being for a few minutes! A big strong man with a rope in my hands, and that fellow tied to one end of it. Wouldn't I make him dance? Wouldn't I jerk him and scold him and beat him, and give him a taste of how it feels to be a helpless animal, sick and suffering, in the power of a great ugly brute like himself? Maybe he would not have been so rough if he had known that any one besides the children was looking on. He did not see the gentleman standing at the open front door across the street, watching him with a frown on his face. He did not see him, as I did, walk back into the hall and turn the crank of an alarm-signal. But in less than two minutes, it seemed to me, that same gentleman was coming across the street with the policeman he had summoned. A few words passed between them, and almost before the children knew what was happening, the policeman had the organ-grinder by the arm, and was marching him off down the street. The gentleman who had caused the arrest followed with the poor trembling monkey. "That's the president of the society for preventin' you bein' cruel to animals," explained one of the larger boys to the crowd of children. "You dasn't hurt a fly when he is around. Lucky for the monk that the man happened to stop in front of his house this mornin'. Come on, lets see what they do with it." The children trooped off after him, and Phil and Elsie watched them down the street until they were out of sight, pushing and tripping at each other's heels in their eagerness to follow. Then Phil climbed up on one of the gate-posts with me in his arms, and Elsie promptly scrambled up to the other. "That's what might happen to Dago any day, sister," Phil said, in a solemn voice, as he hugged me tight. If we give him up, some old organ-grinder may get him, and beat him and beat him, and be cruel to him, and I'm just not going to let anybody have him. I'll hide him somewhere so nobody can find him." "Trouble is he won't stay hid," answered Elsie, with a mournful look in her big blue eyes. "We'll have to think of some other plan." It was a cold morning, but there they perched on the gate-posts, and thought and thought until the school-bell began to ring. CHAPTER V. WHAT DAGO TOLD ON FRIDAY. Before the bell stopped ringing, some one called Elsie to the house to get ready for kindergarten, and Phil ran down to the stable with me. He tied me to an iron ring in one of the stalls by a halter. Of course any knot that a boy of that size could tie would not keep me a prisoner very long. By the time he was halfway to school I was free and on my way back to the house. I stayed in the laundry nearly all day, for the sun went under a cloud soon after breakfast, and a cold drizzling rain began to fall. It gave me the rheumatism, and I was glad to curl up in a big market-basket on the shelf behind the stove, and enjoy the heat of the roaring fire. Nora was ironing, and singing as she worked. Not since I left the warm California garden had I been as peaceful and as comfortable. The heat made me so drowsy that not even the thump, bump of Nora's iron on the ironing-board, or the sound of her shrill singing could keep me awake. I dreamed and dozed, and dozed and dreamed all day, in a blissful state of contentment. It was nearly dark when I roused up enough to stretch myself and step out of the basket. Nora had gone up-stairs and was setting the supper-table. I could hear the cook beating eggs in the pantry. There would be muffins for supper. The sound made me so hungry that I slipped into the dining-room, and hid under the sideboard until Nora had finished her work and gone back to the kitchen. The cook was still mixing muffin batter in the pantry. I could hear her spoon click against the crock as she stirred it, so that I knew she would not be in to disturb me for some time. I never saw a table more inviting. After I had leaped up on it, I sat and looked all around a moment, trying to decide what to take first. Everything was so good. There wasn't much room to walk about, and when I stepped over the jelly to reach the cheese, which seemed to tempt my appetite more than anything, my long tail switched the roses out of the bowl in the middle of the table. That confused me slightly, and in trying not to upset anything else I stepped flat into the butter, and dragged my little plaid flannel skirt through the applesauce. Why they persist in dressing me in this ridiculous fashion is more than I can understand. You may be sure that I would have starved a week rather than have climbed on that table, if I had had the slightest foreboding of what was to follow. But how could I know that Miss Patricia was to choose that very moment for walking into the dining-room? She had just come in from the street, for she had on her bonnet, and carried an umbrella in her hand. Phil and little Elsie followed her. "Oh, you little torment!" she cried, when she saw me, and, before I could make up my mind which way to jump, she flew at me with her umbrella, trying to strike me without breaking any of the dishes. I dodged this way and that. Seeing no way of escape from the room, I ran up the curtains, over and under the chairs, around and around,--anywhere to keep out of her way. She was after me at every step. When I ran up to the top of the high, carved back of the old-fashioned sideboard, I found myself out of her reach for one breathless minute. She was climbing on a chair after me, when the cook, hearing the unusual sounds, opened the pantry door and looked in. [Illustration: "'OH, YOU LITTLE TORMENT!' SHE CRIED."] It was my only chance of escape, and, regardless of where I might land, I leaped wildly out. I escaped Miss Patricia's umbrella, it is true, but, just my luck, I went bump into the cook's face, and then into the crock of muffin batter which she held in her arms. She dropped us both with a scream which brought everybody in the house hurrying to the dining-room, and I scuttled up to the highest shelf of the pantry, where I crouched trembling, behind some spice-boxes. I was dripping with cold muffin batter, and more miserable and frightened than I had ever been before in my whole life. I could hear excited voices in the dining-room. When Miss Patricia first struck me with the umbrella, Phil had cried out: "Stop that! You stop hitting my monkey!" Then as she chased me around the room, making vain attempts to reach me as I scampered over chairs and up curtains, he seemed to grow wild with rage. He was fairly beside himself and bristled up like an angry little fighting-cock. "You're a mean old thing," he shrieked, breaking over all bounds of respect, and screaming out his words so loud that his father, passing through the hall, heard the impudent rhyme he had made up the day before: "Old Aunt Pat, You're mean as a rat!" It was just as he yelled this that the cook opened the pantry door, and I made my fatal plunge into the dark and the crock of muffin batter. As I hid behind the spice-boxes I heard Doctor Tremont tell Phil, in a very stern voice, to march up-stairs, and stay there until he came for him. It must have been nearly an hour that I hid on that shelf, waiting for a chance to make my escape. The batter began to harden and cake on me until I could not move without every hair on my body pulling painfully. Things were set to rights in the dining-room after awhile and the family had supper. Some bread and milk were sent up to Phil. Soon after I reached the laundry, Stuart found me there. He turned the hose on me and gave me a rough scrubbing. Then he wrapped me in a piece of a blanket and took me up-stairs to dry before the fire in his room. Phil had gone to bed, and was lying there sobbing, with his head under the pillows when we came in. He wouldn't talk at first, but after awhile he told Stuart that his father had given him a hard whipping for speaking so disrespectfully to an old lady like Miss Patricia, and that he could not go to the table again until he had asked her pardon. That Phil vowed he would not do so long as he lived. He had made up his mind to run away in the morning. Nobody treated him right, and he didn't intend to stand it any longer. "But, Phil," said Stuart, "you know yourself, that it wasn't very nice of Dago to go walking around the table through the butter and applesauce, and all the things to eat. I don't wonder that Aunt Patricia was provoked, 'specially when he has done so many other things to tease her. She didn't hurt him much for all her whacking around. I saw nearly as much of the fight as you did. She didn't hit him more than one lime out of ten. I was perfectly willing that my half of Dago should get what it deserved." At that, Phil cried still harder. "Well, if you say that," he sobbed, giving his pillow an angry thump, "then you don't love Dago as much as I do. You're against him, too. Nobody cares anything for either of us, and I'll take him and go off with him in the morning. I'm going as soon as it is light." But when the daylight came, Phil was not in such a hurry to go. He still refused to ask his Aunt Patricia's pardon, so his breakfast was sent up-stairs to him, and he ate in sulky silence. He waited until he saw his father drive away down the street, and then he went in search of Elsie. She is always wanting to do everything that he does, so he had no trouble in persuading her to help him carry out his plans. "Put on the oldest, raggedest clothes you can find," he said to her, "and tie an old handkerchief over your head so't you'll look as beggary as possible. I'll tear some more holes in the old overalls that I played in last summer, and pull part of the brim off my straw hat. We'll take the music-box out of the hall, and put it in my little red wheelbarrow, and you and me and Dago will start off through the streets like the grind-organ man did yesterday, I planned it all last night while everybody in the house was sound asleep. We'll sing when the music-box plays songs, and you and Dago can dance when it plays waltzes. I'll give you part of the money that we get to buy you the prettiest doll in town. I'll take the rest and go off to the place that I'm thinking about." He wouldn't tell her where the place was, although she begged him with tears in her eyes. "Some place where they're not cruel to little boys and monkeys," was all he would tell her. "Where they don't ever whip them, and where they don't mind 'em getting into mischief once in awhile." An hour later everything was ready for the start. Except for the daintily embroidered ruffles of her white linen underskirt, that would show below her old gingham dress, little Elsie might have been taken for the sorriest beggar in town. The dress was faded and outgrown. The little shawl she had pinned over her shoulders had one corner burned out of it, and the edges of the hole were scorched and jagged. A faded silk muffler that she had used in her doll-cradle was drawn tightly over her tousled curls, and tied under her chin. Phil's outfit might have come from the ragbag, too, it was so tattered and patched. But he had forgotten to take off his silver cuff-buttons, and the shoes he wore looked sadly out of place below the grimy jeans overalls. He was obliged to wear a pair of bright tan-coloured shoes, so new that they squeaked. They were the only ones he had, for his old ones had been thrown away the day before. At first he was tempted to go barefoot, but the November wind was chilly, although the sun shone, and he dared not risk it. It was ten o'clock by the court-house dial, and the bell was on the last stroke, when little Elsie held open the alley-gate and Phil trundled the red wheelbarrow through. I was perched on the music-box. Rather an uncertain seat, I found it, as it slid back and forth at every step. I had to hold on so tight that my arms were sore for two days afterward. "Which way shall we go?" asked little Elsie, as she fastened the gate behind us. Phil looked up and down the alley in an uncertain way, and then said, "When the princes in the fairy tales start out into the wide world to make their fortunes, they blow a leather up into the air and follow that." "Here's one," cried Elsie, running forward to pick up a bit of fluffy white down that had blown over from a pigeon-house on the roof of a neighbouring stable. "I'll blow, and you say the charm." She puckered up her rosy little mouth and gave a quick puff. "Feather, feather, when we blow, Point the way that we should go," sang Phil. "West!" he exclaimed, as it sailed lazily across the alley and over a high board fence. "That means that we are to go down toward the cotton-mills. I don't know much about that part of town. Mostly poor people live there, who look as if they hadn't much money to give away. But we'll try it, anyhow." Picking up the barrow-handles, he trundled down the alley toward Pine Street, with little Elsie holding fast to the tail of his tattered jacket. We were off at last, to seek our fortunes in the wide, wide world, and our hearts were light as we followed the feather. CHAPTER VI. WHAT DAGO SAID TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY ON SATURDAY. Such a day as that was! We enjoyed it at first, for the sun shone and a crowd of dancing children followed us everywhere we went. We were in a strange part of town, so no one recognised us, but more than one woman looked sharply at little Elsie's embroidered ruffles, peeping out below the old gingham dress, and at Phil's squeaky new shoes. "Have you run away, honey, or did your mammy dress you up that way and send you out to beg?" asked a pleasant-voiced woman, with a baby in her arms, as she leaned over a gate to drop a penny in Elsie's cup. Elsie gave a startled glance at Phil, not knowing what to say, and Phil, turning very red, moved away without answering. The music-box was an old-fashioned affair that wound up noisily with a big key. It played several jerky little waltzes and four plaintive old songs: "Ben Bolt," "The Last Rose of Summer," "Then You'll Remember Me," and "Home, Sweet Home." The children had sung them so often that they knew all the words, and their voices rang out lustily at first; but, about the twentieth time the same old round of tunes began, little Elsie drew a deep, tired breath. [Illustration] "Oh, Phil," she said, "I _can't_ sing those songs all over again. I'm sick of them." She sat down on the curbstone, refusing to join in the melody, clasping her hands around her knees, and rocking back and forth as the shrill voice of the music-box piped on alone. "I just _hate_ 'Sweet Alice Ben Bolt,'" she complained. "Isn't it most time to go home?" It was noon now. At the sound of the factory whistles all our followers had deserted us, and gone home to dinner. Phil sat down on the curbstone beside Elsie, and emptying the pennies out of the little cup she had been carrying, gravely counted them. "There's only eleven," he announced. "Of course we can't go home yet." The music-box droned out the last notes of "You'll Remember Me," gave a click, paused an instant as if to take breath, and then started mournfully on its last number, "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home." At the first sound of the familiar notes, Elsie laid her head down on her knees and began to weep dismally. "I wish I was back in my home, sweet home," she cried. "I'm _so_ tired and cold and hungry. I'm nearly starved. Oh, brother, I wisht I hadn't runned away! I don't _like_ to be a beggar," she wailed. Phil began patting her on the back. "Don't cry, sister," he begged. "We'll go back to that bake-shop we passed a little while ago, and get something to eat. Don't you remember how good it smelled? Come on! You'll feel better when you've had a lunch. I'll spend every penny we've got, if you'll only stop crying. We can make some more this afternoon." Elsie wiped her eyes on her shawl, let him help her to her feet, and obediently trotted after him as we went down the narrow back street, through which we had passed a few moments before. It was not far to the bakery. The opening of the door made a bell ring somewhere in the rear of the shop, and a fat, motherly old German woman came waddling to the front. Phil bought a bag of buns and another of little cakes, and was turning to go out again when Elsie climbed up on a chair near the stove, refusing to move. A cold wind had begun to blow outdoors, and her hands and wrists showed red below her short sleeves. "I'm tired," she said, with an appealing glance of her big blue eyes at the old woman. "Mayn't we stay here and rest while we eat the cakes?" "Ach, yes, mein liebchen!" cried the motherly old soul, taking Elsie's cold little hands in hers. "Come back mit me, where is one leedle chair like yourself." She led the way into a tiny sitting-room at the rear of the shop, where a canary in a cage and geraniums blooming in the window made it seem like summer. Hot, spicy smells of good things baking, floated in from ovens somewhere out of sight. As Elsie sank down into the little chair, with a deep sigh, Phil trundled the wheelbarrow into the room, and for the first time the old woman caught sight of me and the music-box. You should have heard her exclamations and questions. She laughed at Phil's answers until her fat sides shook. Little by little she found out the whole truth about our running away, and seemed to think it very amusing. After we had rested awhile, Phil offered to give her a private performance. As he started to wind the music-box, she opened a door into a stairway and called, "Oh, Meena! Make haste, once already, and bring der baby!" In answer to her call, a young woman came hurrying down the steps, carrying a big fat baby, who stared at us solemnly with its round blue eyes, and stuck its thumb in its mouth. But as the music started, and I began my dancing, he kicked and crowed with delight. The more he gurgled and cooed and waved his little fat hands, the broader the smiles spread on the women's faces. I mention this because the more he noticed us, the more his grandmother's heart seemed to warm toward us. When the music stopped, she went out of the room and brought us each a glass of milk and a little mince pie, hot from the oven. After we had eaten, Elsie got down on the rug and played with the baby, although Phil kept insisting that it was time to go. One thing after another delayed us until it was nearly the middle of the afternoon before we started out again on the streets. The old woman pinned Elsie's shawl around her more comfortably, kissed her on each cheek, and told Phil to hurry home with her, that it was getting too cold to be wandering around, standing on street corners. She watched us out of sight. As soon as we had turned a corner, Phil looked ruefully into Elsie's empty cup. "If I had known she was going to give us the milk and pie, I wouldn't have bought the buns," he said. "We haven't made much headway, and it gets dark so soon, these days. I'm afraid the feather fooled us about the way to go." We wandered on and on all the rest of that long afternoon, sometimes playing before every door, and sometimes walking blocks before stopping for a performance. Phil's new shoes tired his feet until he could scarcely drag them, and little Elsie's lips were blue with cold. At last when the music-box struck up "Home, Sweet Home" for what seemed the ten hundreth time, her voice quavered through the first line and stopped short with a sob. "Oh, Phil, I'm getting tireder and tireder! Can't you make that box skip that song?" she begged. "If I hear it another time I just can't stand it! I'll _have_ to turn around and go back home." Phil glanced anxiously at the clouded sky. The sun was so low it was hidden by the tall buildings, and the darkness was coming on rapidly. "Well, come along!" he said, impatiently. "I s'pose I'll have to take you home, cry-baby, but I'm not going in myself. We haven't any money at all, hardly; not enough to take me even a tweety, weenty part of the way to that place I'm going to, let alone enough to buy you that doll. But that's the way with girls. They always spoil everything." [Illustration: "ALL WENT WELL UNTIL WE REACHED AN ALLEY CROSSING."] Little Elsie rubbed her sleeve across her eyes and swallowed hard. "I wouldn't ask to go back, brother, really and truly I wouldn't, but I'm so cold and mizzible I feel most like I'm going to be sick." Phil looked at her little bare red hands and tear-stained face, and said, gruffly, "Well, then, get on the wheelbarrow. You can sit on the music-box and hold Dago in your lap, and I'll wheel you a piece until you get rested." Elsie very willingly climbed up and took me in her lap. It was hard work for Phil. He grew red in the face, and his arms ached, but he kept bravely on, although he was out of breath from the hard pushing. All went well until we reached an alley crossing. Phil, whose attention was all on the wheel of his barrow, which he was trying to steer safely between the cobblestones, did not see a long string of geese waddling down the alley on their way home from the commons, where they had been feeding all day. They came silently along in an awkward, wavering line, as quietly as a procession of web-footed ghosts, until they were almost upon us. Then the leader shot out his wings with a hoarse cry, every goose in the procession followed his example, and with a rush they flapped past us, half running, half flying. It was done with such startling suddenness that it caused a general upsetting of our party. Phil veered to one side, and over we went in a heap, music-box, Elsie, barrow, and all, with myself on top. There was a frightened scream from Elsie, followed by a steady downpour of tears as Phil picked her up. She had struck her forehead on a cobblestone, and a big blue bump was rapidly swelling above one eye. Her nose was bleeding a little, too. Phil was so occupied in trying to comfort her, and in wiping away the blood, that it was several minutes before he thought of the music-box. When he picked it up he found it was so badly broken that it would no longer play. "Oh, what will papa say!" cried Elsie. The little fellow made no answer, but could scarcely keep from crying himself, as he lifted it on the barrow, to start back home. "When will we be there, brother?" asked Elsie, when they had trudged along for some time. She was holding on to the tail of his jacket, sniffling dismally. Phil stopped, for they had reached a street corner, and looked around. It was growing dusk. Then he turned to her with a dazed, scared fate. "Oh, Sis," he cried, "I don't know what to do. This isn't the street that I thought it was. I'm afraid we're lost!" They had reached the edge of the town by this time. Only one more block of pretty suburban homes stood between them and the outskirting fields. "I'll tell you what we'll do," said Phil, after a moment's pause, bravely choking back his own fears at sight of his little sister's frightened face. "See that house over there with the firelight shining through the windows, so bright and warm? It looks as if kind people lived there. We'll go and ask them to show us the way home." "I wish I was home now," mourned Elsie. "I wish I was all clean and warm, sitting at the supper-table with my good clothes on, beside my papa. Maybe we'll never find our way back, any more! Maybe he'll never kiss me and say, 'Papa's dear little daughter,' again! He'll think I'm dead. Maybe we'll have to go and live with beggars, and be somebody's poor children all our life to punish us for running away; and, oh, maybe we'll never have any 'home, sweet home' any more!" At the picture she made for herself, of the cheerful room with the dear home faces gathered around the table, which she might never see again, she began to sob wildly. The tears were falling so fast now that she could hardly see, but stumbled blindly along, stumping her tired toes at every step, and clinging fast to Phil's old jacket. They had almost reached the house with the friendly windows, when a great iron gate just ahead of them swung open, and an elegantly dressed old lady walked out to step into a carriage, drawn up at the curbstone. Behind her came another old lady, tall and stately, and with something so familiar in appearance that both the children stood still in astonishment. She was looking about her with sharp, eagle-like eyes. Her skirts swished softly as she walked, and the little bunches of gray curls on each side of her face bobbed gently under her imposing black bonnet. "Aunt Patricia!" screamed little Elsie, darting forward and clasping her arms around the astonished old lady's knees. "Oh, Aunt Patricia! We're lost! _Please_ take us home!" If a dirty little grizzly bear had suddenly sprung up in the path and begun hugging her, Miss Patricia could not have been more amazed than she was at the sight of the ragged child who clung to her. She pushed back the old silk muffler from the tousled curls, and looked wonderingly on the child's blood-stained face with the blue bump still swelling on the forehead. "Caroline Driggs," she called to the lady who stood waiting for her at the carriage door, "am I dreaming? I never saw my nephew's children in such a plight before. I can scarcely believe they are his." "Oh, we are! We are!" screamed little Elsie. "I'll just _die_ if you say we are not!" Phil stood by, too shamefaced to plead for himself, yet fearful that she might take Elsie and leave him to his fate, because he had refused to apologise for his rude speech. Miss Patricia had been spending the day with Mrs. Driggs, who was an old friend of hers, and who was now about to take her home in her carriage. Mrs. Driggs seemed to understand the situation at a glance. "Come on," she said. "We'll put the children in here with us; the monkey and the rest of the gypsy outfit can go up with the coachman. Here, Sam, take this little beast on the seat with you, and lift up the barrow, too." If those children were half as glad to sink down on the comfortable cushions as I was to snuggle under the coachman's warm lap-robe, then I am sure that Mrs. Driggs's elegant carriage never held three more grateful hearts. As we climbed to our places I heard Mrs. Driggs say, kindly: "So the little ones were masquerading, were they? It is a cold day for such sport." Miss Patricia answered, in a voice that trembled with displeasure: "Really, Caroline, I am more deeply mortified than I can say, to think that any one bearing my name--the proud, unsullied name of Tremont--could go parading the streets, in the garb of a beggar, asking for alms. I cannot trust myself to speak of it calmly." All the way home I felt sorry for Phil. I didn't envy him having to sit there, facing Miss Patricia, with his conscience hurting him as it must have done. That is the advantage of being a monkey. We have no consciences to trouble us. I didn't envy his home-coming, either, although I knew he would be glad enough to creep into his warm, soft bed. His feet were badly blistered from his long tramp in his new shoes. Stuart looked after my comfort, and I was soon curled up snugly on a cushion before the fire. Phil and Elsie had a hot bath, and hot bread and milk, and were put to bed at once. Elsie was coughing at nearly every breath, and the doctor seemed troubled when he came up to rub some soothing lotion on the poor little swelled forehead. He brought something for Phil's blistered feet, too, but he never spoke a word all the time he was putting it on. After it was done he stood looking at him very gravely. Then he said: "Your little sister tells me that you took her out to dance and sing in the streets to-day to earn money, in order that you may run away from home. Is that so?" "Yes, sir," answered Phil, in a very faint voice. "So you are tired of your home," continued the doctor, "and think you could find kinder treatment among strangers who care nothing for you. I am sorry that my little son has come to such a conclusion. But if you are determined to leave us, there is no necessity for you to slip off like a thief in the night. Winter is coming on, and you will need all your warm clothes. Better take time to pack them properly, and collect whatever of your belongings you want to keep. I am very much afraid that this day's work is going to make your little sister ill. No doubt you will feel worse for it yourself, and will need a good rest before starting out. Maybe you'd better wait until Monday, before you turn your back for ever on your home and family." The doctor waited a moment, but Phil made no answer. After waiting another moment, still without a word from Phil, the doctor said, "Good night, my son," and walked down-stairs into the library. Now, I know well enough that, when we started out in the morning, Phil was fully determined to run away from home, as soon as he could earn enough money to take him. I couldn't understand what had changed his mind so completely. You can imagine my surprise when he began to sob, "Oh, papa! papa! You didn't kiss me good night and you don't care a bit if I run away! Oh, I don't want to go now! I don't _want_ to!" It sounded so pitiful that I got up off my cushion and walked over to the bed. All that I could do was to take his head in my arms and rub it and pat it and rub it again. I think it comforted him a little, although he sobbed out at first: "Oh, Dago, you're the only friend I've got! It's awful when a little boy's mother is dead, and there isn't anybody in the whole world to love him but a monkey!" The door was open into Elsie's room. She heard what he said, and in a minute, she came pattering across the carpet in her little bare feet and climbed up on the bed beside me. "Don't say that, brother," she begged, leaning over and kissing him. "Dago isn't the only one that loves you, 'cause there's me. Don't cry." "But, oh," wailed Phil, "papa didn't say one word about my staying! He doesn't care if I run away. He never once asked me not to, and I believe he'll be glad when I'm gone, 'cause he can't bear to see Aunt Patricia worried, and everything I do seems to worry her. She says she doesn't understand boys, and I s'pose it's best for me to go. But I don't want to. _Aow, I don't want to!_" By this time he had worked himself up into such a spasm of crying that he could not stop, for all little Elsie's begging. She wiped his eyes on the sheet with her little dimpled hands, and kissed him a dozen times. Then I think she must have grown frightened at his sobs, for she slipped off the bed to the floor, "I'll tell papa that you don't want to go," she said, trailing out of the room in her long white nightgown. She had to hold it up in front to keep from tripping, and her little bare feet went patter, patter, down the long stairs to the library. Wondering what would happen next, I followed her into the hall, and swung by my tail over the banister. Doctor Tremont was sitting in a big armchair before the fire, with his head in his hands. He looked very much troubled over something. She opened the door, and ran up to him. "Why, Elsie, child, what is the matter?" he cried, catching her in his arms. "What do you mean by running around the house in your nightgown? Doesn't my little daughter know that it will make her cough worse, and maybe make her very, very ill?" He started quickly up the stairs with her, to carry her back to bed. She clasped her arms around his neck, and laid her soft pink cheek against his. "Oh, daddy dear," I heard her say, "Phil is crying and crying up there in the dark, and the monkey's patting his head, trying to make him stop. He's crying because you don't love him any more. He said you didn't kiss him good night, and you don't care if he runs away, and he hasn't a friend in the world but me and the monkey. He feels awful bad about having to leave home. Oh, daddy dear, _please_ tell him he can stay!" CHAPTER VII. WHAT DAGO TOLD THE MIRROR-MONKEY ON SUNDAY. As soon as Elsie was put back to bed, Doctor Tremont came into the room where I was still trying to comfort Phil, for I had skipped back to him when they started up the stairs. Stirring the fire in the grate until it blazed brightly, he turned to look at Phil. There was a long silence; then he said, "Phil, come here, my boy. Come and sit on my knee by the fire. I want to talk to you awhile." His voice was so kind and gentle that it seemed to me nobody could have been afraid of him then, but Phil climbed out of bed very slowly, as if he did not want to obey. Wrapping him in a warm, fleecy blanket, the doctor drew him over to a big rocking-chair in front of the fire, and sat down with him on his knee. I crawled back to my cushion on the hearth. For a little while there was nothing said. The old chair crooned a comforting lullaby of _creakity-creak_, _creakity-creak_, as the doctor rocked back and forth, with the boy's curly head on his shoulder. At last he said: "You think that I am unkind, Phil, because I want to send your pet away, and cruel because I punished you for speaking rudely to your Aunt Patricia. Now, I am going to tell you her story, and maybe you will understand her better. The truth is, you do not understand your Aunt Patricia, or why many of the little things you do should annoy her. I want you to put yourself in her place as near as you can, and see how differently you will look at things from her standpoint. "She was the only child in a houseful of grown people, and growing up among prim elderly persons made her orderly and exact in everything she did. When she was a very little girl she was sent to a strict, old-fashioned school every morning, where she learned to work samplers as well as to read and spell. They used to tell that, at the age of seven, she came home one day with two prizes which she had taken. One was for scholarship, and one was for neatness in her needlework. When she brought them home, her grandmother (that is your great-great-grandmother, you know) praised her for the first; but her grandfather (the one whose portrait Stuart shot) said: 'Nay, it is for the neatness that the little lass should be most commended, for it is ever a pleasing virtue in a woman.' Then he gave her a gold dollar, to encourage her in always being neat and exact. She was so proud of it that nothing could have persuaded her to spend it. She had a hole bored in it so that she could hang it on a ribbon around her neck. For a long, long time she wore it that way. She has often said to me that the sight of it was a daily reminder of what her grandfather wanted her to be, and that it helped her to form those habits of orderliness and neatness in which her family took such pride. Long after she stopped wearing the little coin, the sight of it used to recall the old proverbs that she heard so often, such as '"A stitch in time saves nine," Patricia,' or, 'Remember, my dear, "have a place for everything, and everything in its place."' It used to remind her of the praise they gave her, too. Her grandfather's 'Well done, my good little lass,' was a reward that made her happy for hours. "Her room was always in perfect order. Even her toys were never left scattered about the house. She has her old doll packed away now, in lavender, in nearly as good condition as when it was given to her, sixty years ago. You can see how anything would annoy her that would break in on these lifelong habits of hers. She was a child that took great pleasure in her little keepsakes, and the longer she owned them the dearer they became. She kept that little gold coin, that her grandfather gave her, for over half a century; and that is the dollar that Dago lost. Do you wonder that she grieved over the loss of it? "The old blue china dragon is one of her earliest recollections. It used to sit on a cabinet in her grandmother's room, and there were always sugar-plums in it, as there have been ever since it was given to her. I can remember it myself when I was a boy. One of the pleasures of my visit to the old house was listening in the firelight to grandfather's 'dragon tales,' as we called them. They were about all sorts of wonderful things, and we called them that because, while he told them, the old dragon was always passed around and we sat and munched sugar-plums. That jar has been in the family so long that your great-great-grandfather remembered it when he was a boy,--and that is the jar that Dago broke. "There were very few children in the neighbourhood where your Aunt Patricia lived. For a long time she had no playmates except the little boy who lived on the adjoining place, Donald McClain. But he came over nearly every day for four years, and they grew to love each other like brother and sister. It was a lonesome time for the little Patricia when the McClains moved away. Donald brought her a tiny carnelian ring the day he came over for the last time. 'To remember me by,' he said, and she put it on her finger and remembered him always, as the kindest, manliest little playmate any child ever had. "She grew up after awhile to be a beautiful young girl. I will show you her miniature sometime, with the pearls around it. The little carnelian ring was too small then, and she had to lay it away; but she never forgot her old playmate. When she was nineteen her mother died, and, soon after, her father lost his eyesight, and she gave up all her time to caring for him. She sang to him, read to him, led him around the garden, and amused him constantly. She never went anywhere without him, never thought of her own pleasure, but stayed alone with him in the quiet old house, year after year, until he died. "Donald came back once after he was a man, and had been through college, and stayed all summer in his old home. He was going to Scotland in the fall. Before he left, he asked Aunt Patricia to be his wife and go with him. She said, 'I would, Donald, if I were not needed so much here at home; but how could I go away and leave my poor old blind father?' "He would not take no for an answer, but went away, saying that he would be back again in a year, and then they would take care of the dear old father together. But when the year was over, the ship that was bringing him home went down at sea in a storm, and all that Aunt Patricia had left of his was his letters, and the little carnelian ring he had given her, when they were children, to 'remember him by.' And that is the ring that Dago lost." Phil raised his head quickly from his father's shoulder. "Oh, papa!" he cried. "I'm so sorry! I never could have said anything mean to her if I had known all that." His father went on. "That is why I am telling you this now, my son. Maybe children could understand old people better, if they knew how much they had suffered in their long lives, how much they had lost, and how much they had given up for other people's sakes. Aunt Patricia has been like a mother to me ever since I was left without any, when I was Stuart's age. She sent me to college, she gave me a home with her until I was successfully started in my profession, and has shown me a thousand other kindnesses that I have not been able to repay. I have been able to make up to her what she has spent in money, but a lifetime would not be long enough to cancel my debt to her for all the loving care she has given me. But even if she hadn't been so kind; even if she were crabbed and cross and unreasonable, I couldn't let a son of mine be rude to an old lady under my roof. One never knows what troubles have whitened the hair and made the wrinkles come in the temper as well as the face. Old age must be respected, no matter how unlovely. "As for Aunt Patricia,--if you would only remember how good she was to you after your accident, how she nursed you, and waited on you, and read to you hour after hour,--she has been tender and loving to all of you, especially little Elsie, and is trying to help me bring up my children as best we can, alone. And, Phil, my boy, sometimes it is as hard for us as it is for you, to always know what is best to do without the little mother's help." Phil's arm stole around his father's neck. "I'll ask Aunt Patricia's pardon in the morning, the very first thing," he said, in a low voice. "I'll tell her that I didn't understand her, just like she didn't understand me, and after this I'll be like the three wise monkeys of Japan." "How is that?" asked his father, smiling. "Why, never say or hear or see more than I ought to. Keep my hands over my eyes or ears or mouth, whenever I'm tempted to be rude. Instead of thinking that she's fussy and particular, I'll only see the wrinkles in her face that the trouble made, and I'll remember how good she's been to you and all of us." His father hugged him closer. "If you can always remember to do that," he said, "your part of the world will certainly be a happy place to live in. If you can be blind and deaf to other people's faults and speak only pleasant things." "Papa," said Phil, in the pause that followed, hiding his face on his father's shoulder and speaking with a tremble in his voice, "I'm mighty sorry I did so many bad things to-day: broke the music-box, and ran away with Elsie, and mortified the family name, begging on the streets. That's what Aunt Patricia told Mrs. Driggs. I never want to run away again as long as I live. Oh, if you'll only forgive me and let me stay, I'd rather be your little boy than anybody else's in the whole world!" The doctor gathered him closer in his arms and kissed him. "Do you think that anything in the whole world could make me give you up, my little Philip?" he said. "You have been a great worry to me sometimes, but you are one of my very greatest blessings, and I love you--oh, my child, you will never know how much!" A great, happy "bear-hug" almost choked him, as Phil's arms were clasped about his neck. Then he said, "I think we understand each other all the way around, now. Shut your eyes, little man, and I'll rock you to sleep." Phil snuggled down against him like a little bird in a warm nest, and there they sat in the firelight together. The old rocking-chair threw a giant shadow on the wall as it swung slowly back and forth, back and forth. "_Creakity-creak_," droned the rockers. "_Creakity-creak_, _squeakity-squeak_," and to the music of their drowsy song Phil fell fast asleep in his father's arms. CHAPTER VIII. DAGO BIDS FAREWELL TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY. Hey there, Ring-tail, I've just slipped in a moment to say good-bye. I'm off for California in the morning. It seems that I'm at the bottom of all the trouble in this family, so I'm to be shipped by the fast express. But you needed waste any sympathy on _me_. I am going back to the old California garden among the vines and the pepper-trees, where I shall miss all the winter's snow and ice that I have been dreading. The boys do not feel that they are giving me up entirely, for they will see me once a year when they visit their grandfather. I am sorry to leave them, but the kindest master in the world couldn't make me as happy as the freedom of the warm, wide outdoors. Next time you hear of me I shall be back in that land of summer, watching the water splash over the marble mermaid in the fountain, and the goldfish swim by in the sun. Think of me, sometimes, Ring-tail; not as you have known me here, caged in a man-made house, and creeping about in everybody's way, but think of me as the happiest, freest creature that ever swung from a bough. Free as the birds and the bees in the old high-walled garden, and as happy, too, as they, when the sunshine turns to other sunshine all the Gold of Ophir roses. Good-bye! old fellow! [Illustration] THE END. Works of Annie Fellows Johnston THE LITTLE COLONEL SERIES The Little Colonel $ .50 The Giant Scissors .50 Two Little Knights of Kentucky .50 (The three stories above are also published in one volume, entitled The Little Colonel Stories, $1.50.) The Little Colonel's House Party 1.00 The Little Colonel's Holidays 1.50 The Little Colonel's Hero _net_, 1.20 The Little Colonel at Boarding-School _net_, 1.20 OTHER BOOKS Big Brother .50 Ole Mammy's Torment .50 The Story of Dago .50 Cicely _net_, .40 Aunt 'Liza's Hero _net_, .40 Asa Holmes 1.00 Flip's "Islands of Providence" 1.00 Songs Ysame 1.00 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY 200 Summer Street, Boston, Mass. 
18626	----	The Tale Of Major Monkey BY ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY Author of THE CUFFY BEAR BOOKS SLEEPY-TIME TALES, ETC. Illustrations by Lawrence Brehm GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK Copyright, 1919, by GROSSET & DUNLAP PRINTED IN U.S.A. [Illustration: "There's a Tiger inside this Tree!"] CONTENTS I Strange Whispers 1 II No 'Possum 6 III Getting Acquainted 11 IV Wanted--A Lodging 16 V Meeting Major Monkey 22 VI Too Many Disputes 28 VII The Major Has a Pain 33 VIII A Secret 39 IX The Major Has a Plan 45 X The New Army 50 XI War in the Woods 56 XII Over and Under 61 XIII The Major Hesitates 65 XIV Throwing Stones 70 XV The Retreat 75 XVI The Major's Trouble 81 XVII Major Monkey Confesses 86 XVIII Planning a Journey 92 XIX The Major's Scheme 97 XX A Fast Ride 102 XXI A Sweet Tooth 108 XXII Caught! 113 XXIII The Major Goes South 117 The Tale of Major Monkey I Strange Whispers The wild folk in Pleasant Valley were whispering strange stories to one another. If the stories were true, they were most amazing. And if they were merely made up to cause talk, certainly they succeeded. Perhaps if somebody less tricky than Peter Mink and Tommy Fox had started these odd tales, the rest of the wild folk might have been quicker to believe them. Anyhow, the news offered the best of excuses for gossip. And many of the field- and forest-people repeated it so often that they almost began to believe it themselves. All but old Mr. Crow. He declared stoutly that the whole thing was nothing but a hoax. "You can't fool me!" he told people. But when they said that they had no intention of trying to, he had to change his statement. "I mean"--he explained--"I mean that neither Tommy Fox nor Peter Mink can fool me. They can't make me believe that they've seen anybody hanging by his tail in a tree-top." "Why not?" asked Mr. Crow's cousin, Jasper Jay. "_Becaws_----" said Mr. Crow. And then he corrected himself once more. "Because," he replied, "no 'possum ever came so far North as this. I've spent a good many winters in the South, and I ought to know. And besides," he added, "although a 'possum can hang by his tail, there never was one that could throw a stick or a stone. And I ought to know, for I've spent a good many winters in the South, where the 'possums live." Everybody had to admit that old Mr. Crow must know what he was talking about. And people began to feel rather foolish when they realized how near they had been to letting those two rascals--Peter Mink and Tommy Fox--deceive them. As for old Mr. Crow, having persuaded his neighbors to his way of thinking, he began to be more pleased with himself than ever. And he spent a good deal of time sitting in a tall tree near the cornfield, with his head on one side, hoping that his friends would notice how wise he looked. He was engaged in that agreeable pastime one afternoon when--_thump!_--something struck the limb on which he was perched. Mr. Crow gave a squawk and a jump. And then he glanced quickly toward the ground. There was no one anywhere in sight. So Mr. Crow looked somewhat silly. For a moment he had thought that Johnnie Green had thrown something at him. But he saw at once that he was mistaken. Of course it could have been nothing more than a dead branch falling. He settled himself again, trying to appear as if he hadn't been startled, when--_plump!_--something gave him a smart blow on his back. Old Mr. Crow flopped hastily into a neighboring tree. And this time he looked up instead of down. At first he could see nothing unusual. And he had almost made up his mind that something had fallen out of the sky, when a head showed itself from behind a limb and a queer, wrinkled face peered at him. Mr. Crow did not recognize the face. It was an odd one. In fact, he thought he had never seen an odder. But if he thought the face a queer one, it was not half as peculiar as the stranger's actions. For, as Mr. Crow watched him, the stranger slipped into full view, hanging by his tail and one hand from a limb, while with the other hand he waved a red cap. Old Mr. Crow's mouth fell open. For a time he said never a word. And for him, that was quite out of the ordinary. II No 'Possum At first old Mr. Crow could scarcely believe his eyes. He stared and stared. Certainly it was no 'possum that he saw. And yet the stranger was hanging by his tail. There could be no doubt about that. Even as Mr. Crow watched him he waved both hands at Mr. Crow, and swung by his tail alone. The old gentleman was terribly upset. During all the summers he had spent in Pleasant Valley he had never seen any such person there before. For a moment Mr. Crow was worried about himself. He wondered if he was not ill. He knew he had eaten a good deal of corn that day. And he half hoped that that was the trouble--that perhaps he saw something that wasn't really in the tree at all. Then he remembered the blow on his back. Had the queer person in the tree-top struck him?... Mr. Crow grew angry. "Did you hit me?" he called. "I'm not sure," said the stranger. "But I _think_ I did, for I saw you jump." "Then you threw something at me!" Mr. Crow screamed. "Oh, no!" the other replied. "I didn't throw anything at you, sir. I merely dropped something on your back." Mr. Crow choked. Perhaps it was as well that he could not speak just then. He coughed and spluttered and swallowed and swayed back and forth, trying to get his breath. And he had begun, at last to feel better, when--_biff!_--something struck him again and all but knocked him over. The stranger gave a shrill whistle. "I _threw_ something that time!" he jeered. Old Mr. Crow felt that he had been terribly insulted. He looked as dignified as he could. And he would have turned his back on the stranger--had he dared. While he was wondering whether he had better fly away, or stay and quarrel with the rude person who had pelted him, the boorish stranger leaped from the tall tree into the smaller one where Mr. Crow was sitting. Then, dropping nimbly from limb to limb, with the help of his hands and his feet and his tail, he stopped at last when he had reached Mr. Crow's level. One thing was certain. The stranger was bold as brass. He looked Mr. Crow up and down. And then he said: "You're a gay old bird! What's your name?" Now, no doubt some people would have been angry. But Mr. Crow rather liked to be called gay, because he couldn't help looking solemn. And most people knew he was very old. And everybody was aware he was a bird. So he said hoarsely: "My name is Mister Crow--and please don't forget the _Mister_." The stranger put on his flat-topped red cap and touched the visor smartly with his right hand, in a military manner. Old Mr. Crow couldn't help admiring the newcomer's clothes. He wore a red coat trimmed with gold braid, and bright blue trousers. "That's a handsome suit that you have on," Mr. Crow observed. "I shouldn't mind having one like it myself." The stranger seemed pleased. And he touched his cap again. "I'm afraid you can't have a suit like this," he said. "It's a _uniform_--that's what it is. And, of course, a plain _Mister_ like you can't wear a uniform. But I wear one because I'm a soldier." Old Mr. Crow was disappointed. But he soon brightened up. Though he wasn't a soldier himself, at least it was pleasant to know one. So he decided to forget that he had been angry with the stranger. "What's your name?" he asked. "Major Monkey," said the newcomer, knocking off his cap with one hand and catching it with the other as it fell. "When you speak to me, please don't forget the _Major_," he added. III Getting Acquainted Major Monkey and old Mr. Crow had a long talk. They got on famously together, because the old gentleman liked to pry into other people's affairs and the Major loved to talk about himself. In reply to Mr. Crow's questions, Major Monkey explained that he was a great traveller. And having found himself in the village a few miles away, he had taken a notion to see the surrounding country. "This is a delightful spot," the Major remarked. "And if your neighbors are half as pleasant as you are, I think I'll stay right here for the present." Naturally, old Mr. Crow was flattered. He couldn't remember when anybody had said he was pleasant. "I hope you will settle in Pleasant Valley," he told Major Monkey. "As for the neighbors--well, you'll find them a queer lot, mostly." "What's the matter with them?" the Major asked him. Thereupon old Mr. Crow shook his head. "They're not at all like me," he replied slowly. "Of course, there's my cousin, Jasper Jay. He's not a bad sort--except that he's rude, noisy, and a good deal of a rascal. But the others--well, most of them are too greedy. If I didn't watch this cornfield closely some of them wouldn't care if they didn't leave a single kernel for anybody else." "Do you like corn?" the Major inquired. Mr. Crow swallowed once or twice before answering. "I can eat it," he said finally. "It keeps one alive, you know. But if you've never had any, I advise you not to touch it." Major Monkey thanked him. "Don't mention it!" said Mr. Crow. "I'm delighted to be of help to a stranger. And if there is anything else I can do, don't hesitate to call on me." Major Monkey thanked him again. And then he said: "I'd like to get acquainted with all the neighbors--such as they are. And I would suggest that you give a party and invite me and a lot of people to come to it, so I can meet them." Old Mr. Crow bit his tongue. It struck him that Major Monkey was just the least bit too forward. "What about refreshments?" Mr. Crow asked him. "It's easy to see that you don't know the neighbors. I can tell you that they have enormous appetites--every one of them." "Oh! that's easily arranged," said Major Monkey. "Tell everybody to be sure to have his refreshments before he comes to the party." "A good idea!" Mr. Crow exclaimed. With that difficulty removed he was willing to give a party, for he quite liked the prospect of introducing everybody to "his old friend, Major Monkey." "You're sure you don't know anybody in this valley except me?" Mr. Crow asked. He didn't want to divide with anyone else the honor of being a friend of anybody so imposing as the Major. "I haven't spoken to a soul but you," Major Monkey assured him. Mr. Crow said he was glad of that. And then he asked the Major to keep out of sight until the time came for the party to begin. At first Major Monkey objected. And not until Mr. Crow promised to have the party that very day--an hour before sunset--did he consent to hide himself. "Where's a good place?" he asked Mr. Crow. "That tree is hollow," said Mr. Crow, pointing to the one in which he had first seen the Major. "Just slip inside that hole there, about half way up the trunk, and don't come out till I call you!" Major Monkey scrambled back into the tall tree. And Mr. Crow watched him narrowly until he was out of sight. Indeed, the old gentleman even continued to stare at the hole after his friend had vanished inside it. IV Wanted--A Lodging Afterward old Mr. Crow had to admit that he must have been forgetful. He had told Major Monkey to hide inside the hollow tree. And being a total stranger in the neighborhood, of course the Major didn't know that an owl lived there. So he entered the dark hole boldly. And soon he came dashing out of it much faster than he had gone in, shrieking at the top of his voice. Old Mr. Crow was poised on a branch, as if he were waiting for something. And he almost smiled as he looked at the Major and saw that he was shaking. The poor fellow's teeth were chattering, too. "What's the matter?" Mr. Crow called to him. "There's--there's a Tiger inside this tree!" Major Monkey stammered. "I know it's a Tiger, for I saw his eyes." "Nonsense!" Mr. Crow exclaimed. And he burst into a loud _haw-haw_. "It's nothing but an old Owl. I forgot all about him. A fine soldier you are--afraid of an old Owl!" Major Monkey straightened his cap and looked as soldierly as he could. "You're mistaken, in a way," he told Mr. Crow. "I admit I was afraid. I was _afraid I had frightened him_, waking him up so suddenly. So I retreated." Old Mr. Crow stopped laughing and looked very thoughtful. It occurred to him that Major Monkey was a somewhat slippery person. Certainly he could slip out of a hole about as easily as anybody Mr. Crow knew. "You'll have to find some other place for me to hide," the Major announced. "I don't want to stay in this tree all day, for I shouldn't like to disturb a gentleman's rest." Mr. Crow pondered for a few moments. "You see that old haystack?" he said at last, pointing across the fields. "Go and burrow under that. And be back here exactly an hour before sunset." Major Monkey saluted. "That suits me," he said. And then he turned and scurried down to the ground, leaped quickly upon the fence, and galloped off along the topmost rails. * * * * * Mr. Crow spent a very busy day inviting everybody to his party, to meet his old friend, Major Monkey. "He's a famous soldier," Mr. Crow explained, when people asked him questions. "And I hope you'll all wear your best clothes, because the Major himself is very handsomely dressed. There's gold braid on his coat, and on his cap, too." The old gentleman talked so much about the Major's uniform that a good many of the neighbors thought that Mr. Crow ought to postpone his party for a few days, until they could get Mr. Frog, the tailor, to make them some new clothes. But Mr. Crow wouldn't listen to them. "No!" he said. "We mustn't wait. My friend the Major is a great traveller. There's no knowing when he will take it into his head to move on. And if you want to meet him there's no time like the present." Well, people were so busy getting ready for the party that there was a great flurry everywhere all day long--except at the haystack, where Major Monkey was hiding. And even he did not have so dull a time as you might suppose. Luckily, he had discovered a lone apple tree near-by. And being fond of fruit he crept out of the haystack every few minutes and gathered apples. What he could eat, he ate greedily. And what he couldn't he hid under the stack. And on the whole, he had rather a pleasant time. V Meeting Major Monkey Everybody was prompt when the hour came for Mr. Crow's party. In fact, everybody was ahead of time. Old Mr. Crow had talked so much about his old friend Major Monkey and the Major's gold-braided uniform that people simply couldn't wait to see the stranger and his fine clothes. There was just one difficulty: the Major himself was not on hand. Old Mr. Crow began to be terribly worried. But he tried not to let anybody know that he was disturbed. "He'll be here soon," he said when people asked him where Major Monkey was. "I've never known my friend the Major to break an engagement. He's a bit late--that's all. I only hope he isn't lost. You know he's a stranger in these parts." Now, Mr. Crow was sitting in a tree, gazing toward the haystack in the distance, where he had told the Major to hide. And he had hardly finished speaking when a big red apple struck the tree just above his head with a loud _smack_ and broke into bits. Mr. Crow jumped. And so did everybody else. But before the party had time to scatter, Major Monkey peeped from behind a neighboring tree and uttered a piercing whistle. "Don't go, friends!" Mr. Crow cried to his companions. "Here he is now! Here's Major Monkey himself.... That's only one of his jokes," he added, for he noticed that some of his cronies appeared somewhat nervous. Major Monkey drew nearer. His face bore a wide grin; while in his hand he clutched another red apple, which he threatened playfully to throw at the company. "Don't do that, Major!" Mr. Crow called. "You might get hungry, you know. And if you do, you can eat that apple." Major Monkey touched his cap to Mr. Crow. He seemed to think that was good advice, for he lowered the hand that held the apple. On hearing Mr. Crow's suggestion the whole company began to laugh. They seemed to think that Mr. Crow was joking. "Who ever heard of anybody going hungry at a party?" Fatty Coon exclaimed. And turning to Mr. Crow, he asked him where the refreshments were. The old gentleman seemed taken aback. "I declare," he gasped, "I forgot to tell you all to have your refreshments before you came." "Isn't there going to be anything to eat?" Fatty Coon asked him anxiously. Mr. Crow shook his head. "It really doesn't matter," he said, talking very fast. "You know, I invited everybody to meet my old friend, Major Monkey. And here he is, all ready to tell you about his travels. But first we'll have a little music." It was now the Major's turn to look uneasy. "Music!" he echoed. "I hope you haven't gone and got a hand-organ!" "No--not that!" said Mr. Crow. "The Woodchuck brothers are going to whistle for us." "Oh!" said the Major, who appeared much relieved. "I was afraid you had a hand-organ. And I don't care for that sort of music. I've heard too much of it on my travels." At a signal from Mr. Crow, the Woodchuck brothers stepped forward and started to whistle a lively tune, called "Clover Blossoms." Being very fond of clover blossoms, the musicians began whistling in a most spirited fashion. But they had bad luck. Though he did not know the tune, Major Monkey insisted on whistling, too. And all the company stopped up their ears, except Mr. Crow. He stood the noise as long as he could. And then he ordered the whistlers to stop. "What tune were you whistling?" he asked the Major. "It's called 'Banana Blossoms,'" Major Monkey explained. "You see, I'm very fond of bananas." Old Mr. Crow laughed. "The two tunes don't go well together," he said. "So we won't have any more music." And Fatty Coon cried that he was glad of that, because when people whistled about things to eat it only made him hungrier than ever. VI Too Many Disputes On the whole, Mr. Crow's party would have been a great success if it hadn't been for Peter Mink and Tommy Fox. As soon as Major Monkey showed himself, after throwing the apple at Mr. Crow, those two began whispering slyly together. And when the Major climbed a tree and hung from a limb by his tail they both jumped up and said to Mr. Crow: "We saw Major Monkey before you ever did!" Mr. Crow promptly flew into a rage. "You did not!" he squalled. "Yes, we did!" they declared. "We told people several days ago that we had seen a stranger hanging by his tail; and nobody believed us because you said it wasn't possible. You said nobody but a 'possum could do that, and that no 'possum ever came as far north as Pleasant Valley." Old Mr. Crow was very angry. Although he knew that Tommy and Peter were speaking the truth, he did not care to hear it. Certainly there was no use of _his_ denying what they said. But an idea popped into his head. "Which of you saw the Major first?" he asked. "I did!" they both bawled at the same time. And then followed a terrible dispute: _"You didn't! I did! I did! You didn't!"_ Now, that was exactly what Mr. Crow wanted. He had started Peter Mink and Tommy Fox to quarreling. "They'll never agree," Mr. Crow cried. "Let's ask Major Monkey to settle the dispute! Let's leave it to him!" And turning to his friend, the Major, Mr. Crow said: "Which of these two sharp-nosed rascals did you see first?" Major Monkey took a bite out of his apple while he looked closely at Peter Mink and Tommy Fox. "I never saw either of them until I came to this party," he declared. "And then I saw both at the same time, because they were whispering together." "There!" Mr. Crow shouted to the whole company. "You hear what my old friend the Major says?" Tommy Fox and Peter Mink stopped quarreling. "You didn't ask the Major the proper question!" they objected. "We never said _he_ saw _us_ at all! We said----" But Mr. Crow waved them aside. "If you aren't too hungry," he muttered to Major Monkey, "I'd suggest that you let fly with that red apple." The Major was only too willing. With deadly aim he flung the apple at Peter Mink and Tommy Fox. First it hit Peter on the nose, and then it bounced off and struck Tommy on _his_ nose. And then the party came to an end in an awful uproar. For Peter and Tommy were very angry. Those that could fly flew away in a great hurry. And those that could run scampered quickly out of sight. As for the soldier, Major Monkey, he climbed a tree and hung by his tail from a limb, where he swung backwards and forwards and made faces at Tommy Fox and Peter Mink until their rage was terrible to see. Mr. Crow did not desert his friend the Major. He remained in a tree near-by, to watch the fun. And there's no telling how long it would have lasted had not Major Monkey pulled himself suddenly up on a limb and laid a hand across the front of his red coat. There was a look of pain upon his face. "What's the matter?" Mr. Crow asked him. "Are you wounded?" he inquired. Knowing that the Major was a soldier, he could think of nothing but a wound that would make him act as he did. "I--I'm not sure," Major Monkey replied. "It may be that I've eaten too many apples." VII The Major Has a Pain The party had come to an end; nobody was left except old Mr. Crow and his friend Major Monkey. Mr. Crow himself was fast growing sleepy, for it was almost dark. And he wanted to fly home and go to bed. But he hardly felt that he ought to leave just then. There was no doubt that the Major was in great pain. He kept one hand pressed against the lowest button of his short red coat. His cap was awry. And his wrinkled face showed a careworn and anxious look. "How many apples have you eaten to-day?" Mr. Crow asked his friend. "I haven't the slightest idea," the Major answered. "After I had finished two dozen I lost count." "My goodness!" Mr. Crow exclaimed. "It's no wonder you're ill.... We'll hurry over to the pasture and see Aunt Polly Woodchuck, the herb doctor. _She'll_ know what to do for you." Major Monkey was more than willing. So they set out at once. The Major travelled through the tree-tops where he could, while Mr. Crow flew slowly, alighting now and then to wait for his friend to overtake him. In a little while they came to the pasture. And Major Monkey was glad to find Aunt Polly at home. [Illustration: Aunt Polly Woodchuck Offered Him an Apple] She was a wise old lady. She knew right away, without being told, that it was Major Monkey--and not Mr. Crow--that was ill. "You're in pain," she remarked to the Major. "I knew it the moment I set eyes on you." Major Monkey moaned faintly. "I hope you'll give me something to make me feel better," he wailed. "I will," Aunt Polly Woodchuck promised. And putting her hand inside a basket that she carried on her arm, she drew forth a red apple. "Here!" she said, "eat this!" Major Monkey drew back. "No!" he groaned. "I don't want any more apples. I've had too many already." Aunt Polly Woodchuck shot a triumphant look at Mr. Crow. "I thought so," she said. And she dropped the red apple back into her basket. "Now," she went on, turning again to the Major, "I should like to ask whether you're fond of corn." Old Mr. Crow stepped forward quickly. "I object!" he cried. "The less said about corn, the better!" Aunt Polly Woodchuck hastened to explain that she meant no offense to anyone. "I merely wondered," she said, "whether you gave your guests corn to eat at your party." "Certainly not!" Mr. Crow exploded. "Certainly not!" And he glared at the old lady as if to say: "Change the subject--for pity's sake!" "You're a stranger in these parts, I take it," Aunt Polly said, turning once more to Major Monkey. "No doubt you've been used to eating different food from what you get hereabouts." "That's so," the Major admitted. "I've been living mostly on boiled rice, with a baked potato now and then." "Ah! Cooked food!" said Aunt Polly. "And if you had that sort of fare, you must have been living with _men_." The Major looked uneasy. "I don't care to talk about my past," he murmured. "Just you give me something to warm my stomach a bit. That's all I ask of you." Well, Aunt Polly Woodchuck handed him some peppermint leaves. "Chew these," she directed him. "And if you don't feel better to-morrow I'll lose my guess." Major Monkey put the leaves into his mouth and made a wry face. "Haven't you a lump of sugar to make this dose taste better?" he asked her. "There!" Aunt Polly cried. "You've been fed by _men_! I knew it all the time." Major Monkey made no comment on her remark. And settling his cap firmly on his head he said that he must be going. So he and Mr. Crow went off. "Where are you going to spend the night?" Mr. Crow asked him as soon as they were out of Aunt Polly's hearing. "That haystack is a good place," said the Major. "I believe I'll live there as long as I stay in Pleasant Valley." "It's not far from the farmhouse," Mr. Crow observed. "Perhaps you could steal--er--I mean _find_ a little cooked food there now and then." "That's an idea," Major Monkey told him. But he did not explain whether he thought it a good one or not. VIII A Secret When Major Monkey awoke the following morning his pain had left him. Creeping from the haystack where he had slept, he cast longing eyes at the red apples in the tree near-by. But he remembered his trouble of the evening before. And he remembered likewise what Mr. Crow had said about "finding" something to eat at the farmhouse. But for some reason the Major wanted to avoid Farmer Green's house. To be sure, he would have enjoyed sitting down with the family at the breakfast table. But he was afraid something might prevent his leaving after he had eaten. Luckily Major Monkey was a person who could usually find a way out of any difficulty. And now he made up his mind that a light meal of eggs was the very thing he needed in order to begin the day right. So he went straight to the woods and climbed the first tree he came to--a pine tree just beyond the fence. There Major Monkey found exactly what he was looking for. In a warbler's nest, a dozen feet from the ground, he beheld five speckled eggs. The owners of the nest were not at home. But knowing that one or the other would soon return, the Major did not care to linger long over their treasures. He noticed that one of the eggs was bigger than the others. "Really there are too many eggs here for this small nest," the Major said to himself. "If I take the big one I'll be doing the owners a favor." So he picked up the big egg, and holding it carefully in one hand he hurried away. When he had put some distance between himself and the nest, Major Monkey stopped to enjoy his breakfast. He was just on the point of opening the egg, when who should come up but old Mr. Crow. The Major quickly hid his breakfast behind his back. "Good morning!" said Mr. Crow. "I hope you are feeling better to-day." "Oh, yes--thank you!" said Major Monkey. "I'm quite well again." Mr. Crow's sharp eyes pierced him through and through. "What are you holding behind you?" he asked bluntly. The Major saw that he was caught. "It's my breakfast," he confessed, giving Mr. Crow a quick glance at what was in his hand. "I--I found it," he said. "Wasn't I lucky?" "A bird's egg!" Mr. Crow exclaimed disapprovingly. "What kind is it?" "It's nothing but a Warbler's egg," Major Monkey replied. The old gentleman smiled knowingly. And feeling more comfortable, Major Monkey opened his hand and gave Mr. Crow a good look at his prize. "That's too big for a Warbler's egg!" Mr. Crow cried. "I found it in a Warbler's nest," Major Monkey insisted. "Were there any more like this one in the nest?" Mr. Crow asked. "Oh, yes!" the Major answered. "Were they as big as this egg?" Mr. Crow inquired. Major Monkey explained that they were not. "Just as I supposed!" the old gentleman exclaimed. "This isn't a Warbler's egg. It's a Cowbird's egg. And you've done that Warbler family a good turn by taking it out of their nest. "I know Mrs. Cowbird," he went on. "She's too lazy to bring up her own children. So she sneaks through the woods and lays her eggs in other folk's nests.... I must tell of this," Mr. Crow added. "People will think very kindly of you when they hear what you have done." But Major Monkey begged him not to mention the matter to anyone. He pleaded so hard that at last Mr. Crow consented to keep the affair a secret between them. And Mr. Crow couldn't help thinking that Major Monkey was one of the most modest people he had ever met. Then the Major opened the egg with great skill, and ate its contents without spilling a drop. "Now," he said, "now I'm ready for business." IX The Major Has a Plan "What is your business, if I may ask?" Mr. Crow inquired of Major Monkey. "Lately I've been spending my time travelling," the Major replied. "But you know I'm a soldier. And while I'm in Pleasant Valley I intend to form an army." Old Mr. Crow looked somewhat worried when he heard that. "I hope you aren't going to guard the cornfield!" he said hastily. Major Monkey set his fears at rest. "We'll let Farmer Green do that," he said with a wink. "This is what we'll do: we'll band ourselves together and we'll fight any strangers that come to Pleasant Valley to live." "That's not a bad plan," Mr. Crow remarked. "But it's lucky for you that you didn't form the army before you got here yourself--else we'd have had to fight _you_." "Of course!" Major Monkey agreed. "But trust me not to make such a mistake as that." "Who's going to be in the army?" Mr. Crow wanted to know. "Everybody!" the Major answered, with a wave of the hand that took in the whole valley. For as long as a minute old Mr. Crow was very thoughtful. "I shall not care to be in it unless I can be a general," he announced at last. "Why, certainly!" said Major Monkey. "Certainly you shall be a general, Mr. Crow." Mr. Crow swelled himself up and looked as important as he could. "Get everybody to come to the edge of the woods, near the pasture, early to-morrow morning," Major Monkey commanded. "Aren't you going to do any of the work?" Mr. Crow demanded. "I thought generals didn't have to do anything except look wise." "It's easier for you to get about than it is for me. But as soon as we have our army together I'll take entire charge of it," Major Monkey informed him. Mr. Crow was satisfied. After all, it wouldn't really be _work_, he told himself, to fly around and tell the people the news. In fact, the more he thought about the plan the better he liked it. So he bade Major Monkey good-by and hurried away. When Mr. Crow had flown out of sight the Major rolled over and over on the ground. And then he climbed a tree and swung by his tail from a limb, while he made an odd, chuckling sound. "A _general_!" he said. "_General Crow!_ Why he never wore a uniform in all his life!" On the following morning the field-and forest-folk began gathering at the edge of the woods near the pasture almost before it was light. And when Major Monkey left his snug bed in the haystack and went to the meeting-place he found an eager throng waiting for him. Old Mr. Crow was flitting about, talking in a loud voice, and ordering people around to his heart's content. "Silence!" Major Monkey commanded, as soon as he arrived. Mr. Crow opened his mouth to speak. But Major Monkey cut him off short. "The first thing a soldier has to learn is to _obey_," he barked. "But I'm a _general_!" Mr. Crow protested. "Well, these are _general_ orders; so you'll have to obey 'em," said Major Monkey glibly. And poor old Mr. Crow didn't know what to say to that. But he couldn't help looking rather grumpy. X The New Army "Now, then--fall in!" Major Monkey shouted to the whole company of field-and forest-folk. But nobody had the slightest idea what he meant. "You don't suppose he expects us to fall in the brook, do you?" Tommy Fox asked his nearest neighbor. If there was anything that Tommy disliked, it was getting his feet wet. Major Monkey soon saw that nobody knew what to do. "Form a long line, two deep!" he directed. And then there was trouble, because everyone wanted to be in the front rank (as Major Monkey called it) in order to see everything. After a good deal of jostling and squirming on the part of the company, and much loud talk on the part of Major Monkey, the new army at last stood stretched out in a double line along the pasture-fence. Major Monkey seemed much pleased as he walked up and down in front of his soldiers. And then he happened to glance up. There was Mr. Crow, perched on a limb over his head. "Here, you!" the Major shouted. "Didn't you hear me say 'Fall in?'" "Certainly!" said Mr. Crow. "But I'm a general, you know." "Well, what of that?" the Major snapped. "So are all these people generals! You didn't think--did you?--that I'd have anybody in my army that wasn't at least a general?" For a wonder, Mr. Crow said never a word. He was angry. But he didn't want to be left out of the army. So he decided that he had better obey. And he flapped down and took his place just in front of the front rank. "You mustn't stand there!" Major Monkey said to him severely. "You're late falling in. There's no place left for you. So you'll have to stand behind all the others." That was just a little more than old Mr. Crow could bear. "I'll do nothing of the sort!" he squawked. "And I must say that this is shabby treatment to receive from an old friend." Major Monkey certainly didn't want any trouble right at the beginning. So he hastened to soothe Mr. Crow's wounded feelings. "Look here," he said to the old gentleman, "if I were you I shouldn't care to be a common general." "What else can I be?" asked Mr. Crow with a hopeful gleam in his eye. "You can be the cook," the Major suggested. "There are dozens of generals; but you'd be the only cook, you see." Mr. Crow rather liked that idea. "I accept your offer," he said somewhat stiffly. And then he marched down the line and took his place behind it. Major Monkey breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that the trouble had proved no worse. And now he turned once more to inspect the crowd of generals that was to make up his army. "Here, you!" he said suddenly, pointing to a brownish gentleman at one end of the front rank. "What's your name?" "Rusty Wren!" was the meek reply. "Don't stick your tail up in the air like that!" Major Monkey cried. "You're spoiling the looks of the whole army." Rusty Wren replied that it was very hard for him to keep his tail down for longer than a few moments at a stretch. "I don't believe I'll be in the army," he announced. "Probably my wife is wondering where I am this moment. So I'm going home." And thereupon he flew away toward Farmer Green's dooryard, where he lived. "Well, we're rid of _him_, anyhow," said Major Monkey. And then he noticed something else that wasn't as it should have been. "Here, you!" he called to Peter Mink. "Pull in your neck! It's too long! It sticks out and spoils the looks of the whole army." Now, Peter Mink was a rude fellow. And he made such a rude reply that Major Monkey discharged him on the spot. "Go away!" he cried. "We don't want any rowdies in our army." XI War in the Woods Although Major Monkey had ordered him out of the army, Peter Mink declared that he wasn't going till he was ready to leave. "Very well," said the Major easily. "You may stay here; and we'll go." But Peter Mink was an obstinate fellow. The moment the army started to move, he went along with it. And what was worse, he insisted on walking right behind Major Monkey, and trying to strut just as the Major did. Some of the generals couldn't help snickering. And of course Major Monkey couldn't overlook such behavior. "Order in the ranks!" he shouted as fiercely as he knew how. The generals stopped tittering at once. For a minute or two everybody marched on in silence. And then the cry, "Halt!" rang suddenly out. The generals all stopped. Major Monkey stopped, too. And his face seemed more wrinkled than ever as he looked every general in the face. Naturally, that took some time, for there were several dozens of them. "Who shouted 'Halt?'" the Major asked at last. But nobody knew. At least, nobody answered. And there was a good deal of low talking and craning of necks. For some reason or other, everybody peered at Peter Mink. But he stared straight ahead in the most innocent fashion. Major Monkey said nothing more. But he walked behind the army and picked up a stick. "Forward, march!" he commanded then. And as the army moved on, he continued to walk in the rear, just behind old Mr. Crow. Soon the cry, "Halt!" sounded again. And as soon as he heard it, Major Monkey threw his stick with great force and caught Peter Mink neatly in the back of his head. Peter Mink toppled over where he stood. "There!" Major Monkey remarked. "He won't bother us any more to-day." And before the army had stopped gasping, he marched it forward again, leaving Peter Mink stretched upon the ground. Some of the generals objected, and said that they thought that Peter Mink ought to be looked after. But Major Monkey told them that they were in the army, and that it was _war_, and they must expect even worse things to happen. Now, Jimmy Rabbit was a tender-hearted chap. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving even a rascal like Peter Mink wounded and alone. "I think you ought to send the cook back to take care of him," Jimmy told Major Monkey. At that, Mr. Crow--who was the cook--spoke up and said that he was going to stay with the army. "I don't see," he said, "how you could get along without me. An army without a cook is as good as lost." Major Monkey promptly agreed with Mr. Crow. "Certainly we mustn't get lost," he said. "If we were lost, the enemy never could find us. And we might wander about in the woods for years and years." His remarks made some of the generals a bit uneasy. And one of them--a soldier called Billy Woodchuck--announced that he would have to be leaving. XII Over and Under When Billy Woodchuck talked about leaving the army, Major Monkey became greatly excited. He muttered something under his breath about _deserters_, and _shooting them at sunrise_. And he strutted up to Billy Woodchuck and asked him what he meant by quitting the army without permission. Though Billy Woodchuck hung his head, he insisted that he must go home. "I have an engagement," he explained, "to stand guard in the clover-patch, while my father and some other old gentlemen feast on clover-tops." "Are they expecting an attack?" Major Monkey inquired, pricking up his ears. "Of course not!" said Billy Woodchuck. "They're not _expecting_ one, or they would stay safe at home. But you never can tell what old dog Spot is going to do. My father and his friends would be disappointed if I didn't come. They would be angry, too. And just as likely as not I'd be put to bed an hour before sunset. So I shall go home now, whether you give me leave or not." "Then I'll give you leave--if that's the case," said Major Monkey. "I can't have anybody disobeying orders; so I'll give you leave. And I'll dismiss the army until to-morrow.... The last man over the fence will be shot at sunrise," he added. It seemed as if he was determined to shoot somebody, anyhow. Well, everyone turned and ran like the wind. Naturally, nobody wanted to be last, after what Major Monkey had said. It looked, for a few moments, as if the whole army was going to cross the fence at the same instant. But Billy Woodchuck was so unlucky as to step into a hole. He fell head over heels. And by the time he had picked himself up and reached the fence all the rest were safe on the other side of it. Things looked very dark for Billy Woodchuck--especially when Major Monkey grinned horribly at him between the rails and said: "Too bad, my boy! But this is war, you know.... Please don't forget the time! To-morrow, at sunrise!" Billy Woodchuck's heart sank. He wished he had never joined the army. And then an idea came to him. It was such a simple one that it is a wonder he hadn't thought of it instantly. Instead of going _over_ the fence, to everybody's surprise he squirmed _under_ it. And everybody was vastly relieved. Even Major Monkey appeared to be delighted. "I'm afraid"--he said with a smile--"I'm afraid we'll have to shoot the rest of the army at sunrise, for they went over the fence last." But Mr. Crow spoke up and said: "Nonsense! The rest of us went over _first_!" Major Monkey had to admit that that was true. And he showed plainly that he was disappointed. Although he did not look the least bit cruel, it was clear that he had looked forward to shooting--and the more the merrier. "It's really a great pity," he said, "that we can't have a shot at somebody." XIII The Major Hesitates Major Monkey's army soon became known far and wide. Its fame reached beyond Pleasant Valley, to the other side of Blue Mountain. And a good many persons who had been in the habit of making excursions into the valley now and then began to think that it was a good place to avoid. Old Mr. Crow had a good deal to do with spreading the news. He took several long trips, just to tell people that the army was ready--and eager--to fight all strangers. In fact, the Major said he wished Mr. Crow would mind his own affairs. For how was the army ever going to fight, if all the enemies kept out of its way? All the generals began to tell one another that Major Monkey was a very brave soldier. And certainly he _said_ nothing to change their opinion of him. He was always telling how much he liked to fight, and complaining that he was only wasting his valuable time in Pleasant Valley. In a way the Major was right. And probably there never would have been the least trouble if Johnnie Green and his friends hadn't happened to have a picnic in the woods on the same day and in the same spot that the Major had chosen to call his generals together. [Illustration: "You're a Sneak-Thief!" Jasper Jay said.] Of course, the Major couldn't drill his soldiers with Johnnie Green and a half-dozen other boys on hand to watch. So the generals lurked behind trees and wished that the picnickers would go away. Meanwhile Major Monkey himself sulked in the tree-tops, hidden high up among the leafy branches, where nobody would be likely to spy him. He watched the boys while they ate their luncheon, which they devoured as soon as they reached the picnic grove. And then he looked on while they played games--hide-and-seek, and duck-on-the-rock, and follow-my-leader, and ever so many others. Now and then old Mr. Crow flew up and tried to talk with Major Monkey. But the Major had very little to say. And at last Mr. Crow lost all patience with him. "Are you going to sit here all day and do nothing?" Mr. Crow demanded. "S-sh!" Major Monkey said. "Do be quiet! Do you want them to hear you?" "I don't care if they hear me," Mr. Crow cried. "It's plain to me that these boys will stay here all day if they're not driven away." "No doubt!" Major Monkey agreed, as he plucked a tender shoot off the tree and ate it. "But what can we do?" "Do!" said Mr. Crow. "What's the army for--I'd like to know--if not to fight?" Major Monkey's wrinkled face seemed somewhat pale. "Quite true!" he agreed again. "But I'm not sure we're strong enough to do anything against these ruffians down below. I'm not sure that I can depend on the army in a pinch." To the Major's great alarm, Mr. Crow squalled with rage. "You've insulted me!" he shrieked. And he made such a commotion that Major Monkey scampered off, beckoning to Mr. Crow to follow him. Just as they left, a stone came crashing through the leaves, thrown by some boy who had noticed Mr. Crow's hoarse cries. And that made Major Monkey run all the faster. XIV Throwing Stones Major Monkey never stopped running until he had gone so far that the voices of the picnickers reached him only faintly. Old Mr. Crow, who had followed him closely, began to think that the Major was frightened. But he knew he must be mistaken when Major Monkey came to a halt and said: "Now we can talk without disturbing anybody." So Mr. Crow repeated that in his opinion the Major had insulted him. "You've just the same as said that I'm a poor soldier!" he declared. Major Monkey told him that it was not so. "It's the _generals_ that I can't trust," he explained. "But you are different. You're the cook, you remember. In the midst of a fight, you wouldn't be expected to cook." "Then my part would be to do nothing at all?" Mr. Crow inquired. "Exactly!" Major Monkey cried. "And I've no doubt that you'd be a great success." Old Mr. Crow always liked praise. And of course the Major's remark pleased him. It made him all the more eager, too, to see the army attack Johnnie Green and his friends. "Let's go back," said Mr. Crow, "and drive those boys out of the picnic grove!" But Major Monkey shook his head. "I don't want to lose my army," he said. "And besides we haven't any guns." "You can throw stones, can't you?" Mr. Crow asked him. "Oh, yes!" said the Major. "Well, then--if I were you I'd get some stones down by the brook and go straight back to the grove and hurl them at the enemy." He said so much more that at last Major Monkey yielded. And a little later he crept back through the tree-tops with all the stones he could carry. Hidden high above the heads of the picnic party, Major Monkey gave several short whistles. "The attack!" he whispered to old Mr. Crow, who had returned with him to see the fun. "Hullo!" Johnnie Green shouted, stopping short in the midst of a game of leapfrog. "Who's up there?" And he peered into the greenery above. Nobody seemed to know the answer to his question. Certainly there was nobody missing from the picnic party. "I wonder if it's Red Head!" said Johnnie. "You remember he said he couldn't come because he had work to-day. But he must have sneaked over here ahead of us and climbed a tree." The words were scarcely out of Johnnie Green's mouth when a small stone plunged down from the trees and struck one of his great toes. Being barefooted, Johnnie Green let out a yell. "Ouch!" he cried. "It's Red Head! There's no doubt about it." If anybody else had any doubts, they faded quickly when a small shower of stones descended. "Stop that!" the boys began to shout. "Come down!" And they threatened Red Head with terrible punishments. Of course, Major Monkey was delighted. He knew that his army of generals could see--and hear--everything. And after he had thrown his last stone he felt so bold that he slipped down upon a lower limb, which gave him a better view of the picnic ground. One of the boys caught a glimpse of a queer figure above him. And with a shriek he turned and fled. His companions looked at him in wonder. And Johnnie Green couldn't imagine what had happened, when his staring eyes beheld the Major hanging from a bough over his head. "It's a monkey!" Johnnie Green gasped. "Where in the world could he have come from?" XV The Retreat Major Monkey quite enjoyed the amazement of the picnickers. And he did two very odd things, for the commander of an army: first he took off his red cap and made a low bow to Johnnie Green and his mates; and next he swung off the limb of the tree and hung by his tail and one hand. The boys whooped with delight. "Let's catch him!" Johnnie Green cried. And then he shouted to the boy who had run away, and who stood a good, safe distance off, looking back and wondering what was going on. "Hi, Bill! It's a monkey!" Johnnie bellowed. Bill came running back at top speed. "We're going to catch him," said Johnnie Green. "How're we going to do that?" asked the boy who had been frightened and run away and come back. Nobody answered him, for at that moment one of the youngsters flung a butternut at the Major, who caught the missile deftly and shot it back again. A howl of delight from the ground below greeted the Major's ears. "Let's stone him!" somebody cried. But Johnnie Green said, "No! We don't want to hurt him. We'll climb the tree and get him." His friends agreed that that was the better way, after all. And one after another they began to shin up the tree where Major Monkey was still cutting his queer capers. The boys had no sooner started to climb after him than the Major gave a shrill whistle. He was calling for help. But there was not a general in sight anywhere. He could see not a single one of his whole army, except the cook, old Mr. Crow. And even he flapped away to a neighboring tree-top. As Mr. Crow remarked afterward, since he had to do nothing, he thought he could do it much better if he wasn't too near. Major Monkey began to chatter. And Mr. Crow always declared that the Major trembled. There is no doubt that he was alarmed. He scrambled to the very top of the tree, while the boys went up, up, up--until at last Major Monkey gave a scream and jumped into another--and smaller--tree, the top of which was far below him. He plunged, sprawling, through the leafy boughs until he managed to seize a branch and steady himself. Then he was off like a squirrel. And long before the boys had reached the ground again Major Monkey was far away in the woods. * * * * * Mr. Crow took good care not to lose sight of Major Monkey. And when the Major at last stopped, panting, and slipped down to the ground to have a drink out of the brook, old Mr. Crow promptly joined him. "Aha!" said Mr. Crow. "_You_ were scared. _You_ ran away!" The Major wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and looked at Mr. Crow uneasily. "I _came_ away--yes!" he said. Mr. Crow snorted. "A fine soldier you are!" he cried scornfully. "You aren't brave enough to lead an army. I should think you'd be ashamed." Major Monkey seemed pained. He said it hurt him to have Mr. Crow say such cruel things. "It's plain," said he, "that you don't know much about an army, in spite of all I've tried to teach you. Of course I had to leave. I'm the leader of the army; and I must keep out of danger. So when the generals failed to come to my rescue when I whistled for help there was nothing I could do except retreat." For a long time Mr. Crow was silent. "You were scared, anyway," he remarked at last. "I wasn't!" the Major protested. "You were!" said Mr. Crow. "You were! You were! You were!" Of course he was very ill-mannered. But Major Monkey was too polite to tell him so. Instead, he picked up a smooth stone out of the brook and threw it at Mr. Crow's head. The old gentleman hopped aside just in time. And without waiting to dispute any further, he tore off as fast as he could go. "Now who's scared?" Major Monkey called after him. But old Mr. Crow did not stop to answer. XVI The Major's Trouble After Major Monkey fled from Johnnie Green and his friends in the picnic grove, his generals declared that they wanted no leader that ran away from the enemy. And since they couldn't agree on anyone else to take the Major's place, they disbanded. So Major Monkey lost his army. But the loss did not seem to trouble him greatly. He was almost too cheerful. And his neighbors even claimed that his spirits rose higher each day. There is no doubt that the Major felt very gay. He was fast losing the lean and hungry look he had had when he first appeared in Pleasant Valley. And he became freer than ever as to manners. Nobody else could go about the woods with any comfort, because one never knew when he would have to dodge a stone. For Major Monkey liked nothing better than making a body jump--unless it was bowling someone over when he failed to jump soon enough. In time the forest-folk grew quite weary of that sport. And they began to tell one another that something would have to be done to put an end to Major Monkey's stone-throwing. But nobody could suggest any way to cure Major Monkey of his unpleasant habit. And at last Mr. Crow went to Aunt Polly Woodchuck and asked her if she couldn't give the Major an herb of some sort to eat, which would make him stop wanting to pelt every head he saw. But Aunt Polly replied that it wasn't possible. "The trouble with Major Monkey," she said, "is that he eats too much as it is. And if I gave him still more food he would only throw more stones at you." Mr. Crow exclaimed that he didn't want that to happen. "Then you'll have to make the Major eat less," said Aunt Polly Woodchuck. "On what sort of fare is he living at present?" she inquired. Mr. Crow answered that he wasn't quite sure, but he thought Major Monkey fed for the most part on cowbirds' eggs. Aunt Polly Woodchuck shook her head. "That's not possible," she cried. "There aren't enough Cowbirds' eggs in Pleasant Valley to make anybody so fat as the Major is getting. Unless I'm mistaken, he's taking the eggs of a good many others besides Cowbirds." Mr. Crow became greatly excited. "Then he's a thief!" he squawked. "Major Monkey is an egg thief!" And he flapped away across the pasture in a fine rage, to tell everybody what Aunt Polly Woodchuck had said. * * * * * A little later in the day Major Monkey began to notice that a good many of his neighbors looked at him very coldly. The birds, especially, glared at him as if they were actually angry. And wherever he went they set up a loud twittering. Some of them even flew at his head and tried to peck him as they darted past. At first he couldn't imagine what was the matter. But before the day was done Jasper Jay let him know what made the bird people angry. "You're a sneak-thief!" Jasper told the Major bluntly. "We've found at last what makes you so fat. You've been stealing eggs from every nest in the woods!" "Tut! Tut!" said Major Monkey. "When a lazy Cowbird lays an egg in somebody else's nest, the owner ought to be grateful to me for taking the egg out and eating it." "It's not that," Jasper Jay replied. "The trouble is, you've taken all kinds of eggs." "Well, well!" said Major Monkey. "To be sure, I may have made a mistake now and then. But what's an egg or two, more or less, when one has a half-dozen of them?" XVII Major Monkey Confesses Major Monkey seemed surprised when Jasper Jay told him that there wasn't a bird family in the whole valley that felt it could spare a single egg. "Of course," said Jasper, "nobody cares how many Cowbirds' eggs you eat. The Cowbirds are pests. They are too lazy to build nests of their own. And no respectable bird family likes to have a loutish young Cowbird to bring up with their own children. But you have gone too far. You have been stealing eggs right and left. And the time has come for us to put a stop to your thieving." A number of Jasper Jay's bird neighbors had gathered around him and Major Monkey while they talked. And they all spoke up and said in good, loud tones that Major Monkey was a villain--and worse. Anyone might think that for once the Major would have acted the least bit ashamed. But he did not. He had not even the grace to say that he was sorry for making a few "mistakes." Instead, he stuck his red cap on one side of his head and began dancing something that might have been a jig if it had been faster. His actions made all the birds very angry. And some of them exclaimed that there was no reason to make merry, so far as they could see. Major Monkey promptly stopped dancing and looked grieved. "Perhaps you would dance, too, if you had just had a good meal of eggs," he remarked. A shriek went up from his listeners. And old Mr. Crow exclaimed loudly: "Put him out! Put Major Monkey out!" But nobody made a move. And Major Monkey turned to Mr. Crow and said: "What's wrong? Have I said something I shouldn't?" "Said!" the old gentleman echoed. "You've not only _said_ a terrible thing; you've _done_ a still worse one! For you've just been stealing eggs again--and you can't deny it." A great clamor arose all at once. "Hear! Hear!" Mr. Crow's friends cried. And Major Monkey had hard work to make himself heard. "Whose eggs do you think I've been eating?" he asked Mr. Crow. Not knowing the exact answer to the question, Mr. Crow pretended not to hear it at all. But he looked so slyly at the Major that the Major himself was not deceived. He winked at Mr. Crow and shied a pebble at him. "I'll tell you, old boy!" the Major cried. "I've been eating hens' eggs." "Hens' eggs!" everybody repeated after him. "Hens' eggs! Where do you get 'em?" "At Farmer Green's henhouse, of course," the Major answered. "I've been going there regularly for some time. I find that the eggs are bigger than any I can find in the woods." "It's no wonder he's getting fat," Jasper Jay murmured as he gazed at Major Monkey. "You'll have to stop eating so much," Mr. Crow told the Major solemnly. "Aunt Polly Woodchuck says that the reason you throw so many stones is because you overeat and feel in too high spirits." Major Monkey looked disgusted when he heard that speech. "Aunt Polly Fiddlesticks!" he jeered. "She doesn't know what she's talking about. Why, the more eggs I eat, the more time I must spend at the henhouse. And while I'm there I can't throw stones here, can I?" Everybody had to agree with the Major. At least, everybody but Mr. Crow remarked that what he said seemed true. "Now, friends," said Major Monkey at last, "if there have been any eggs missing from your nests lately you can't blame me." "Then whom can we blame?" somebody cried. "I'd hate to say," was Major Monkey's answer. But since he looked straight at Mr. Crow as he spoke, most of the company could not help thinking that the old gentleman was the thief, after all. And when he flew into a rage they felt quite sure he was guilty. "We always knew Mr. Crow was an old rascal!" they exclaimed. And so Mr. Crow took himself off. But he soon recovered his good spirits. He was used to being called names. And to tell the truth, he had taken a few eggs now and then--when he thought no one was watching. XVIII Planning a Journey After they learned that Major Monkey was in the habit of going to Farmer Green's henhouse for eggs, the wild folk began to have a better opinion of him once more. So long as he didn't steal birds' eggs they were willing to overlook his stone-throwing--if he didn't throw too many. Somehow they never seemed to think of Farmer Green's loss. Or if they did, no doubt they thought that he had so many eggs that he wouldn't mind losing a few now and then. So it happened that Major Monkey found everybody most agreeable--except old Mr. Crow, who never felt the same toward him again. But Major Monkey did not let Mr. Crow's gruffness trouble him. He had so many other cronies that he frequently remarked that he had never spent a pleasanter summer. "I've decided"--he told Jolly Robin one day, when he stopped in the orchard to eat an apple--"I've decided to stay right here in Pleasant Valley for the rest of my life." "My gracious!" Jolly Robin exclaimed. "Then you don't mind cold weather." Major Monkey asked him what he meant. And it surprised him to learn that all winter long deep snow lay upon the ground, and cold winds blew, and fierce storms often raged. Though it was a hot summer's day, Major Monkey shivered at the mere mention of such things. And he pulled his red cap further down upon his head. "If that's the case," he said, "I certainly don't want to spend the winters here.... I don't see how you manage to live through them." Jolly Robin laughed merrily. "Bless you!" he cried. "I don't stay here the year 'round. As soon as it begins to grow chilly I go South, where it's warm." Now, Major Monkey looked worried when he heard about the bitter winters in Pleasant Valley. His queer face had screwed itself into even more wrinkles than it usually wore. But as soon as Jolly Robin spoke of going to a warmer place, the Major brightened at once. "I'm going South too!" he cried. "And if you've no objection we'll travel together." Jolly Robin said that nothing would please him more. "I shall be glad to go with you--if my wife doesn't object," he assured the Major. "Oh! She won't mind," said Major Monkey. "She can go with us. We'll make up a party.... She'll be lucky to go anywhere with such a famous traveller as I am." Jolly Robin said somewhat doubtfully that he hoped Mrs. Robin would accept their plan. And then he dashed Major Monkey's high hopes by remarking, "Of course, we always fly when we go South." The Major's face fell. He looked careworn and unhappy again. "I don't know how to fly," he faltered. "But if you'll fly low, and slowly enough, perhaps I can run through the tree-tops fast enough to keep up with you. I hope it isn't a long trip," he added somewhat anxiously. "It's about a thousand miles," Jolly Robin told him. XIX The Major's Scheme "I never can run a thousand miles through the tree-tops," Major Monkey told Jolly Robin in a tone of great disappointment. "I don't see how I can spend the winter in the South; and I certainly don't want to stay here, if it's as cold as you say." The poor Major looked so glum that Jolly Robin was sorry for him. "Can't you get a ride?" he asked. "I could ride a horse, if I had one," Major Monkey replied. "That's not a bad idea," Jolly Robin said. "But I'm afraid you'd have trouble finding a horse. Farmer Green would scarcely care to spare one of his horses for so long a trip." "Well, I could ride a dog," said Major Monkey. "There's that dog at the farmhouse--old Spot, as you call him. Surely Farmer Green wouldn't mind if I rode _him_ away, for he's nothing but a nuisance." "Why don't you ask Farmer Green?" Jolly Robin suggested. But Major Monkey shook his head. "No!" he said. "No! I don't want to do that yet. Before I speak to Farmer Green I prefer to make sure that old dog Spot is _easy to ride on_." Jolly Robin looked puzzled. His mouth fell open. And for a few moments he stared at Major Monkey without saying a word. [Illustration: The Man Began to Sing a Merry Song] When he finally spoke, it was to ask Major Monkey how he was going to find out what he wanted to know about old dog Spot. "There's only one way," said Major Monkey. "There's only one way; and that's _to ride him and see_." Jolly Robin thought what a bold fellow Major Monkey was. He entirely forgot the Major's flight from the picnic grove. Riding a dog was such a feat as Jolly Robin himself would never, never attempt. And he was sure that if Major Monkey really undertook it there could be no doubt of his bravery. "How do you know"--Jolly asked the Major timidly--"how do you know that old dog Spot will let you ride him?" "Don't you worry about that!" Major Monkey cried lightly, as he swaggered along a limb of the apple tree where they were talking. "Leave that to me." And Jolly Robin thought what a stout heart beat beneath Major Monkey's red coat, and how fine it was to be one of his friends. "I should like to see you when you first ride old Spot," said Jolly Robin. "Delighted, I'm sure!" Major Monkey cried. "And I hope you've no objection to my bringing my wife along, too." Major Monkey was not so sure that he would care to have Mrs. Robin for an onlooker. "Women are likely to be timid," he remarked. "They sometimes scream at the wrong time. And if your wife happened to cry out just as I was about to drop on old Spot's back, he might jump. And that would spoil everything." Jolly Robin decided that Major Monkey knew best. "We'll keep this affair a secret," he whispered. The Major nodded. "And now"--Jolly Robin asked him--"now where and when are you going to ride old Spot?" Shutting his eyes tightly, Major Monkey wrinkled his low forehead until Jolly Robin began to fear that he was in great pain. "Are you ill?" Jolly asked him. "No!" said the Major. "I was only thinking. And it seems to me that the other end of the orchard, toward the farmhouse, would be the best place to begin my ride.... As for the time," he added, "that will be when old Spot happens to come that way." "I'll be there, whenever that may be," Jolly Robin assured him. XX A Fast Ride For once Mrs. Robin had reason to complain that her husband did not do his share of the work. Jolly Robin _would_ spend most of his time at the further end of the orchard, talking with "that good-for-nothing Major Monkey," to use Mrs. Robin's own words. Whenever she flew over to speak to her husband, the Major was most polite to her, never failing to take off his cap and ask after her health. But Mrs. Robin had little to say to him. She had, however, a great deal to say to Jolly Robin. But no matter how much she urged him to stop idling and come home and help her look after their big family, Jolly insisted that he and the Major "had business to attend to." At last, when Mrs. Robin gave up in despair, Jolly began to feel somewhat uncomfortable. And he tried to get Major Monkey to go and ask old dog Spot to come to the orchard, instead of waiting there uncertainly for days and days. But Major Monkey would not consent to such a move. He was quite firm. "I don't want to _ask_ old Spot to give me a ride," he explained. "Then how do you ever expect to get one?" Jolly asked him anxiously. "Oh, there's a way!" was the Major's mysterious reply. And that was all he would say. The longer Jolly Robin waited to see the fun, the more excited he became, and the more Major Monkey seemed to enjoy himself. "Old dog Spot ought to be here soon," the Major kept saying. "I can see him now. No! I'm mistaken." Jolly Robin had so many disappointments that one morning when the Major cried out that at last old Spot was actually crawling through the fence, and would be in the orchard in about a minute and a half, Jolly couldn't believe him. It was true, nevertheless. To Jolly's delight, old dog Spot came darting in and out among the apple trees, with his nose close to the ground. He was following a trail made by Tommy Fox, who had visited the henhouse the night before. And he was so intent on what he was doing that never once did he glance up into the apple trees, where Major Monkey and Jolly Robin were watching him. Major Monkey dropped quickly down to a low-hanging limb. And as luck had it, Tommy Fox's trail led old dog Spot right under the tree where the Major waited, hanging gracefully by his tail and one hand. As old Spot passed below him, Major Monkey loosened his hold on the limb and dropped squarely upon old Spot's back. The moment he landed, the Major dug his fingers into Spot's long fur and hung on grimly. And at the same instant old dog Spot leaped high into the air and let out a frenzied yelp. Jolly Robin was glad that his wife was not present, for he knew that the sight, and the sound too, could not have failed to terrify her. Old Spot seemed almost out of his mind. For a few moments the poor fellow tore about the orchard in wide circles, hoping in vain that he might shake that strange load off his back. But he soon saw that his rider clung to him like a burr. And wheeling suddenly, Spot shot like a streak out of the orchard and flew across the meadow. Just before he disappeared behind a high knoll Major Monkey turned his face over his shoulder and looked behind. Then, holding on with one hand, with the either he waved his red cap at Jolly Robin. The next moment Jolly saw the Major and his strange steed no more. "They headed straight for the river!" Jolly exclaimed. And he felt so worried about his friend the Major that though he went home at once, his wife complained that his mind wasn't on his work and that he was more bother than help to her. Some time later Major Monkey limped back to his home in the haystack, dripping wet. His fine coat was torn. And he had lost his red cap. When Jolly Robin saw him he asked the Major if he had had a good ride. "Well," said Major Monkey, "it was a good one; but it was _too fast_. If I started to travel south on old dog Spot's back I'd reach my journey's end before you had gone half way." "Dear me!" said Jolly Robin. "Then we can't travel together after all." XXI A Sweet Tooth After his ride on old dog Spot, Major Monkey went to the henhouse for eggs even oftener than he had gone before. Perhaps he had become fonder of eggs. Or perhaps he had become bolder. Anyhow, he noticed that old dog Spot gave him a wide berth. Whenever old Spot saw him he tucked his tail between his legs and ran, yelping, into the house. Now, Johnnie Green soon discovered that something--or somebody--was frightening old Spot almost every day. And having nothing else to do one morning, he made up his mind that he would watch and see what happened. So he climbed to the cupola on top of the big barn. And there he stayed for a long time, keeping a sharp eye on old Spot as he wandered about the farm buildings. It was a good while before anything happened. But Johnnie Green did not mind that. He had brought plenty of cookies to munch. And he pretended that he was a sailor in the crow's nest of a ship, on the lookout for a sail. After a while he almost forgot what he was really doing. He was leaning far out of the cupola, shading his eyes with one hand, and stuffing a cookie into his mouth with the other, and gazing off across the meadow, when all at once he heard old Spot yelping. That sound brought Johnnie to his senses. And glancing down, he saw Spot tearing across the barnyard, making for the woodshed door in great bounds. And behind him, perched on the roof of the henhouse, Johnnie saw a familiar figure. "It's the monkey again!" Johnnie Green cried. And he clambered quickly to the ground. But when he reached the henhouse Major Monkey had fled. Johnnie could see his red coat flickering among the leaves in the orchard. But he knew it was useless to follow. Although Major Monkey was aware that Johnnie Green had seen him again, he did not stop visiting the henhouse. To be sure, he became somewhat more wary. He never went inside the henhouse for eggs without first looking around carefully, to make sure that Johnnie Green wasn't watching him. And for a time the Major kept an eye out for traps. He saw nothing of the sort anywhere. But one day when he leaped to the window-sill of the henhouse he was delighted to find a lump of maple sugar, which some one had carelessly left there. At least, that was what the Major supposed. And with something a good deal like a chuckle he ate the dainty greedily. It was the first bit of sugar he had tasted since he came to Pleasant Valley. And Major Monkey was very fond of sweets. Johnnie Green, or his father, or the hired man seemed all at once to grow terribly careless with maple sugar. The Major hardly ever visited the henhouse without finding a lump somewhere. And if his liking for eggs hadn't brought him thither daily, his taste for sugar would have been enough to make him continue his visits. At last there came a day when Major Monkey discovered a thick pitcher on the henhouse floor. A chain was looped through its handle and nailed to the wall. The Major grinned when he saw the chain. "They don't want this pitcher to run away," he said to himself. Being of a most curious turn of mind, he looked into the pitcher. And then he promptly thrust in a hand. There was a good-sized lump of sugar inside. And Major Monkey's fingers closed upon it greedily. His queer face wrinkled with annoyance when he found that he could not withdraw his hand. Empty, it could easily have slipped through the mouth of the pitcher. But with the sugar clutched in it, his hand stuck fast. XXII Caught! Though Major Monkey tugged and tugged, he couldn't pull his hand out of the pitcher. To be sure, if he had let go of the lump of maple sugar he might have withdrawn his hand easily enough. But the Major loved sweets too dearly to loosen his hold on any such toothsome morsel--except to pop it into his mouth. So he struggled and fretted. He even tried to break the pitcher by knocking it against the floor. It might as well have been made of iron, it was so strong. And the Major only succeeded in hurting his own hand. Of course he made a great racket. And the hens, who had become used to his more stealthy visits, began to flutter and squawk. They made such an uproar at last that Major Monkey wanted to hurl the pitcher at them. But he couldn't do that, with his hand stuck inside it. And besides, the pitcher was chained fast to the wall of the henhouse. And right there lay the Major's greatest trouble. If the pitcher hadn't been fastened he would have run off on three legs, to the woods, where he might have tried in peace and quiet to get at the sugar inside it. On the whole, Major Monkey spent a most unhappy quarter of an hour in the henhouse. And the worst moment of all came when the window dropped with a loud bang. Then the sound of steps on the threshold made the Major turn his head. There stood Farmer Green with a broad smile on his face, and Johnnie Green with his mouth wide open and his eyes bulging. And with them was a dark-skinned man, short, and with rings in his ears, and a bright neckerchief tied about his throat. "Aha-a!" cried the little man. "Look-a da monk! He greed-a boy!" And picking Major Monkey up in his arms, jug and all, he patted him fondly, saying, "Ah-a! Bad-a boy! He run-a da way from da ol' man, no?" Then--for a soldier--Major Monkey did a strange thing. He began to whimper. But there is no doubt that he was weeping because he was glad, and not because he was sorry. The little, dark man was his master. And the Major was very, very fond of him. He knew, suddenly, that he had missed the little man sadly while he roamed about Pleasant Valley. Though Johnnie Green was staring straight at him, Major Monkey clung to his captor and held his wrinkled face close to the little man's cheek. "He sorra now!" the little man said to Johnnie Green. "What's his name?" Johnnie inquired. "Jocko!" said Major Monkey's master. "Dat nice-a name, eh?" Johnnie Green thought that it was. And Major Monkey himself appeared to like the sound of it. It was a long time since he had heard it. No one had called him "Jocko" since that day--weeks before--when he had run away from his master, the organ-grinder, in the village. XXIII The Major Goes South Out of one of his pockets the hand-organ man pulled a stout collar, from which dangled a long, thin chain. And Major Monkey made no protest when his master buckled the collar about his neck. To tell the truth, the Major appeared to like being a captive. He was enjoying, especially, the maple sugar which the hand-organ man had turned out of the pitcher for him. At the farmhouse, a little later, Major Monkey went through all his tricks for Johnnie Green and the rest of the family. Though he had once told Mr. Crow that he never wanted to hear the sound of a hand-organ again, the music that his master ground out while he himself capered about seemed to him the sweetest he had ever heard. Of the Major's audience, the most astonished of all sat, unnoticed, in a tree in the dooryard and listened and looked on as if he could scarcely believe his eyes. This one was Jolly Robin. And when, at length, the organ-grinder looped the long chain over his arm, slung the organ over his back, and went toiling up the road, with Major Monkey perched on top of the hand-organ, Jolly Robin had a very queer feeling. He flew down and alighted upon Farmer Greene's fence and trilled a quavering good-by. Major Monkey stood up and made a low bow to him. "He's going South, after all!" Jolly Robin said to himself. If that was so, old dog Spot must have been glad of it. Anyhow, he dashed out of the dooryard and ran a little way up the road, growling and barking, and telling Major Monkey exactly what he thought of him. The Major seemed to enjoy old Spot's farewell. He danced up and down, and pulled back his arm, as if to throw something at Spot. But he changed his mind. He had a red apple, which Johnnie Green had given him. And instead of wasting it on old dog Spot, the Major took a bite out of it then and there. Old Spot had trotted back to the farmhouse, looking very brave, in spite of the scolding Johnnie Green gave him. And Major Monkey was busily engaged with his apple, when he heard a sound that made him look up. "_Caw! Caw!_" It was old Mr. Crow, whose keen eyes had caught sight of the hand-organ man plodding along with his precious load. Major Monkey whistled. And just for a moment, as he watched Mr. Crow sailing lazily overhead, he almost wished that he hadn't been quite so fond of sugar. For he knew that he could no longer wander through Pleasant Valley wherever his fancy led him. But the hand-organ man began singing a merry song. And Major Monkey liked it so well that before he had gone a mile he wouldn't have turned back for anything. Now that his play-time had come to an end, he was eager to journey on, wherever his master might take him. For Major Monkey--as he had told Mr. Crow in the beginning--was a great traveller. THE END Transcriber's Notes 1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards. 2. List of books relocated to after title page. 3. Typographic errors corrected in original: p. 38 whether he he to whether he ("whether he thought it a good one") p. 48 musn't to mustn't ("we mustn't get lost") p. 58 mits to mitts ("pair of black mitts") p. 119 friend' to friend's ("in her friend's eyes") 
26618	----	Transcriber's Note Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. A list of corrections is found at the end of the text. Oe ligatures have been expanded. [Illustration: MONKEY IN CHURCH. Page 88.] [Illustration: MINNIE and her PETS. BY MRS MADELINE LESLIE. MINNIE'S PET MONKEY.] MINNIE'S PET MONKEY. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by A. R. BAKER, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. ELECTROTYPED AT THE BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. TO MY YOUNG FRIEND, HENRY FOWLE DURANT, JR. =These Little Volumes= ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR, IN THE EARNEST HOPE THAT THEY MAY INCREASE IN HIM THAT LOVE OF NATURE AND OF RURAL LIFE WHICH HAS EVER EXERTED SO SALUTARY AN INFLUENCE IN THE FORMATION OF THE CHARACTERS OF THE WISE AND GOOD. MINNIE AND HER PETS. Minnie's Pet Parrot. Minnie's Pet Cat. Minnie's Pet Dog. Minnie's Pet Horse. Minnie's Pet Lamb. Minnie's Pet Monkey. MINNIE'S PET MONKEY. CHAPTER I. JACKO AND HIS WOUNDED TAIL. Did you ever see a monkey? If you have not, I suppose you will like to hear a description of Jacko, Minnie's sixth pet. He was about eighteen inches high, with long arms, covered with short hair, which he used as handily as a boy, flexible fingers, with flat nails, and a long tail, covered with hair, which seemed to answer the purpose of a third hand. Though monkeys are usually very ugly and unpleasant, from their approaching so nearly to the human face, and still bearing so strongly the marks of the mere brute, yet Jacko was a pretty little fellow. He had bright eyes, which sparkled like diamonds from beneath his deep-set eyebrows. His teeth were of the most pearly whiteness, and he made a constant display of them, grinning and chattering continually. But I ought to tell you about his passage in uncle Frank's ship. On one of Captain Lee's voyages, he touched upon the coast of Africa, where he saw the little fellow in a hen-coop, just about to be carried on board a whaler. The gentleman had often thought he should like to carry his favorite niece a little pet; but as she already had a parrot, he did not know what she would wish. But when he listened to the chattering of the monkey, and heard the sailor who owned him say what a funny little animal it was, he thought he would buy it and take it home to her. On the voyage, Jacko met with a sad accident. The hen-coop in which he was confined was too small to contain the whole of his tail, and he was obliged, when he slept, to let the end of it hang out. This was a great affliction to the poor animal, for he was very proud of his tail, which was indeed quite an addition to his good looks. It so happened that there were two large cats on board ship; and one night, as they were prowling about, they saw the tail hanging out while Jacko was sound asleep; and before he had time to move, one of them seized it and bit it off. The monkey was very indignant, and if he could have had a fair chance at his enemies, would have soon punished them for their impudence. It was really amusing to see him afterward. He would pull his bleeding tail in through the bars of the hen-coop, and give it a malicious bite, as much as to say,-- "I wish you were off. You are of no use to me now; and you look terribly short." When they reached New York, at the end of their voyage, Captain Lee took Jacko out of the hen-coop, and put him in a bag, which was carried into the depot while he was purchasing his ticket. The monkey, who must needs see every thing that was going on, suddenly poked his head out of the bag, and gave a malicious grin at the ticket-master. The man was much frightened, but presently recovered himself, and returned the insult by saying,-- "Sir, that's a dog! It's the rule that no dog can go in the cars without being paid for." It was all in vain that the captain tried to convince him that Jacko was not a dog, but a monkey. He even took him out of the bag; but in the face of this evidence, the man would persist in saying,-- "He is a dog, and must have a ticket before he enters the cars." So a ticket was bought, and Jacko was allowed to proceed on his journey. The little fellow was as pleased as the captain when he arrived at the end of his journey, and took possession of his pleasant quarters in the shed adjoining Mr. Lee's fine house. He soon grew fond of his little mistress, and played all manner of tricks, jumping up and down, swinging with his tail, which had begun to heal, and chattering with all his might in his efforts to please her. Mr. Lee, at the suggestion of his brother, the captain, had a nice house or cage made for Minnie's new pet, into which he could be put if he became troublesome, and where he always went to sleep. The rest of the time he was allowed his liberty, as far as his chain would reach. Jacko came from a very warm climate, and therefore often suffered from the cold in the northern latitude to which he had been brought. Mrs. Lee could not endure to see a monkey dressed like a man, as they sometimes are in shows. She said they looked disgustingly; but she consented that the little fellow should have a tight red jacket, and some drawers, to keep him comfortable. Minnie, too, begged from her some old pieces of carpeting, to make him a bed, when Jacko seemed greatly delighted. He did not now, as before, often stand in the morning shaking, and blue with the cold, but laughed, and chattered, and showed his gratitude in every possible way. Not many months after Jacko came, and when he had become well acquainted with all the family, Fidelle had a family of kittens, which she often carried in her mouth back and forth through the shed. The very sight of these little animals seemed to excite Jacko exceedingly. He would spring the entire length of his chain, trying to reach them. One day, when the kittens had begun to run alone, and were getting to be very playful, the cook heard a great noise in the shed, and Fidelle crying with all her might. She ran to see what was the matter, and, to her surprise, found Jacko sitting up in the cage, grinning with delight, while he held one of the kittens in his arms, hugging it as if it had been a baby. Cook knew the sight would please Minnie, and she ran to call her. But the child sympathized too deeply in Fidelle's distress to enjoy it. She tried to get the kitten away from Jacko, but he had no idea of giving it up, until at last, when Mrs. Lee, who had come to the rescue, gave him a piece of cake, of which he was very fond, he relaxed his hold, and she instantly released the poor, frightened little animal. Fidelle took warning by this occurrence, and never ventured through the shed again with her babies, though Jacko might seem to be sound asleep in his cage. Jacko had been at Mr. Lee's more than a year before they knew him to break his chain and run about by himself. The first visit he made was to Leo, in the barn, and he liked it so well that, somehow or other, he contrived to repeat the visit quite as often as it was agreeable to the dog, who never could endure him. After this, he became very mischievous, so that every one of the servants, though they often had a great laugh at his tricks, would have been glad to have the little fellow carried back to his home in Africa. I don't think even Minnie loved her pet monkey as well as she did her other pets. She could not take him in her arms as she did Fidelle and Tiney, nor play with him as she did with Nannie and her lamb, and he could not carry her on his back, as Star did. "Well," she said, one day, after discussing the merits of her animals with her mamma, "Poll talks to me, and Jacko makes me laugh; but if I should have to give up one of my pets, I had rather it would be the monkey." CHAPTER II. JACKO BLACKING THE TABLE. One morning, cook went to her mistress with loud complaints of Jacko's tricks. "What has he been doing now?" inquired the lady, with some anxiety. "All kinds of mischief, ma'am. If I didn't like you, and the master, and Miss Minnie so well, I wouldn't be living in the same house with a monkey, no ways." Here the woman, having relieved her mind, began to relate Jacko's new offence, and soon was joining heartily in the laugh her story caused her mistress. "Since the trickish fellow found the way to undo his chain, ma'am, he watches every thing that is done in the kitchen. Yesterday I polished the range, and the door to the oven. I suppose he saw me at work, and thought it would be good fun; for when I was out of the kitchen hanging some towels to dry on the line, in he walks to the closet where I keep the blacking and brushes, and what should he do but black the table and chairs? Such a sight, ma'am, as would make your eyes cry to see. It'll take me half the forenoon to clean them." "I think you will have to take a little stick, Hepsy," said Mrs. Lee, smiling, "and whip him when he does mischief." "Indeed, ma'am, and it's little strength I'd have left me to do the cooking if I gave him half the whippings he deserves; besides, I'd be sure to get the cratur's ill will; and they say that's unlucky for any one." "What does she mean, mamma, by its being unlucky?" inquired Minnie, when the cook had returned to her work in the kitchen. "I can't say, my dear. You know Hepsy has some strange ideas which she brought with her from Ireland. It may be she has heard of the superstitious reverence some nations have for the monkey." "O, mamma, will you please tell me about it?" "I have read that in many parts of India, monkeys are made objects of worship; and splendid temples are dedicated to their honor. "At one time, when the Portuguese plundered the Island of Ceylon, they found, in one of the temples dedicated to these animals, a small golden casket containing the tooth of a monkey. This was held in such estimation by the natives, that they offered nearly a million of dollars to redeem it. But the viceroy, thinking it would be a salutary punishment to them, ordered it to be burned. "Some years after, a Portuguese, having obtained a similar tooth, pretended that he had recovered the old one, which so rejoiced the priests that they purchased it from him for more than fifty thousand dollars." Minnie laughed. "I should suppose," she said, "that if cook thinks so much of monkeys, she would be pleased to live with them. Do you know any more about monkeys, mamma?" "I confess, my dear, that monkeys have never been among my favorites. There are a great many kinds, but all are mischievous, troublesome, and thievish. The dispositions of some of them are extremely bad, while others are so mild and tractable as to be readily tamed and taught a great variety of tricks. They live together in large groups, leaping with surprising agility from tree to tree. Travellers say it is very amusing to listen to the chattering of these animals, which they compare to the shouting of a grand cavalcade, all speaking together, and yet seeming perfectly to understand one another. "In the countries of the Eastern Peninsula, where they abound, the matrons are often observed, in the cool of the evening, sitting in a circle round their little ones, which amuse themselves with their various gambols. The merriment of the young, as they jump over each other's heads, and wrestle in sport, is most ludicrously contrasted with the gravity of their seniors, who are secretly delighted with the fun, but far too dignified to let it appear. "But when any foolish little one behaves ill, the mamma will be seen to jump into the throng, seize the juvenile by the tail, take it over her knee, and give it a good whipping." "O, how very funny, mamma! I wonder whether Jacko was treated so. Will you please tell me more? I do like to hear about monkeys." "If you will bring me that book from the library next the one about cats, perhaps I can find some anecdotes to read to you." The little girl clapped her hands with delight, and running gayly to the next room, soon returned with the book, when her mother read as follows:-- "A family in England had a pet monkey. On one occasion, the footman retired to his room to shave himself, without noticing that the animal had followed him. The little fellow watched him closely during the process, and noticed where the man put his razor and brush. "No sooner had the footman left the room, than the monkey slyly took the razor, and, mounting on a chair opposite the small mirror, began to scrape away at his throat, as he had seen the man do; but alas! not understanding the nature of the instrument he was using, the poor creature cut so deep a gash, that he bled profusely. He was found in the situation described, with the razor still in his fingers, but unfortunately was too far gone to be recovered, and soon died, leaving a caution to his fellows against playing with edged tools." "I hope Jacko will never see any body shave," said Minnie, in a faltering voice. "Here is a funny story, my dear, about a monkey in the West Indies. The little fellow was kept tied to a stake in the open air, and was frequently deprived of his food by the Johnny Crows. He tried to drive them off, but without success, and at last made the following plan for punishing the thieves. "Perceiving a flock of these birds coming toward him one day just after his food had been brought, he lay down near his stake, and pretended to be dead. For some time, he lay perfectly motionless, when the birds, really deceived, approached by degrees, and got near enough to steal his food, which he allowed them to do. This game he repeated several times, till they became so bold as to come within reach of his claws, when he suddenly sprang up and caught his victim in his firm grasp. Death was not his plan of punishment. He wished to make a man of him, according to the ancient definition, 'a biped without feathers,' and therefore, plucking the crow neatly, he let him go to show himself to his companions. This proved so effectual a punishment, that he was afterwards left to eat his food in peace." "I don't see," said Minnie, thoughtfully, "how a monkey could ever think of such a way." "It certainly does show a great deal of sagacity," responded the lady, "and a great deal of cunning in carrying out his plan." "I hope there are ever so many anecdotes, mamma." Mrs. Lee turned over the leaves. "Yes, my dear," she said, cheerfully, "there are quite a number; some of them seem to be very amusing, but I have only time to read you one more to-day." "Dr. Guthrie gives an amusing account of a monkey named Jack. "Seeing his master and friends drinking whiskey with great apparent relish, he took the opportunity, when he thought he was unseen, to empty their half-filled glasses; and while they were roaring with laughter, he began to hop, skip, and jump. Poor Jack was drunk. "The next day, his master wanted to repeat the experiment, but found Jack had not recovered from the effects of his dissipation. He commanded him to come to the table; but the poor fellow put his hand to his head, and not all their endeavors could induce him to taste another drop all his life. "Jack became a thorough teetotaller." CHAPTER III. JACKO RUNNING AWAY. Minnie had a cousin Frank, the son of Mr. Harry Lee. He was three years older than Minnie, and was full of life and frolic. At one time he came to visit Minnie; and fine fun indeed they had with the pets, the monkey being his especial favorite. Every day some new experiment was to be tried with Jacko, who, as Frank declared, could be taught any thing that they wished. One time, he took the little fellow by the chain for a walk, Minnie gayly running by his side, and wondering what her cousin was going to do. On their way to the barn, they met Leo, who at once began to bark furiously. "That will never do, my brave fellow," exclaimed the boy; "for we want you to turn horse, and take Jacko to ride." "O, Frank! Leo will kill him. Don't do that!" urged Minnie, almost crying. "But I mean to make them good friends," responded the lad. "Here, you take hold of the chain, and I will coax the dog to be quiet while I put Jacko on his back." This was not so easy as he had supposed; for no amount of coaxing or flattery would induce Leo to be impressed into this service. He hated the monkey, and was greatly disgusted at his appearance as he hopped, first on Frank's shoulder, and then to the ground, his head sticking out of his little red jacket, and his face wearing a malicious grin. Finding they could not succeed in this, they went into the stable to visit Star, when, with a quick motion, Jacko twitched the chain from Minnie's hand, and running up the rack above the manger, began to laugh and chatter in great glee. His tail, which had now fully healed, was of great use to him on this occasion, when, to Minnie's great surprise, he clung with it to the bar of the rack, and began to swing himself about. [Illustration: JACKO RUNNING AWAY. Page 52.] "I heard of a monkey once," exclaimed Frank, laughing merrily, "who made great use of his tail. If a nut or apple were thrown to him which fell beyond his reach, he would run to the full length of his chain, turn his back, then stretch out his tail, and draw toward him the coveted delicacy." "Let's see whether Jacko would do so," shouted Minnie, greatly excited with the project. "When we can catch him. But see how funny he looks. There he goes up the hay mow, the chain dangling after him." "If we don't try to catch him, he'll come quicker," said Minnie, gravely. "I know another story about a monkey--a real funny one," added the boy. "I don't know what his name was; but he used to sleep in the barn with the cattle and horses. I suppose monkeys are always cold here; at any rate, this one was; and when he saw the hostler give the horse a nice feed of hay, he said to himself, 'What a comfortable bed that would make for me!' "When the man went away, he jumped into the hay and hid, and every time the horse came near enough to eat, he sprang forward and bit her ears with his sharp teeth. "Of course, as the poor horse couldn't get her food, she grew very thin, and at last was so frightened that the hostler could scarcely get her into the stall. Several times he had to whip her before she would enter it, and then she stood as far back as possible, trembling like a leaf. "It was a long time before they found out what the matter was; and then the monkey had to take a whipping, I guess." "If his mother had been there, she would have whipped him," said Minnie, laughing. "What do you mean?" The little girl then repeated what her mother had told her of the discipline among monkeys, at which he was greatly amused. All this time, they were standing at the bottom of the hay mow, and supposed that Jacko was safe at the top; but the little fellow was more cunning than they thought. He found the window open near the roof, where hay was sometimes pitched in, and ran down into the yard as quick as lightning. The first they knew of it was when John called out from the barnyard, "Jacko, Jacko! Soh, Jacko! Be quiet, sir!" It was a wearisome chase they had for the next hour, and at the end they could not catch the runaway; but at last, when they sat down calmly in the house, he stole back to his cage, and lay there quiet as a lamb. Minnie's face was flushed with her unusual exercise, but in a few minutes she grew very pale, until her mother became alarmed. After a few drops of lavender, however, she said she felt better, and that if Frank would tell her a story she should be quite well. "That I will," exclaimed the boy, eagerly. "I know a real funny one; you like funny stories--don't you?" "Yes, when they're true," answered Minnie. "Well, this is really true. A man was hunting, and he happened to kill a monkey that had a little baby on her back. The little one clung so close to her dead mother, that they could scarcely get it away. When they reached the gentleman's house, the poor creature began to cry at finding itself alone. All at once it ran across the room to a block, where a wig belonging to the hunter's father was placed, and thinking that was its mother, was so comforted that it lay down and went to sleep. "They fed it with goat's milk, and it grew quite contented, for three weeks clinging to the wig with great affection. "The gentleman had a large and valuable collection of insects, which were dried upon pins, and placed in a room appropriated to such purposes. "One day, when the monkey had become so familiar as to be a favorite with all in the family, he found his way to this apartment, and made a hearty breakfast on the insects. "The owner, entering when the meal was almost concluded, was greatly enraged, and was about to chastise the animal, who had so quickly destroyed the work of years, when he saw that the act had brought its own punishment. In eating the insects, the animal had swallowed the pins, which very soon caused him such agony that he died." "I don't call the last part funny at all," said Minnie, gravely. "But wasn't it queer for it to think the wig was its mother?" asked the boy, with a merry laugh. "I don't think it could have had much sense to do that." "But it was only a baby monkey then, Harry." "How did it happen," inquired Mrs. Lee, "that Jacko got away from you?" "He watched his chance, aunty, and twitched the chain away from Minnie. Now he's done it once, he'll try the game again, I suppose, he is so fond of playing us tricks." And true enough, the very next morning the lady was surprised at a visit from the monkey in her chamber, where he made himself very much at home, pulling open drawers, and turning over the contents, in the hope of finding some confectionery, of which he was extremely fond. "Really," she exclaimed to her husband, "if Jacko goes on so, I shall be of cook's mind, and not wish to live in the house with him." CHAPTER IV. THE MONKEY IN CHURCH. One day, Jacko observed nurse washing out some fine clothes for her mistress, and seemed greatly interested in the suds which she made in the progress of her work. Watching his chance, he went to Mrs. Lee's room while the family were at breakfast one morning, and finding some nice toilet soap on the marble washstand, began to rub it on some fine lace lying on the bureau. After a little exertion, he was delighted to find that he had a bowl full of nice, perfumed suds, and was chattering to himself in great glee, when Ann came in and spoiled his sport. "You good for nothing, mischievous creature," she cried out, in sudden wrath, "I'll cure you of prowling about the house in this style." Giving him a cuff across his head with a shoe, "Go back to your cage, where you belong." "Jacko is really getting to be very troublesome," remarked the lady to her husband. "I can't tell how much longer my patience with him will last." "Would Minnie mourn very much if she were to lose him?" asked Mr. Lee. "I suppose she would for a time; but then she has so many pets to take up her attention." Just then the child ran in, her eyes filled with tears, exclaiming,-- "Father, does Jacko know any better? Is he to blame for trying to wash?" Mr. Lee laughed. "Because," she went on, "I found him crouched down in his cage, looking very sorry; and nurse says he ought to be ashamed of himself, cutting up such ridiculous capers." "I dare say he feels rather guilty," remarked Mr. Lee. "He must be taught better, or your mother will be tired of him." When her father had gone to the city, Minnie looked so grave that her mother, to comfort her, took the book and read her some stories. A few of them I will repeat to you. "A lady was returning from India, in a ship on board of which there was a monkey. She was a very mild, gentle creature, and readily learned any thing that was taught her. When she went to lie down at night, she made up her bed in imitation of her mistress, then got in and wrapped herself up neatly with the quilt. Sometimes she would wrap her head with a handkerchief. "When she did wrong, she would kneel and clasp her hands, seeming earnestly to ask to be forgiven." "That's a good story, mamma." "Yes, dear; and here is another." "A gentleman boarding with his wife at a hotel in Paris had a pet monkey, who was very polite. One day his master met him going down stairs; and when the gentleman said 'good morning,' the animal took off his cap and made a very polite bow. "'Are you going away?' asked the owner. 'Where is your passport?' Upon this the monkey held out a square piece of paper. "'See!' said the gentleman; 'your mistress' gown is dusty.' "Jack instantly took a small brush from his master's pocket, raised the hem of the lady's dress, cleaned it, and then did the same to his master's shoes, which were also dusty. "When they gave him any thing to eat, he did not cram his pouches with it, but delicately and tidily devoured it; and when, as frequently occurred, strangers gave him money, he always put it in his master's hands." "Do you think, mamma, I could teach Jacko to do so?" inquired Minnie, eagerly. "I can't say, my dear; and indeed I think it would be hardly worth the pains to spend a great deal of time in teaching him. He seems to learn quite fast enough by himself. Indeed, he is so full of tricks, and so troublesome to cook in hiding her kitchen utensils, I am afraid we shall have to put him in close confinement." "I had rather uncle Frank would carry him back to Africa," sighed the child. "He would be so unhappy." "Well, dear, I wouldn't grieve about it now. We must manage somehow till uncle Frank comes, and then perhaps he can tell us what to do. Now I'll read you another story." "A monkey living with a gentleman in the country became so troublesome that the servants were constantly complaining." "That seems similar to our case," said the lady, smiling, as she interrupted the reading. "One day, having his offers of assistance rudely repulsed, he went into the next house by a window in the second story, which was unfortunately open. Here he pulled out a small drawer, where the lady kept ribbons, laces, and handkerchiefs, and putting them in a foot-tub, rubbed away vigorously for an hour, with all the soap and water there were to be found in the room. "When the lady returned to the chamber, he was busily engaged in spreading the torn and disfigured remnants to dry. "He knew well enough he was doing wrong; for, without her speaking to him, he made off quickly and ran home, where he hid himself in the case of the large kitchen clock. "The servants at once knew he had been in mischief, as this was his place of refuge when he was in disgrace. "One day he watched the cook while she was preparing some partridges for dinner, and concluded that all birds ought to be so treated. He soon managed to get into the yard, where his mistress kept a few pet bantam fowls, and, after eating their eggs, he secured one of the hens, and began plucking it. The noise of the poor bird called some of the servants to the rescue, when they found the half-plucked creature in such a pitiable condition that they killed it at once. After this, Mr. Monkey was chained up, and soon died." Minnie looked very grave after hearing this story, and presently said, "I wonder how old that monkey was." "The book does not mention his age, my dear. Why?" "I was thinking that perhaps, as Jacko grows older, he may learn better; and then I said to myself, 'That one must have been young.'" "If a monkey is really inclined to be vicious, he is almost unbearable," remarked the lady. "His company does not begin to compensate for the trouble he makes. Sometimes he is only cunning, but otherwise mild and tractable." "And which, mamma, do you think Jacko is?" "I have always thought, until lately, that he was one of the better kind; but I have now a good many doubts whether you enjoy her funny tricks enough to compensate cook for all the mischief she does. If I knew any one who wanted a pet monkey, and would treat him kindly, I should be glad to have him go. I should hate to have him killed." "Killed!" screamed Minnie, with a look of horror; "O, mamma, I wouldn't have one of my pets killed for any thing." Mrs. Lee thought that would probably be at some time Nannie's fate, but she wisely said nothing. "Please read more, mamma. I don't want to think about such awful things." The lady cast her eyes over the page, and laughed heartily. Presently she said, "Here is a very curious anecdote, which I will read you; but first I must explain to you what a sounding-board is. "In old fashioned churches, there used to hang, directly over the pulpit, a large, round board, like the top of a table, which, it was thought, assisted the minister's voice to be heard by all the congregation. I can remember, when I was a child, going to visit my grandmother, and accompanying her to church, where there was a sounding-board. I worried, through the whole service, for fear it would fall on the minister's head and kill him. But I will read." "There was once an eminent clergyman by the name of Casaubon, who kept in his family a tame monkey, of which he was very fond. This animal, which was allowed its liberty, liked to follow the minister, when he went out, but on the Sabbath was usually shut up till his owner was out of sight, on his way to church. "But one Sabbath morning, when the clergyman, taking his sermon under his arm, went out, the monkey followed him unobserved, and watching the opportunity while his master was speaking to a gentleman on the steps, ran up at the back of the pulpit, and jumped upon the sounding-board. "Here he gravely seated himself, looking round in a knowing manner on the congregation, who were greatly amused at so strange a spectacle. "The services proceeded as usual, while the monkey, who evidently much enjoyed the sight of so many people, occasionally peeped over the sounding-board, to observe the movements of his master, who was unconscious of his presence. "When the sermon commenced, many little forms were convulsed with laughter, which conduct so shocked the good pastor, that he thought it his duty to administer a reproof, which he did with considerable action of his hands and arms. "The monkey, who had now become familiar with the scene, imitated every motion, until at last a scarcely suppressed smile appeared upon the countenance of most of the audience. This occurred, too, in one of the most solemn passages in the discourse; and so horrible did the levity appear to the good minister, that he launched forth into violent rebuke, every word being enforced by great energy of action. "All this time, the little fellow overhead mimicked every movement with ardor and exactness. "The audience, witnessing this apparent competition between the good man and his monkey, could no longer retain the least appearance of composure, and burst into roars of laughter, in the midst of which one of the congregation kindly relieved the horror of the pastor at the irreverence and impiety of his flock, by pointing out the cause of the merriment. "Casting his eyes upward, the minister could just discern the animal standing on the end of the sounding-board, and gesturing with all his might, when he found it difficult to control himself, though highly exasperated at the occurrence. He gave directions to have the monkey removed, and sat down to compose himself, and allow his congregation to recover their equanimity while the order was being obeyed." CHAPTER V. JACKO IN THE PANTRY. In his frequent visits to the stable, Jacko amused himself by catching mice that crept out to pick up the corn. The servants, having noticed his skill, thought they would turn it to good account, and having been troubled with mice in the pantry, determined to take advantage of the absence of Mrs. Lee on a journey, and shut the monkey up in it. So, one evening, they took him out of his comfortable bed, and chained him up in the larder, having removed every thing except some jam pots, which they thought out of his reach, and well secured with bladder stretched over the top. Poor Jacko was evidently much astonished, and quite indignant, at this treatment, but presently consoled himself by jumping into a soup tureen, where he fell sound asleep, while the mice scampered all over the place. As soon as it was dawn, the mice retired to their holes. Jacko awoke shivering with cold, stretched himself, and then, pushing the soup tureen from the shelf, broke it to pieces. After this achievement, he began to look about for something to eat, when he spied the jam pots on the upper shelf. "There is something good," he thought, smelling them. "I'll see." His sharp teeth soon worked an entrance, when the treasured jams, plums, raspberry, strawberry, candied apricots, the pride and care of the cook, disappeared in an unaccountably short time. At last, his appetite for sweets was satisfied, and coiling his tail in a corner, he lay quietly awaiting the servant's coming to take him out. Presently he heard the door cautiously open, when the chamber girl gave a scream of horror as she saw the elegant China dish broken into a thousand bits, and lying scattered on the floor. She ran in haste to summon Hepsy and the nurse, her heart misgiving her that this was not the end of the calamity. They easily removed Jacko, who began already to experience the sad effects of overloading his stomach, and then found, with alarm and grief, the damage he had done. For several days the monkey did not recover from the effects of his excess. He was never shut up again in the pantry. When Mrs. Lee returned she blamed the servants for trying such an experiment in her absence. Jacko was now well, and ready for some new mischief; and Minnie, who heard a ludicrous account of the story, laughed till she cried. She repeated it, in great glee, to her father, who looked very grave as he said, "We think a sea voyage would do the troublesome fellow good; but you shall have a Canary or a pair of Java sparrows instead." "Don't you know any stories of good monkeys, father?" "I don't recollect any at this moment, my dear; but I will see whether I can find any for you." He opened the book, and then asked,-- "Did you know, Minnie, that almost all monkeys have bags or pouches in their cheeks, the skin of which is loose, and when empty makes the animal look wrinkled?" "No, sir; I never heard about it." "Yes, that is the case. He puts his food in them, and keeps it there till he wishes to devour it. "There are some kinds, too, that have what is called prehensile tails; that is, tails by which they can hang themselves to the limb of a tree, and which they use with nearly as much ease as they can their hands. The facility which this affords them for moving about quickly among the branches of trees is astonishing. The firmness of the grasp which it makes is very surprising; for if it winds a single coil around a branch, it is quite sufficient, not only to support its weight, but to enable it to swing in such a manner as to gain a fresh hold with its feet." "I'm sure, father," eagerly cried Minnie, "that Jacko has a prehensile tail, for I have often seen him swing from the ladder which goes up the hay mow." "I dare say, child. He seems to be up to every thing. But here is an account of an Indian monkey, of a light grayish yellow color, with black hands and feet. The face is black, with a violet tinge. This is called Hoonuman, and is much venerated by the Hindoos. They believe it to be one of the animals into which the souls of their friends pass at death. If one of these monkeys is killed, the murderer is instantly put to death; and, thus protected, they become a great nuisance, and destroy great quantities of fruit. But in South America, monkeys are killed by the natives as game, for the sake of the flesh. Absolute necessity alone would compel us to eat them. A great naturalist named Humboldt tells us that their manner of cooking them is especially disgusting. They are raised a foot from the ground, and bent into a sitting position, in which they greatly resemble a child, and are roasted in that manner. A hand and arm of a monkey, roasted in this way, are exhibited in a museum in Paris." "Monkeys have a curious way of introducing their tails into the fissures or hollows of trees, for the purpose of hooking out eggs and other substances. On approaching a spot where there is a supply of food, they do not alight at once, but take a survey of the neighborhood, a general cry being kept up by the party." CHAPTER VI. THE CRUEL MONKEY. One afternoon, Minnie ran out of breath to the parlor. "Mamma," she exclaimed, "cook says monkeys are real cruel in their families. Is it true?" The lady smiled. "I suppose, my dear," she responded, "that there is a difference of disposition among them. I have heard that they are very fond of their young, and that, when threatened with danger, they mount them on their back, or clasp them to their breast with great affection. "But I saw lately an anecdote of the cruelty of a monkey to his wife, and if I can find the book, I will read it to you." "There is an animal called the fair monkey, which, though the most beautiful of its tribe, is gloomy and cruel. One of these, which, from its extreme beauty and apparent gentleness, was allowed to ramble at liberty over a ship, soon became a great favorite with the crew, and in order to make him perfectly happy, as they imagined, they procured him a wife. "For some weeks, he was a devoted husband, and showed her every attention and respect. He then grew cool, and began to use her with much cruelty. His treatment made her wretched and dull. "One day, the crew noticed that he treated her with more kindness than usual, but did not suspect the wicked scheme he had in mind. At last, after winning her favor anew, he persuaded her to go aloft with him, and drew her attention to an object in the distance, when he suddenly gave her a push, which threw her into the sea. "This cruel act seemed to afford him much gratification, for he descended in high spirits." "I should think they would have punished him," said Minnie, with great indignation. "Perhaps they did, love. At any rate, it proves that beauty is by no means always to be depended upon." Mrs. Lee then took her sewing, but Minnie plead so earnestly for one more story, a good long one, that her mother, who loved to gratify her, complied, and read the account which I shall give you in closing this chapter on Minnie's pet monkey. "A gentleman, returning from India, brought a monkey, which he presented to his wife. She called it Sprite, and soon became very fond of it. "Sprite was very fond of beetles, and also of spiders, and his mistress used sometimes to hold his chain, lengthened by a string, and make him run up the curtains, and clear out the cobwebs for the housekeeper. "On one occasion, he watched his opportunity, and snatching the chain, ran off, and was soon seated on the top of a cottage, grinning and chattering to the assembled crowd of schoolboys, as much as to say, 'Catch me if you can.' He got the whole town in an uproar, but finally leaped over every thing, dragging his chain after him, and nestled himself in his own bed, where he lay with his eyes closed, his mouth open, his sides ready to burst with his running. "Another time, the little fellow got loose, but remembering his former experience, only stole into the shed, where he tried his hand at cleaning knives. He did not succeed very well in this, however, for the handle was the part he attempted to polish, and, cutting his fingers, he relinquished the sport. "Resolved not to be defeated, he next set to work to clean the shoes and boots, a row of which were awaiting the boy. But Sprite, not remembering all the steps of the performance, first covered the entire shoe, sole and all, with the blacking, and then emptied the rest of the Day & Martin into it, nearly filling it with the precious fluid. His coat was a nice mess for some days after. "One morning, when the servants returned to the kitchen, they found Sprite had taken all the kitchen candlesticks out of the cupboard, and arranged them on the fender, as he had once seen done. As soon as he heard the servants returning, he ran to his basket, and tried to look as though nothing had happened. "Sprite was exceedingly fond of a bath. Occasionally a bowl of water was given him, when he would cunningly try the temperature by putting in his finger, after which he gradually stepped in, first one foot, then the other, till he was comfortably seated. Then he took the soap and rubbed himself all over. Having made a dreadful splashing all around, he jumped out and ran to the fire, shivering. If any body laughed at him during this performance, he made threatening gestures, chattering with all his might to show his displeasure, and sometimes he splashed water all over them. "Poor Sprite one day nearly committed suicide. As he was brought from a very warm climate, he often suffered exceedingly, in winter, from the cold. "The cooking was done by a large fire on the open hearth, and as his basket, where he slept, was in one corner of the kitchen, before morning he frequently awoke shivering and blue. The cook was in the habit of making the fire, and then returning to her room to finish her toilet. "One morning, having lighted the pile of kindlings as usual, she hung on the tea-kettle and went out, shutting the door carefully behind her. "Sprite thought this a fine opportunity to warm himself. He jumped from his basket, ran to the hearth, and took the lid of the kettle off. Cautiously touching the water with the tip of his finger, he found it just the right heat for a bath, and sprang in, sitting down, leaving only his head above the water. "This he found exceedingly comfortable for a time; but soon the water began to grow hot. He rose, but the air outside was so cold, he quickly sat down again. He did this several times, and would, no doubt, have been boiled to death, and become a martyr to his own want of pluck and firmness in action, had it not been for the timely return of the cook, who, seeing him sitting there almost lifeless, seized him by the head and pulled him out. "He was rolled in blankets, and laid in his basket, where he soon recovered, and, it is to be hoped, learned a lesson from this hot experience, not to take a bath when the water is on the fire." CHAPTER VII. KEES STEALING EGGS. When Minnie was nine years of age, she accompanied her parents to a menagerie, and there, among other animals, she saw a baboon. She was greatly excited by his curious, uncouth manoeuvres, asking twenty questions about him, without giving her father time to answer. On their way home, she inquired,-- "Are baboons one kind of monkeys, father?" "Yes, my daughter; and a more disagreeable, disgusting animal I cannot conceive of." "I hope you are not wishing for a baboon to add to your pets," added her mother, laughing. "I don't believe Jacko would get along with that great fellow at all," answered the child. "But, father, will you please tell me something more about the curious animals?" The conversation was here interrupted by seeing that a carriage had stopped just in front of their own, and that quite a crowd had gathered about some person who seemed to be hurt. Minnie's sympathies were alive in an instant. She begged her father to get out, as possibly he might be of some use. The driver stopped of his own accord, and inquired what had happened, and then they saw that it was a spaniel that was hurt. He had been in the road, and not getting out of the way quick enough, the wheel had gone over his body. The young lady who was in the buggy was greatly distressed, from which Minnie argued that she was kind to animals, and that they should like her. The owner of the dog held the poor creature in her arms, though it seemed to be in convulsions, and wept bitterly as she found it must die. Mr. Lee, to please his little daughter, waited a few minutes; but he found her getting so much excited over the suffering animal, he gave John orders to proceed. During the rest of the drive, she could talk of nothing else, wondering whether the spaniel was alive now, or whether the young man in the buggy paid for hurting it. The next day, however, having made up her mind that the poor creature must be dead, and his sufferings ended, and having given Tiney many admonitions to keep out of the road when carriages were passing, her thoughts turned once more to the baboon. Mr. Lee found in his library a book which gave a short account of the animal, which he read to her. "The baboon is of the monkey tribe, notwithstanding its long, dog-like head, flat, compressed cheeks, and strong and projecting teeth. The form and position of the eyes, combined with the similarity of the arms and hands, give to these creatures a resemblance to humanity as striking as it is disgusting." "Then follows an account," the gentleman went on, "of the peculiarities of different kinds of baboons, which you would not understand." "But can't you tell me something about them yourself, father?" "I know very little about the creatures, my dear; but I have read that they are exceedingly strong, and of a fiery, vicious temper. "They can never be wholly tamed, and it is only while restraint of the severest kind is used, that they can be governed at all. If left to their own will, their savage nature resumes its sway, and their actions are cruel, destructive, and disgusting." "I saw the man at the menagerie giving them apples," said Minnie; "but he did not give them any meat all the time I was there." "No; they subsist exclusively on fruits, seeds, and other vegetable matter. In the countries where they live, especially near the Cape of Good Hope, the inhabitants chase them with dogs and guns in order to destroy them, on account of the ravages they commit in the fields and gardens. It is said that they make a very obstinate resistance to the dogs, and often have fierce battles with them; but they greatly fear the gun. "As the baboon grows older, instead of becoming better, his rage increases, so that the slightest cause will provoke him to terrible fury." "Is that all you know about them?" "Why, Minnie, in order to satisfy you, any one must become a walking encyclopædia. What other question have you to ask?" "Why, they must have something to eat, and how are they to get it unless they go into gardens?" Mr. Lee laughed aloud. "I rather think I should soon convince them they were not to enter my garden," he said, emphatically. "But seriously, they descend in vast numbers upon the orchards of fruit, destroying, in a few hours, the work of months, or even of years. In these excursions, they move on a concerted plan, placing sentinels on commanding spots, to give notice of the approach of an enemy. As soon as he perceives danger, the sentinel gives a loud yell, and then the whole troop rush away with the greatest speed, cramming the fruit which they have gathered into their cheek pouches." Minnie looked so much disappointed when he ceased speaking, that her mother said, "I read somewhere an account of a baboon that was named Kees, who was the best of his kind that I ever heard of." "Yes, that was quite an interesting story, if you can call it to mind," said the gentleman, rising. "It was in a book of travels in Africa," the lady went on. "The traveller, whose name was Le Vaillant, took Kees through all his journey, and the creature really made himself very useful. As a sentinel, he was better than any of the dogs. Indeed, so quick was his sense of danger, that he often gave notice of the approach of beasts of prey, when every thing was apparently secure. "There was another way in which Kees made himself useful. Whenever they came across any fruits or roots with which the Hottentots were unacquainted, they waited to see whether Kees would taste them. If he threw them down, the traveller concluded they were poisonous or disagreeable, and left them untasted. "Le Vaillant used to hunt, and frequently took Kees with him on these excursions. The poor fellow understood the preparations making for the sport, and when his master signified his consent that he should go, he showed his joy in the most lively manner. On the way, he would dance about, and then run up into the trees to search for gum, of which he was very fond. "I recall one amusing trick of Kees," said the lady, laughing, "which pleased me much when I read it. He sometimes found honey in the hollows of trees, and also a kind of root of which he was very fond, both of which his master insisted on sharing with him. On such occasions, he would run away with his treasure, or hide it in his pouches, or eat it as fast as possible, before Le Vaillant could have time to reach him. "These roots were very difficult to pull from the ground. Kees' manner of doing it was this. He would seize the top of the root with his strong teeth, and then, planting himself firmly against the sod, drew himself gradually back, which forced it from the earth. If it proved stubborn, while he still held it in his teeth he threw himself heels over head, which gave such a concussion to the root that it never failed to come out. "Another habit that Kees had was very curious. He sometimes grew tired with the long marches, and then he would jump on the back of one of the dogs, and oblige it to carry him whole hours. At last the dogs grew weary of this, and one of them determined not to be pressed into service. He now adopted an ingenious artifice. As soon as Kees leaped on his back, he stood still, and let the train pass without moving from the spot. Kees sat quiet, determined that the dog should carry him, until the party were almost out of sight, and then they both ran in great haste to overtake their master. "Kees established a kind of authority over the dogs. They were accustomed to his voice, and in general obeyed without hesitation the slightest motions by which he communicated his orders, taking their places about the tent or carriage, as he directed them. If any of them came too near him when he was eating, he gave them a box on the ear, and thus compelled them to retire to a respectful distance." "Why, mother, I think Kees was a very good animal, indeed," said Minnie, with considerable warmth. "I have told you the best traits of his character," she answered, smiling. "He was, greatly to his master's sorrow, an incurable thief. He could not be left alone for a moment with any kind of food. He understood perfectly how to loose the strings of a basket, or to take the cork from a bottle. He was very fond of milk, and would drink it whenever he had a chance. He was whipped repeatedly for these misdemeanors, but the punishment did him no good. "Le Vaillant was accustomed to have eggs for his breakfast; but his servants complained one morning there were none to be had. Whenever any thing was amiss, the fault was always laid to Kees, who, indeed, generally deserved it. The gentleman determined to watch him. "The next morning, hearing the cackling of a hen, he started for the place; but found Kees had been before him, and nothing remained but the broken shell. Having caught him in his pilfering, his master gave him a severe beating; but he was soon at his old habit again, and the gentleman was obliged to train one of his dogs to run for the egg as soon as it was laid, before he could enjoy his favorite repast. "One day, Le Vaillant was eating his dinner, when he heard the voice of a bird, with which he was not acquainted. Leaving the beans he had carefully prepared for himself on his plate, he seized his gun, and ran out of the tent. In a short time he returned, with the bird in his hand, but found not a bean left, and Kees missing. "When he had been stealing, the baboon often staid out of sight for some hours; but, this time, he hid himself for several days. They searched every where for him, but in vain, till his master feared he had really deserted them. On the third day, one of the men, who had gone to a distance for water, saw him hiding in a tree. Le Vaillant went out and spoke to him, but he knew he had deserved punishment, and he would not come down; so that, at last, his master had to go up the tree and take him." "And was he whipped, mother?" "No; he was forgiven that time, as he seemed so penitent. There is only one thing more I can remember about him. An officer who was visiting Le Vaillant, wishing to try the affection of the baboon for his master, pretended to strike him. Kees flew into a violent rage, and from that time could never endure the sight of the officer. If he only saw him at a distance, he ground his teeth, and used every endeavor to fly at him; and had he not been chained, he would speedily have revenged the insult." * * * * * "Nature is man's best teacher. She unfolds Her treasures to his search, unseals his eye, Illumes his mind, and purifies his heart,-- An influence breathes from all the sights and sounds Of her existence; she is wisdom's self." * * * * * "There's not a plant that springeth But bears some good to earth; There's not a life but bringeth Its store of harmless mirth; The dusty wayside clover Has honey in her cells,-- The wild bee, humming over, Her tale of pleasure tells. The osiers, o'er the fountain, Keep cool the water's breast, And on the roughest mountain The softest moss is pressed. Thus holy Nature teaches The worth of blessings small; That Love pervades, and reaches, And forms the bliss of all." MRS. LESLIE'S JUVENILE SERIES. 16mo. FOR BOYS. Vol. I. THE MOTHERLESS CHILDREN. " II. PLAY AND STUDY. " III. HOWARD AND HIS TEACHER. " IV. JACK, THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER. FOR GIRLS. Vol. I. TRYING TO BE USEFUL. " II. LITTLE AGNES. " III. I'LL TRY. " IV. ART AND ARTLESSNESS. MINNIE'S PET CAT. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. MINNIE'S PET PARROT. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. MINNIE'S PET DOG. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. MINNIE'S PET LAMB. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. MINNIE'S PET HORSE. BY MRS. MADELINE LESLIE, AUTHOR OF "THE LESLIE STORIES," "TIM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER," ETC. ILLUSTRATED. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, SUCCESSORS TO PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 1864. Transcriber's Note The following typographical errors were corrected: Page Error 73 "good morning," changed to 'good morning,' 112 pet monkey." changed to pet monkey. 
29254	----	[Transcriber's Note: Incorrect page numbers in the list of illustrations have been changed.] [Illustration: THE MONKEY THAT WOULD NOT KILL by Henry Drummond] THE MONKEY THAT WOULD NOT KILL [Illustration: WITH THE STONE IN HIS ARMS HE WALKED CALMLY TOWARDS THE SHORE] THE MONKEY THAT WOULD NOT KILL BY HENRY DRUMMOND With Sixteen Full-page Illustrations BY LOUIS WAIN NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1915 _Copyright, 1897,_ By Dodd, Mead and Company. PREFACE A few years ago, the readers of "Wee Willie Winkie" detected a new vein running through the Editorial Notes and announcements which prefaced the monthly collection of juvenile literary efforts, which made up their little Magazine. There was an originality and a humour which they had not noticed before, and Competitions were suggested to them of a type for a repetition of which they clamoured. And then presently a new serial story began, and the hairbreadth escapes of that immortal Monkey which it recorded were breathlessly followed by Wee Willie Winkie's army of bairns all over the world; and when it was concluded, so numerous were the entreaties for a sequel, that compulsion had to be resorted to in order to secure the revelation of the later life of the hero under a new name. And now at last the Editors who were responsible for the periodical referred to have to make a confession. Once upon a time they both, mother and daughter, forsook their office and went away to Canada for several months in 1891, and during that time their joint editorial chair was occupied by no other than Professor Henry Drummond. And now our readers will understand to whom they are indebted for the quaint sayings and funny stories and Competitions betokening someone who "understood" boys--and girls too. And they will be grateful to a certain contributor who failed to send his copy in time for the monthly issue on one occasion, and so forced the then Editor to sit down and write "something." It was the first time he had ever tried to write fiction, and as the story grew under his pen, he began to realise the joy of creation. And so it was that, in spite of his playful deprecation of "such nonsense" being printed, the adventures of "the Monkey that would not kill" came to be told, and we know that we can do our old friends and readers no greater kindness than to dedicate these chronicles to them in permanent form, in memory of one to whom "Wee Willie" and his bairns were ever a subject of affectionate interest. ISHBEL ABERDEEN, MARJORIE A. H. GORDON, _Editors of_ "_Wee Willie Winkie_." Government House, Ottawa, _November, 1897_. CONTENTS I PAGE THE MONKEY THAT WOULD NOT KILL 1 II GUM 57 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS WITH THE STONE IN HIS ARMS HE WALKED CALMLY TOWARDS THE SHORE _Frontispiece_ PAGE TRICKY UPSET EVERYTHING 5 NEXT MORNING TRICKY WAS STILL THERE 13 IT WAS ONLY TRICKY SHAKING THE SALT-WATER OFF 17 HE BEGAN WITH THE PARROT 21 THE SHEPHERD BOLTED LIKE WILDFIRE 25 ALL WAS READY 33 HE TOOK MONKEY AND STONE AND HEAVED THEM OVER THE CLIFF 43 TRICKY HELD BACK THE BABY 55 THE MONKEY'S RESCUE 63 A MONKEY PERFORMING GYMNASTIC EXERCISES 71 BURIED HIS TEETH IN THE CONDUCTOR'S WRIST 77 THE NUGGET OF GOLD 85 POINTING A LOADED REVOLVER AT HIS HEAD 89 THE CAN OF GUNPOWDER TIED TO HIS TAIL 103 THE MOST PRECIOUS OF ALL IS GUM 113 CHAPTER I There is no such thing as an immortal monkey, but this monkey was as near it as possible. Talk of a cat's nine lives--this monkey had ninety! A monkey's business in the world is usually to make everybody merry, but the special mission of this one, I fear, was to make everybody as angry as ever they could be. In wrath-producing power, in fact, this monkey positively shone. How many escapes the monkey had before the run-away slave presented it to the missionary--from whom I first heard of it--no one knows. It certainly had not much hair on when it arrived, and there was an ominous scar on its head, and its ears were not wholly symmetrical. But the children were vastly delighted with it, and after much kind treatment the creature was restored to rude health, and, I must confess, to quite too rude spirits. The children wanted him baptized by the time-honoured title of 'Jacko'; but by a series of exploits in which the monkey distinguished himself at the expense of every member of the household in turn, it became evident that only one name would fit a quadruped of his peculiar disposition; and that was 'Tricky.' Tricky, therefore, he was called, and as Tricky he lived and--did _not_ die. [Illustration: TRICKY UPSET EVERYTHING] There was no peace in the home after Tricky came. He ate everything, upset everything, broke everything, stole everything, did everything that the average monkey ought not to do. If they shut him up in a room, Tricky got out by the chimney. If they put him out of the room, Tricky came in by the chimney. What could you do with such a creature? He could not be kept in, and he could not be kept out; so a court-martial was held, and Tricky was sentenced to be given away. But by this time the whole place knew Tricky, and no one would have him. Such an unusual refusal of a present was never known before. Even the run-away slave smiled sweetly when his old friend was offered to him, and protested that, to his deep regret, he was unable to buy nuts enough to keep him. The idea of 'wandering' Tricky in the woods, of course, occurred to the genius of the village, and a detachment of boys set off one Saturday to carry it into effect. But you might as well have tried to wander a carrier pigeon. Like Mary's little lamb, everywhere these boys went, that monkey went. When they ran, it ran, when they doubled back, it doubled back; and when they got home, dead tired, it was only to find Tricky laughing at them from the church roof. That night the worst happened. When the people assembled for the weekly meeting, there was not found in that church one whole hymn-book. Some one, apparently, had been pelting the pulpit with them. The cushions were torn; the blinds were a wreck; two stops in the harmonium were pulled out bodily. After the service the missionary was solemnly waited on by a deputation. They were closeted for an hour and a half, but no one, except themselves, ever knew what was said or done. The only circumstances that one could in any way connect with this mysterious council was that about midnight a small boat was seen stealthily putting out to sea. It contained two figures--one, who rowed, was the senior elder; the other, who sat in the stern, looked like a very small boy. CHAPTER II The day was not yet broken when the 'watch' of the ship _Vulcan_, lying becalmed off the ---- coast, was roused by a peculiar noise aft. Going to the spot he was surprised to find a much-bedraggled monkey rubbing itself on a pile of sail-cloth. The creature had evidently swum or drifted a long distance, and was now endeavouring to restore circulation. Jerry, being a humane man, got it some biscuit, and a saucer of grog, and waited developments. These were not slow to show themselves; within twenty-four hours the commander of the ship _Vulcan_, 740 tons register, was a monkey named Tricky. Time would fail me to tell of the life that monkey led them all on board the _Vulcan_. After the first week only two things lay between him and death at any moment. One was his inventiveness. Tricky's wickedness was nothing, if not original. Every day he was at some new villainy; and anything _new_ on board ship is sacred. There is no _Punch_ published on board ship; but Tricky was all the comic papers rolled into one. But that was not the main reason. There is a good deal of quiet quarrelling on board ship. The mate spared Tricky because he thought he would some day give the Captain a 'turn'; the Captain let him live, hoping he would do something dreadful to the mate. Everybody waited to see Tricky do something to somebody else. So he rose to the highest rank in the merchant-marine, and was respected almost to idolatry by all on board the _Vulcan_. One day Tricky was hanged--formally, deliberately, and judicially hanged. What had he done? He had killed the ship cat. It was a deliberate murder, with no extenuating circumstances, and a rope, with a noose, was swung over the yard-arm, and Tricky run up in the presence of all the crew. This happened about eight bells, and at dusk Tricky was still hanging there, very quiet and motionless. Next morning Tricky was still there--as live as you are. Tricky was not hanged, he was only hanging; and, as everybody knows, monkeys rather like hanging. In fact, though Tricky was still up there, he had got his hands well round the rope, and was on the whole fairly at home. The rope round a neck like Tricky's was a mere boa. [Illustration: NEXT MORNING TRICKY WAS STILL THERE] The executioners were rather ashamed of themselves when they saw how matters stood; but instead of softening them, this dangling mockery of a dead monkey still further roused their wrath, and the boatswain was told off to end the drama by tossing Tricky into the sea. The boatswain was up the shrouds in a moment, and loosening the rope with one hand, and catching the monkey by the tail with the other, he swung poor Tricky a good yard over the ship's side into the Atlantic. When the boatswain descended upon the deck he was greeted with a sudden deluge of rain. It was only Tricky shaking the salt-water off. The monkey had climbed up the stern rope, and reached the deck before him. What would have happened next is hard to predict, but at this point the Captain, attracted by the scream of laughter which greeted the drenching of the boatswain, came up and was told the sequel to the hanging. Now the Captain was a blunt, good-natured man, and he avowed that neither man nor monkey who had ever been hanged on board his ship should ever be put to death again. This was the law on shore, he said, and he would see fair-play. So Tricky received another lease of life, and thus the ship _Vulcan_ was kept in hot water for two months more. [Illustration: IT WAS ONLY TRICKY SHAKING THE SALT-WATER OFF] About the end of that period there came a crisis. The ship was nearing port, and a heavy cleaning was in progress. Among other things the ship's boats had to be painted. In an evil hour one of the men went below to dinner, and left his paint-pot standing on the deck. If Tricky had lost such a chance he would not have been a monkey at all. Needless to say he rose to the occasion. That his supreme hour was come was quite evident from the way he set to work at once. He began with the parrot, which he painted vermilion; then he passed the brush gaily along the newly varnished wood-work--daubed the masts and shrouds all over, obliterated the name on the life-buoys, and wound up a somewhat successful performance by emptying the pot over the Captain's best coat, which was laid in the sun to get the creases out. I draw a veil over what happened on the _Vulcan_ during the next quarter of an hour. There was never such a muster of the crew since they left port: Everybody seemed to have business on deck. When the Captain came up you could have heard a pin drop. I shall not repeat his language, nor try to compare with anything earthly the voice with which he ordered every man below. All I will record is--and it is to his everlasting honour--that in that awful hour the Captain was true to his vow. 'Do you see land?' he roared to the steersman. 'Aye, aye, sir,' said the man, 'land on the larboard bow.' 'Then,' said the Captain, 'put her head to it.' [Illustration: HE BEGAN WITH THE PARROT] That night, late, the ship stood close in to a small island on the north coast of Scotland, and a boat was solemnly sent ashore, and after that Tricky was no more seen by any of the crew of the _Vulcan_. CHAPTER III The island on which the Captain of the _Vulcan_ exiled Tricky was marked on the chart 'uninhabited.' But the chart was wrong. Ten years before, a shepherd had come there, and now lived with his wife and family near the top of the great sea-cliff. You may judge of the sensation when a real live monkey appeared in the early morning in this remote and lonely spot. The shepherd was watching his sheep when the apparition rose, as it were, from the ground. He had never seen a monkey before, any more than the sheep; and sheep and shepherd bolted like wildfire. Tricky, of course, followed the biped, for he had always been accustomed to human society; and, as the shepherd fled towards the hut, he saw the monkey close at his heels. So he made a rush at the open door, and pulled it after him with a bang which almost brought down the house. [Illustration: THE SHEPHERD BOLTED LIKE WILDFIRE] The fugitive had just got inside when, in a moment, he felt himself seized from behind. It seemed as if a powerful hand was dragging him backward, and he threw himself down on the ground, and roared with fear. What had happened was that the flying end of his plaid had got jammed in the door, but he felt sure the evil spirit was holding him in its clutches, and it was some time before his startled wife could convince him that there was nothing there. The good woman gathered him up, and soothed him; and as soon as he could speak he told her in a shivering voice about the awful monster which had come to slay them all. He had scarcely got out the word 'monster,' when there was a scurrying in the chimney, and the monster presented himself before them, and calmly sat down on the meal-barrel. 'It's just a puggy!' cried the shepherd's wife (she had been to Inverness), and began to stroke Tricky on the back. As she did so, she noticed that the creature had a strand of an old ship's rope round its neck, and to this was attached a small piece of paper. She opened it and read four words, scrawled in a hasty hand:-- 'Won't Hang. Won't Drown.' The shepherd seemed more frightened than ever at this revelation. 'Won't hang, won't drown,' he muttered. 'Then, we'll see if it won't _shoot_,' and he reached over the fireplace for the gun which he killed the rabbits with. As he loaded it it seemed to the shepherd's wife as if all the powder and shot in the house was being poured into the barrel. She pleaded with her husband to spare Tricky's life, and it almost looked as if she had succeeded, for the shepherd lowered the gun from his shoulder and stood for a moment as if in doubt. But it was not because of his wife he stopped. It was partly because he was quite too shaky to aim straight; and partly because he was too much of a sportsman to shoot offhand a thing which was sitting quiet and still on his own meal-barrel; but the main reason was that he was afraid to shoot the baby, whose crib was just beside it. So he gave the meal-barrel a kick with his foot to dislodge the monkey. He thought it would make for the door, and there, in the open air, he would shoot it fair and square. But the monkey had other views. What it wanted was something to eat; and the children's porridge being handy, it put its paw in and began breakfast. The shepherd was too much petrified to interfere, and it was only when Tricky next spilt the milk-jug over the baby that he roused himself to do his duty to his family. He raised the gun once more, and, watching his chance when Tricky was exactly opposite the door, aimed straight at its heart, and pulled the trigger. Now, the next moment that monkey ought to have been scattered all over the hillside in multitudinous fragments. On the contrary, it was up on the table, imitating the click of the gun with a spoon. Not that the shepherd missed. For the first time in its life the rusty lock had 'struck,' and the dazed shepherd was more than ever confirmed in his belief that the monkey was a witch. 'Won't shoot,' he muttered to himself, 'won't hang, won't drown. I have tried the first; I'll prove the next.' So, as he was too superstitious to try to shoot it again, he went out to hang the monkey. But there was no tree on the island. All day the shepherd searched for a place to hang Tricky, but in vain. That night he lay thinking, hour after hour, where he would hang it, and in the early morning an inspiration came to him--he would try the pump! So he rose softly and fixed the handle of the pump high in the air, so that it stuck out like a gallows, and tied a rope with a noose to the end of it. Then he got Tricky to perch on the top of the pump, tied the rope round his neck, and all was ready. The shepherd had heard that the object of hanging was to break the neck of the criminal by a sudden 'drop,' but as he could not give Tricky a long enough drop he determined to make up for it in another way. So he gathered all his strength, and with a tremendous sweep of his arms sent Tricky flying into space. Of course you know what happened. The rope--it was quite rotten--broke, and Tricky landed on his four paws, and stood grinning at his executioner, as if he would like it all over again. [Illustration: ALL WAS READY] That whole day the sheep and lambs on the Island of ---- were neglected. All day long you might have seen the shepherd sitting by the marsh-side plaiting something with his fingers. Round him, the ground was strewn with rushes, some loose, and some in bundles, but for every one the workman chose he threw away a hundred, because it was not tough and strong. And as he plaited, and twisted, and knotted, and tested, there was fire in the shepherd's eye, and thunder all over his face. At daybreak next morning the shepherd and the monkey once more formed in procession and wended their way to the old pump. The new rope could hang an elephant. It was thick as a boa-constrictor, and the shepherd took a full hour to adjust the noose and get the gallows into working order. Then the fatal moment came. With a mightier shove than before the monkey was launched into the air, and the rope stiffened and held like a ship's hawser. But the executioner had not calculated everything. The rope and the 'drop' were all right, but when the gallows felt the shock, the pump-handle cracked off like a match, and the old moss-covered tube gave two rocks and reeled from its moorings, and lay split in pieces on the ground. Jagged and needlelike splinters at the same moment scraped and pierced and gouged at the shepherd's shins, and tore his nether garments, and made him dance with pain and rage. If anything could have added more agony to the next few minutes it was the sight of Tricky. That ever gay animal was careering down the hill straight towards the feeding sheep. The pump-handle was still tied to its neck, and it clattered over the stones with a noise weird enough to drive the whole flock into the sea. The shepherd knew there must be a catastrophe, but he was powerless to avert it. He was too sore to follow, so he slowly limped towards the hut, to nurse his wrath and his wounds. CHAPTER IV For three days after the monkey had been 'hanged' it did not come near the shepherd or his house. A monkey has feelings. To be nearly hanged is bad enough, but to have a boa-constrictor and a pump-handle tied to your neck is more than any self-respecting animal would stand. So Tricky devoted himself exclusively to the sheep. For the space of three days, with the invaluable aid of the pump-handle, Tricky shepherded that flock. Not a blade of grass was nibbled during this period; one prolonged stampede was kept up night and day. The lambs dropped with hunger. The old sheep tottered with fatigue. The whole flock was demoralised. In fact, when the 'Reign of Terror' closed there was not a pound of sound mutton left on the island. Why did not the shepherd interfere? Because, as we shall see, for these three days he had more urgent work to do. When the shepherd's wife went out to the pump that morning for water to make the porridge with, she found it a heap of ruins. She came back and broke the tidings to the shepherd, and said she believed it had been struck with lightning. The shepherd discreetly said nothing, but presently stole sullenly out to inspect the damage once more. It was worse than he thought. A pump must hold in both air and water; this pump was rent and split in a dozen places. There was no water either to drink or make the porridge with, till the tube was mended. So all that day the shepherd was splicing, and hammering, and gluing, and bandaging. All the next day he was doing the same. He got nothing to eat or drink; nobody got anything to eat or drink. The poor children were kept alive on a single bowlful, which happened to be in the house, but this was now finished, and they were crying out from want. Positively, if this drought and famine had been kept up for a few days more the island would certainly have been restored to the condition described on the chart--'uninhabited.' On the morning of the fourth day the pump stood erect, and wind and water-tight once more. Only one thing was wanting--there was no handle. The only thing left was to try to catch Tricky, for there was nothing else on the island which would make a handle. But just then Tricky required no catching. At that moment he was sitting on the doorstep contemplating the group round the pump. Everybody being out, he had seized the opportunity to have a good breakfast--consisting of every particle of meal in the barrel--and was now enjoying a period of repose before recommencing hostilities. The shepherd made a rush at him, but, alas, what he wanted was no longer there. A piece of frayed rope dangled on its neck, but the pump-handle was gone. It took two days more to find it. Every inch of the island was patiently examined. Even the child next the baby had to join in the search. Night and day they were all at it; and at last it was found by the shepherd's wife--stuck in a rabbit-hole. All this time no one had leisure to kill Tricky. But on the seventh day the shepherd rose with murder written on his brow. The monkey would not shoot, and he would not hang; it remained to try what drowning would do. So he tied a large stone round the monkey's neck, and led him forth to the edge of the great sea-cliff. [Illustration: HE TOOK MONKEY AND STONE AND HEAVED THEM OVER THE CLIFF] A hundred feet below, the sea lay like a mirror; and the shepherd, as he looked over for a deep place, saw the great fronds of the sea-weeds and the jelly-fish and the anemones lying motionless in the crystal waters. Then he took the monkey and the stone in his great hands, examined the knots hastily, and, with one sudden swing, heaved them over the cliff. The shepherd would much rather at this point have retired from the scene. But he dared not. He could not trust that monkey. An actual certificate of death was due to himself and to his family. So he peered over the cliff and saw the splash in the sea, and watched the ripples clearing off till the sea-bottom stood out again with every shell distinct. And there, sure enough, was Tricky, down among the star-fish, safely moored to his gravestone, and the yard of good rope holding like a chain-cable. The shepherd rose for the first time since that monkey set foot upon the island and breathed freely. Then he slowly went back to the house and told the tale of the end of Tricky. It was not till midnight that Tricky came back. Of course you knew Tricky would come back. You knew the rope would slip over the stone, or break, or be eaten through by a great fish, or something, and, though none of these things happened, it is certainly true that that night at midnight Tricky did turn up. Perhaps I should say turn down, for he came in, as usual, by the chimney. But the exact way in which this singular creature escaped from its watery grave must be reserved for another chapter. CHAPTER V If the shepherd had stood looking over the cliff for one moment longer he would have witnessed a curious scene. Every schoolboy knows that a stone is lighter in water than in air. How the monkey knew this, or whether he did or did not, it is impossible to say, but his actions were certainly those of a philosopher. For, instead of resigning himself to his fate, he bent down and grasped the stone which held him to his watery grave, picked it up in his arms, and walked calmly along the bottom towards the shore. With a supreme effort he next got the stone edged on to a half-submerged ledge; but now that it was half out of the water it was once more too heavy to lift, and Tricky lay in great perplexity in the shallow water, wondering how ever he was to get out of this fresh dilemma. There appeared nothing for it but to attack the rope with his teeth, and for an hour Tricky worked at the tough strands, but without almost any success. After another hour's work the monkey made an appalling discovery. When he began work, the water was only up to his knees; and to his consternation, it now covered him up to his middle. In a short time more it came up to his neck, and it was clear to Tricky that if the ledge went on sinking at this rate he was a dead monkey. Tricky thought he knew all about the sea, but in the foreign sea, where he had lived with the missionary, there were no tides, and this creeping in of the water greatly disturbed his peace of mind. To his great joy, however, he found that the stone, now wholly covered with water, was once more light enough to lift, and he trundled it along the ledge till the water became too shallow to move it further. Just above this point was another ledge, high and dry above tide-mark, and the yard of rope was just long enough to allow the monkey to take up his position there, and shake himself dry in the sun. Now, this shaking process suggested an idea to Tricky--a very obvious one to you or me, but a real inspiration to a monkey. Tricky noticed that the very part of the rope where he had been gnawing rested against the sharp edge of the rocky ledge, and that one frayed strand had suddenly parted while he was shaking himself. The rock-edge, in fact, was a regular knife, and after much and hard rubbing, and many rests, Tricky found himself within three or four strands of freedom. It was all but midnight when the last strand parted, and in a few minutes more the gallant monkey crawled up the cliff and stood once more at the door of his executioner's house. I am afraid you will be as much surprised as Tricky was at the startling discovery he made when he got there. The cottage was on fire! For days, you will remember, there had been no food in the shepherd's home. But that day the family had celebrated the mending of the pump by a great banquet and a washing. Such a fire was lit as had not blazed on the hearth for years, and when it grew dark the red sparks flew into the air and fell in dangerous showers upon the dry thatched roof. The wind, too, rose about nightfall, and fanned one smouldering square of turf into life; and when Tricky reached the spot at least half the roof was already in a blaze. But Tricky was hungry after his day's adventures, and the chimney end of the roof being still untouched by the fire, he jumped on to the roof and down into the kitchen with a bound. The baby's cradle lay, as usual, close to the side of the fire, and the monkey, in passing, must have swished it with his tail, for the infant broke into a sudden yell, which rang through the room, and woke the shepherd with a start. The good man was awake not a moment too soon. Had the monkey arrived five minutes later the whole family must have perished; the smoke had already filled the other room, and was pouring in, in rolling clouds, below the kitchen door. With one thunderstruck glare at the night-watchman who had wakened him so opportunely--and who now occupied his usual throne on the meal-barrel, violently sneezing out smoke, and wondering whether it was not better to be drowned--the shepherd rushed towards the door to save the two elder children who lay locked in slumber in the burning room beyond. Seizing them in his arms, he bore them safely to the open air, and then returned for his wife and the other children. Tricky followed at their heels; and the next moment the rescued family stood in a shivering group, helplessly watching the flames. The roof soon fell in, and in the morning all that remained of the shepherd's house was a few charred rafters. * * * * * On the spot where the shepherd's cottage was burned now stands a noble lighthouse. It was put up a few months after the fire, and one of the three lighthouse-keepers is the shepherd. The second is a man who is fond of telling tales of the sea, and how he was once mate of a ship called the _Vulcan_. The third keeper of the lighthouse is a quadruped called Tricky. The affection between him and the ex-shepherd is peculiar. Other people think there is some history connected with it, but the shepherd never says much. When asked if it is really true that the monkey cannot be killed, he always replies, 'Yes; but that is not why it is alive.' Only on one occasion was the shepherd known to add anything to that remark. It was one night when Tricky had held back the baby--it had just learned to creep--from tumbling over the cliff. Then the shepherd smiled as he threw Tricky a whole bagful of nuts, and said, 'That monkey won't kill--nor let anybody else kill.' [Illustration: TRICKY HELD BACK THE BABY] GUM CHAPTER I I suppose you thought the monkey I told you about before was dead. But my opinion is that he is still alive. At least, I am pretty sure it is the same monkey that I have now to tell you about, though I cannot be quite sure. In the first place this new monkey was very like Tricky, and in the second place it was a monkey that _would not kill_. Now, I never heard before of any monkey that would not kill except one, and that was Tricky. Another thing that makes me think it is the same monkey, is that Tricky disappeared from the island where we saw him last. No one knows how it happened, but there was a coincidence about the time which I must relate. One morning a boat's crew landed on the island where Tricky lived with the lighthouse-keeper, to fill their water-kegs. The lighthouse-keeper was kind to them, for they were foreigners, and showed them all over the lighthouse, and when they got to the very top they found the monkey dusting the lamps just like a human being. The sailors were much astonished, and one of them, who could speak a little English, wanted to buy Tricky for two pounds. When the lighthouse-keeper heard this he was very angry, and ordered them all down the ladder. This made the men angry in turn, for they did not know the reason why the lighthouse-keeper loved the monkey, and they told him they would not forget the way he had insulted them. Of course he had not insulted them at all, but foreign sailors are sometimes quick-tempered, and these men came from a country where slights are easily felt. The sailors spent the whole day on shore, as the wind was unfavourable for getting out to sea, but no one saw them enter the lighthouse again. Next morning, all that the lighthouse-keeper saw of the sailors and their ship was the tips of their top-gallants dipping over the horizon edge. And all that he saw of the monkey that--would--not--kill, after searching night and day for a week was--nothing. CHAPTER II Mr. Donald MacAlsh, gold-miner from Silver Creek, California, happening to be in San Francisco, read one morning the following paragraph in the _San Francisco Herald_:-- 'Curious Tale of The Sea.--Captain J. E. Dawkins of the _Mermaid_, which has just arrived in this port from Liverpool, reports a singular occurrence. About ten days' out from home the look-out observed what he took to be a great sea-serpent, but which, on further inspection, turned out to be a quantity of wreckage. On approaching the spot the figure of a boy was distinctly observed clinging to the broken portion of a mast, and obviously still alive. A small boat was instantly lowered, the ship's crew meantime making signals to the boy to inform him that he was being rescued. After a suspense of some half-hour the boat returned with the extraordinary intelligence that the figure seen was not that of a boy, but of a monkey. Search among the wreckage for human remains proved unavailing, and it is feared that a serious catastrophe has occurred. The only clue to the nationality of the vessel, which, it is only too plain, has met with a disastrous fate, are the letters "vorni" on a portion of what had evidently formed the bow of one of the life-boats. Possibly these letters are part of "Livorni," the Italian word for Leghorn, and the list of recent sailings from that port is now being scrutinised with some anxiety.' [Illustration: THE MONKEY'S RESCUE] Now what interested Donald--'Big Donald,' he was always called--in this story was not the monkey, but the arrival of the _Mermaid_. For the Captain was a friend of his, and was bringing him some tools from home in this very ship. Though 'Big Donald' was now a gold-miner, he came out from Scotland when quite a lad. His father was a small farmer in Skye, and, dying early, the family emigrated to America. As it was to get these tools that Donald came in to San Francisco he soon found his way to the harbour, and, finding out the _Mermaid_, walked on board. No one was visible on deck, so Donald sat down on a coil of rope to wait. He had not been there three minutes when a matted head and two very brilliant eyes suddenly shot up the companion, and a full-grown monkey sprang in front of him and stared into his face. Donald, much startled by this apparition, called out in a loud voice for the creature to go away; but the moment the words were spoken the monkey sprang on his back and clasped its long hairy arms about his neck. The miner shook it off in terror and tried to run ashore, but the monkey followed, frisking and gambolling round him, and chasing him all over the quay. Donald soon discovered, however, that the monkey meant no harm, and a few days later an explanation of this sudden outburst of interest in a stranger--the Captain told Donald that the monkey had never been known to behave like this before--broke in upon the miner's mind. He remembered that when he suddenly spoke to the monkey he had called to it _in Gaelic_. Under the impulse of a sudden fear, I suppose, the language of his boyhood had started to his lips, and the words came out unconsciously '_Imich air falbh_,' which means 'Go away.' What made Donald remember the circumstance was this, that whenever afterwards he used the Highland tongue the monkey manifested peculiar signs of joy. The only way the miner could account for this singular fact was to suppose that somehow or other this monkey had once belonged to some one who used the Gaelic language--a suggestion, however, which people generally laughed at. The miner always maintained, nevertheless, that the monkey really knew Gaelic, and he seldom spoke to it in any other language. Of course, people said this was simply to show off that he knew two languages. I do not know whether the miner bought the monkey, or whether the Captain gave it to him, or whether it ran away, but it is certain that from this hour it belonged to Donald. When he left the ship with his tools, the monkey followed, trotting after him like a dog all the way till he reached his lodgings. The miner then went into the house and shut the door, leaving the monkey outside. In ten minutes it seemed as if all the boys in San Francisco had gathered in that street. They formed a crowd round the door which almost stopped the traffic; and when the policeman shortly appeared he was rather disgusted to find that it was only a monkey performing gymnastic exercises on a door-knocker. Roughly ringing the bell, he ordered Donald to take in his monkey. Donald replied meekly that he was not responsible for the monkey, but the officer said he would be summoned for 'obstructing the thoroughfare and causing a breach of the peace' if he did not take in his guest at once. So Donald had to submit, for he saw there would be no rest in San Francisco till this wayward creature had its will and was safe inside. That night Donald had a serious talk with the monkey as it sat upright in its chair at supper. He told it that if it would behave itself he would take it up to the Rocky Mountains to the gold diggings. The monkey seemed to understand, for it put down a lump of cheese it was about to eat, skipped off its chair, and nestled against Big Donald's side. Only one other thing happened that night: Donald gave the monkey its name. He called it 'Gum'--because it stuck to him. [Illustration: A MONKEY PERFORMING GYMNASTIC EXERCISES] CHAPTER III Next morning Donald and Gum started from San Francisco by an early train on their way to Silver Creek. The appearance of the monkey in the railway carriage created much amusement among the passengers, and Donald had to stand a running-fire of questions as to whether it belonged to his great-grandfather or to a barrel-organ. The fun was stopped in a little while by the entrance of the conductor, who demanded Gum's ticket. Gum not having a ticket, an angry discussion arose on the subject of fare; but Donald said he would only pay when the conductor showed him the correct price for a monkey printed in black and white in the official books. There being no special mention in these volumes of monkeys on tour, Donald declined to pay a cent, and the conductor departed, vowing he would put Gum out of the train at the next station. When the next station came, however, Donald and the monkey were entrenched in a corner, the latter tightly grasped in the miner's great arms, and the conductor, after a glance at the situation, decided to wait for a more convenient season. In America the conductor, instead of entering the carriages only when the train stops, moves about all the time from one carriage to another, so that as the station for Silver Creek was still eleven hours' distant, he had little doubt his chance would come. [Illustration: BURIED HIS TEETH IN THE CONDUCTOR'S WRIST] And come it did. It was a piping hot day, even for California, and late in the afternoon Donald fell asleep. His arms were still clasped round the monkey, and the conductor would never have succeeded in his object but for an accident. It happened that about that time the train was approaching an important junction, and part of every ticket had to be given up at that point. In America a railway ticket is sometimes half a yard in length, and pieces have to be torn off from point to point. To avoid the disturbance caused by this operation, miners, cowboys, and others are in the habit of wearing their tickets slipped into the band of their great wide-awake hats, and Donald was in this inviting position when the conductor came round. He snatched it out of the hat to tear off the necessary piece, when the monkey, thinking a theft was meant, sprang at the man and buried his teeth in his wrist. Roaring with pain, the conductor seized his assailant by the throat, and, before Donald could come to the rescue, tossed him out of the window. The train was dashing round a curve at thirty miles an hour, and when Donald stretched out his neck to find out whether Gum was killed, it was with small hope of ever seeing him more. For two minutes the miner gazed at the receding distance, then, without uttering a word, turned round and felled the conductor to the floor. CHAPTER IV When the train rolled into the junction, about an hour after, Donald went into the refreshment room to quiet his nerves with a cup of cocoa. He was about to take his seat again in the carriage when he observed a crowd on the platform opposite the brake-van at the rear end of the train. Making his way to the spot and looking over the heads of the crowd, what was his amazement to see Gum seated on the coupling apparatus, and looking about him with perfect serenity. One hand held an iron rod, and with the other he scratched his head; and, but for a great splash of brown earth on one side, the monkey seemed wholly untouched by his adventure. A single word in Gaelic from Donald made the monkey spring from its perch, and over the heads of the people into his arms, and in a few minutes the strange friends were pursuing their journey again, as if nothing had happened. A new conductor was now on the train, and Donald made friends with him by reciting the whole adventure, so that they were allowed to end the day in peace. About midnight the two got out at a roadside station, where they spent the night, and in the grey of the morning set out by coach for Silver Creek. From Silver Creek Donald's cabin was still thirty miles' walk over the mountains, and after another day's hard toiling they reached the spot. CHAPTER V After a long journey over the mountains Donald reached his log cabin on the Silver Creek. The monkey, however, did not find quite so immediate a welcome as himself from Donald's wife. The only pet her children had ever seen before was a baby puma, which the miner had picked out of the stream one day in a half-drowned state. Donald had mistaken it for a kitten of some new brand, and it was not until some weeks later, when it sprang upon his little girl and buried his claws in her neck, that he realised what sort of plaything--the puma is the lion of the Rocky Mountains--he had introduced into his family. So Donald's wife was suspicious of pets, and when she saw the monkey she was sure it was another lion, and would not allow it to enter the door. But Gum had other ways of entering houses than by doors, and finally he was received as a lawful member of the family, for the simple reason that he could not be kept out. The new guest gave little trouble. Most of the day the monkey spent with Donald at the mine. He went off with him when he went to work in the morning, and gambolled round him till he came home for supper. And very soon an incident happened which more than reconciled Donald's wife to her strange visitor. Donald's gold-mine was a poor one. He had to work very hard to get enough of the precious dust to keep his family in food, but his spirits were kept up by the constant hope that he would strike a richer bed and make his fortune. The way he got the gold was to take the sand and gravel from the banks of the river and wash it about in a pan till all the lighter particles passed off with the water, leaving the little spangles of gold at the bottom. Sometimes a week would pass without the miner getting more than a thimbleful, but occasionally he would find a few lumps as big as a pea. One day, however, just as Donald was getting discouraged, a piece of great good-luck befell him. He had been particularly depressed that day, for no gold at all had rewarded his search for a week, and the family were already in debt for flour and clothes. But, thanks to the monkey, he was able to go home to his wife with the largest gold nugget that had been seen in that valley for many years. Gum had been skirmishing about as usual on the gravel heaps, when some loose pebbles were dislodged by his paws, and, as they rolled down, he must have been attracted by the yellow glitter in one large lump, for the next moment he had picked up the nugget and laid it, with a wag of his tail, at Donald's feet. The miner almost wept for gladness, and, taking Gum up in his arms as if he were a child, hurried home to proclaim his fortune. That night the family had a great feast, and Gum's health was drunk in the strongest tea the mining camp could furnish. Perhaps if they had known what was shortly to happen they would not have slept quite so soundly. [Illustration: THE NUGGET OF GOLD] CHAPTER VI Two nights after the wheel of fortune gave an unlooked-for turn. Donald's wife was so proud of the nugget that she could not keep the news to herself, and, next morning, although Donald had carefully told her to keep it quiet, confided his good-luck to another miner's wife, who lived a few hundred yards off. This worthy woman told another, and in twenty-four hours the fame of Donald's nugget was spread from end to end of the valley. This would not have mattered in most places, but mining districts are peopled by criminals and adventurers of all kinds, and among these were some lawless characters whose chief business was to get gold in some other way than by working for it. Two of these men, brothers, who lived with their families at the lower end of the valley, determined that they should possess themselves of Donald's nugget. Covering their faces with black masks, and armed with revolvers, they set off about midnight for the miner's cabin. The family were fast asleep, and the robbers noiselessly pushed up the window, and entered the room where Donald slept. Pointing a loaded revolver at his head, one of the men roughly awoke him, and told him if he moved or cried out he would blow out his brains and murder every one in the house. Donald was too familiar with stories of camp crime to resist an attack so sudden, and, though a loaded revolver was under his own pillow, he saw his disadvantage and, for the sake of his wife and children, controlled himself with a great effort. [Illustration: POINTING A LOADED REVOLVER AT HIS HEAD] 'I want that little bit of metal of yours,' said the robber. Donald lay perfectly quiet. 'Do you hear!' exclaimed the man, 'I want that gold.' 'Then you won't get it,' said Donald quietly. 'I believe he has sent it to the bank,' whispered the other man. 'Kill him if he has.' 'Look here!' thundered the first, 'do you mean to say that nugget is gone?' Donald made no reply. If he said it was gone, the robbers would have simply sneaked home, for Donald was known in these parts as a man who never told a lie. Once more the robber asked him, but Donald remained silent. This was enough. If it had really been gone Donald would have certainly said so. So, while the first man stood with a revolver at his ear, the second proceeded to search the house. Drawers, boxes, and cupboards were opened and ransacked in quick succession; every corner of the two rooms was examined; the very dishes on the shelf were turned upside down, and the sugar-basin smashed to pieces with a blow, in case it should have been hidden there. 'Let me try,' said the man with the revolver; 'you watch the old bear, and see if I can't find it.' Once more the house was ransacked from top to bottom, and the robber was about to abandon the search, when a sudden thought occurred to him. On the mantel-piece ticked a wooden American clock, about two feet high. The man opened the door in the case, and fumbled about with his finger. Next moment he had drawn out the nugget. He bent over the fire to get a better look at it, and then proceeded to weigh it in the palm of his hand, to see how much it was worth. The other robber, unable to restrain his curiosity, moved likewise toward the fire, when the first checked him with an angry cry, and sent him back to his victim's side to continue his guard. Another moment, and Donald would have had his revolver out, and the nugget would have been saved. But there was another spectator of this scene on whom the thieves had scarcely reckoned. In his usual berth, crouched at the side of the fireplace, sat Gum. The robber was weighing the gold in his hand, turning it round and round, and gloating over it, when the glitter from the precious metal attracted the monkey's eye. It seemed to feel some sense of property in this gold, for, quick as lightning, one hairy paw brushed the robber's hand, and the next moment the nugget was gone. With a great oath the robber turned on Gum, and dealt it a blow on the head which knocked it senseless to the other side of the room. But, before that blow fell, two things happened. With one hand held out to protect itself against this sudden onslaught, the monkey made a grab at its assailant's face, and tore off the black mask, so that Donald instantly recognised the man, in the glow of the firelight; with the other hand, which held the gold, the monkey swiftly transferred the nugget to its mouth. The robber's eye followed this last movement, however, and he picked up Gum roughly, and proceeded to wrench open its jaws. He felt all round his mouth, but the nugget was not there. He held the senseless body up by the tail and shook it, but no gold appeared. He took his head between his knees, and sounded all over its throat, but the nugget was not to be found. As a matter of fact it was not there. The blow which had fallen upon the monkey's head had knocked it down its throat. Gum had swallowed the nugget! What was to be done now? If the robber had had a knife in his pocket, Gum would have been a dead monkey in two seconds. But while he was unsuccessfully feeling for his knife, Gum suddenly came to, and with one violent wriggle shook itself free, and sprang on the highest shelf. The robber gave chase; then followed the most comical hunt you ever saw. The robber's face being now exposed (he had no idea that Donald had already recognised him), he was afraid to turn round, and he had to keep up the hunt without once facing in the direction where Donald lay, with the result that he was fairly baffled, and after a quarter of an hour's hard work, gave up the chase. All that remained now was to blind Donald. Roughly approaching the bed, the robber drew the blankets over Donald's face, and told him he would shoot him if he dared to stir. As an extra precaution, the miner's revolver was taken out of reach, and then both men started, with a piece of rope, to secure the monkey. Clever as Gum was, he was scarcely a match for two men, who, as noted horse-thieves, were experts in the use of the lasso, and in a short time the monkey was ignominiously driven from his perch on a rafter, tied up in Donald's pillow-case, and swung over the shoulder of one of the men. Then the robbers wished Donald a grim good-night, and marched off with their 'purse.' As they were going out of the door Donald called after them, 'Good-night, ye blackguards, and mark my words, if ye lay a hand on that monkey ye'll regret it as long as ye live!' This made the men a little frightened, for although they did not like to confess it to one another, there was something about Gum that was 'not canny.' Anyhow, whether it was fear of the monkey, or of their own consciences, instead of killing Gum as soon as they left the house they carried it all the way home with them, discussing which of them was to kill it, and how it was to be done. CHAPTER VII When the thieves reached home, after a hasty breakfast, they continued the discussion as to how the purse was to be opened and the nugget secured. Unfortunately for them the monkey had struggled out of the pillow-case, as soon as it reached the house, and the robbers' children at once seized upon it, and claimed it as their pet. When they were told it would have to be killed, the youngest child, a little girl so lovely that even a bad father could not help loving her, burst into tears, and, putting her arms round the robber's neck, prayed and entreated him to spare its life, and let her play with it. Now, wicked as this man was, this child had a mysterious influence over him, and though he was resolved to kill Gum, and that immediately, he determined that she should not see it done, nor even know that he had done it. Besides this, it would never do to let the people in the valley know that they had killed the monkey, for Donald would surely go in search of it; so after consulting together for some time, the robbers decided on a plan for killing Gum without anybody being any the wiser. They knew that if they shot it, or drowned it, or slew it with a knife, the children would be angry, and the story would certainly be told to their playmates and passed on in time to Donald's family. So a very diabolical scheme was hatched. The only way they could think of for killing Gum without any one seeing, or without either of them being actually present at the death, was to _blow it up with gunpowder_. This method had another advantage, which neither of the men liked to confess weighed with them, but in reality it was this more than anything else that made them think of the gunpowder. At the bottom of their hearts these men were cowards, and after the strange threat which Donald had uttered as they were leaving his house, they were secretly afraid 'to lay a hand' upon Gum. A monkey was a very mysterious creature. They had never had anything to do with one before. Gum's face had a curious human look, and to murder it in cold blood was almost like murdering a man. So the gunpowder idea seemed the very solution that was needed, and they set about their preparations at once. While one of the men remained at the kitchen fire with the family to allay suspicion, the other, after pocketing a little can of miners' blasting-powder, a couple of feet of fuse, and a piece of string, strolled out to the wood behind the cabin on the pretence of giving the monkey a walk. As soon as a low thicket screened the pair from view, the robber tied the monkey to the trunk of a tree. Then he lashed the can of gunpowder tightly to the monkey's tail, passed one end of the fuse into it through a small hole, struck a match, and lighted the other end. As soon as he saw the fuse was fairly lit, and the red fire slowly creeping upwards, he ran back as fast as he could to the house. Meantime the other man had got a concertina from the shelf, and was playing with all his might to drown the sound of the explosion. When the executioner arrived, out of breath though he was, he joined noisily in the dance which the children had set up the moment the concertina began to play, and presently such a stamping and shouting was going on in the cottage that the sound of an earthquake would have been quenched. Suddenly an awful interruption occurred. Through the open door the monkey bounded in, and taking up its place in the midst of the circle joined in the dance. From its neck dangled a piece of string, burnt at the point; but what made the children shriek with laughter was a small tin can tied to its tail, which clattered about with every turn of the body, and strange to say, had a sort of little tail of its own which appeared to be on fire, for little puffs of smoke were coming from it, and a red colour glowed at the tip. The moment the robbers caught sight of this apparition there was a yell of fear which paralysed the children into rigid statues. The men's faces were livid with terror, and some seconds passed before either had recovered his senses sufficiently to act. Then one man, with a great sweep of his arms, caught up all the children into one tumble bunch, and flung them screaming with pain and surprise under the bed of the adjoining room. The other, who was directly responsible for the mischief, seeing that the only chance to save his house and himself was to get Gum outside, clutched the smoking monkey in his arms and rushed to the door. Quick as the movement was, it was not quick enough. Those inside heard a deafening report; the house was filled with smoke; the doorway became a heap of fallen timber, and the blackened body of a man lay groaning among the charred ruins. One of the robbers, their wives, and all the children were safe. But when the smoke cleared away, and the body by the door was examined, life was all but extinct. For weeks the robber hung between life and death. It forms no part of this story to tell what pains he suffered, or what agonies of mind he passed through, or how, when months after he was able to crawl from his bed and go out into the air it was to see never more the sunlight or the flowers with his sightless eyes. Certainly Donald's words had come true. When the miner heard that evening what had happened, although he had already sent off word to the nearest police-station with the names of the guilty men, he took no further action in the matter. God's punishment was quicker than man's. [Illustration: THE CAN OF GUNPOWDER TIED TO HIS TAIL] CHAPTER VIII Late that afternoon the monkey turned up at his old home. Donald found him lying at the door, an almost unrecognisable object. Thanks to the way the robber had carried him, one half of his body was untouched, but the other half was a pitiable spectacle, and the long curly tail, Gum's great ornament and plaything, was blown off by the root. The poor creature had swooned, but that he had lain there an hour or two in great pain was plain from the way the gravel was tossed about in all directions round him. Donald was greatly touched, and lifting him up in his arms as tenderly as if he were a child, placed him in his own bed and dressed his burns. After a long sleep it awoke, and Donald, who had sat silently by his side, bent over to allow it to lick his face. The moment it opened its mouth the miner sprang from his chair as if he had been shot. For there between his teeth the monkey held the nugget! * * * * * Five years have passed. Donald is the richest man in Silver Creek County, and his great mines are worked by hundreds of men. He lives in a great house, sumptuously furnished and full of precious things, which he delights to show to the many visitors who flock to see his mine. But of all these precious things, by far the most precious is Gum, the monkey without a tail, 'the finder of his first nugget, and the founder of his fortunes,' as he says to everybody. Then he tells how Gum found the nugget, and how it was stolen and once more brought back; and how when Gum got better, the two went back to the spot where the big lump was found, and searched and searched, and found lump after lump and nugget after nugget, until, in a few months, more gold was hidden below Donald's bed than had come from all the mines put together since they first were opened. Then the good man calls out a word in Gaelic, and the monkey without a tail jumps into his arms to be caressed, and Donald asks his guests to read the inscription on the golden collar round its neck:-- TO FAITHFUL GUM FROM HIS GRATEFUL MASTER. Made out of the first nugget--August 2nd, 1888. [Illustration: THE MOST PRECIOUS OF ALL IS GUM] 
31486	----	The MONKEY'S FROLIC. A humorous tale, in verse. [Publisher's device] LONDON: GRANT AND GRIFFITH, successors to J. HARRIS, CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD. The MONKEY'S FROLIC. A Humorous Tale. [Publisher's device] LONDON: GRANT AND GRIFFITH, successors to JOHN HARRIS, CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD. The MONKEY'S FROLIC. Our tale is a true one, from which may be taught A maxim for youth, with utility fraught;-- _If terrors assail you, examine the cause, And all will be well_;--for, by NATURE'S kind laws, Nor Goblins nor Spectres on earth have a station,-- These phantoms are all of ideal creation. [Illustration] A _Monkey_, that comical tricks would be at, His frolics one morning began with the _Cat_; He chatter'd, as much as to say _How d' ye do?_ And _Puss_ look'd her thanks, and politely cried _Mew_! _Pug_ then shook her paw, and they sat down together, _Puss_ washing her face, indicating wet weather. [Illustration] But, mischief the _Monkey_ inclining to harbour, His skill he resolved now to try as a _Barber_.-- A soap-box conveniently lay in the room, "Miss _Puss_," he exclaim'd, "you'll be shaved, I presume?" Then scraping and bowing with grin and grimace, Despite of resistance, he lather'd her face. [Illustration] Now _Pug_ could not find either razor or knife, So _Puss_ ran no hazard of losing her life;-- Yet razor or knife though they could not be had, _Pug_ found what the terrified _Cat_ thought as bad; A knife made of ivory, in use to cut paper, With which Barber _Pug_ now proceeded to scrape her. [Illustration] But _Puss_ on a sudden deserted her station, Disliking (no wonder) the strange operation, And ran round the room without means of escaping; While _Pug_, still determined to give her a scraping, Pursued, and, regardless of struggle or prayer, Fast bound her, at last, to the back of a chair. [Illustration] When, tucking a napkin close under her chin, Each mew of dismay he return'd with a grin; And yelling and chattering they raised such a clatter, That _Susan_ rush'd in to learn what was the matter; When _Pug_, overturning the chair midst the clack, Ran off, leaving _Pussy_ stretched out on her back. [Illustration] The sight was to _Susan_ so curious, that faster She ran _out_ than _in_, to tell _Mistress_ and _Master_; But, when they came up, neither _Puss_ nor the _Shaver_ Was there, to account for improper behaviour;-- For _Pug_ had contrived, amid _Susan's_ alarms, To reach the house-top, with Miss _Puss_ in his arms. [Illustration] Now fearing that _Pug_ or Miss _Puss_ might be maim'd, "Go, fetch a long ladder," the _Master_ exclaim'd; "And bring them down quickly both _Barber_ and _Cat_." "Oh, oh!" thought the _Monkey_, "I _sha'nt suffer that_."-- The ladder was climb'd by a servant so valiant, But _Pug_ with loose tiles soon repulsed the assailant. [Illustration] Against all manoeuvre apparently proof, _Pug_ chatter'd and paced to and fro on the roof, And fondled the _Cat_, and next, pitying her case, He wiped with the napkin the suds from her face; As nurse would a child, then he held her out _so_, While all the spectators kept laughing below. [Illustration] Now seeing him thus to good humour inclined, They thought he might prove more pacific of mind, So mounted the ladder another assailer; When _Pug_, of loose tiles now perceiving a failure, Eluded the grasp of pursuit with a hop, And gained an adjacent and tall chimney-pot. [Illustration] It chanced that the vent of this same chimney led Direct to a chamber, confined to his bed Where lay an old gentleman, ill with the gout, _And wishing some bad fate might thence drag him out!_ _Pug_, missing his footing, 'midst vapour and fume, That instant with _Puss_ tumbled into the room. [Illustration] Grimed over with soot, they kick'd up such a rout, And caper'd the sick man's apartment about, And chatter'd and squall'd in a manner so hideous, Like young imps of darkness, that, not to be tedious, The sufferer forgot both his gout and his prayers, And scamper'd, pursued by these phantoms, down stairs! [Illustration] There sat in the parlour a medical man, And thither _pursued_ and _pursuers_ now ran;-- And _Puss_ and the _Monkey_ grown fiercer and bolder, Physician and Patient seized each by his shoulder, Who raised such a yell, that the _chorus_ resembled A legion of mad-caps from Bedlam assembled! [Illustration] The tumult each wonder-struck inmate alarm'd; At length on assistance they ventured, well arm'd, And entered the scene of dismay and despair,-- When, lo! no invaders of quiet were there! But Doctor and Patient lay stretch'd on the floor, Not wotting of terror a forthcoming cure. [Illustration] The incident soon was of mystery clear'd,-- The owner of _Pug_ and _Grimalkin_ appear'd;-- "My _Monkey_ and _Cat_ have created alarm; I hope," he observed, "you have not taken harm:"-- Then cautiously peering the chamber about, He dragg'd, from the Chimney, both intruders out. [Illustration] Alarm now gave way to good humour and fun,-- "Much harm to my friend," said the Patient, "is done; Your _Ape_ pill and potion has put to the rout, And cured me, I thank him, at once of the _Gout_." He then to the _Monkey_ made reverence profound, Who _salam'd_ politely the company round. [Illustration] The _Doctor_ a lesson thus learn'd, that, despite Of physic, the Gout may be cured by a _fright_: And, since this affair, now and then on the sly In similar cases same means he will try.-- To show that no malice or envy he knew, He shook hands with _Pug_, and each party withdrew. POPULAR NURSERY BOOKS, ONE SHILLING EACH. 1. Alphabet of Goody Two-Shoes. 2. The Children in the Wood. 3. Cinderella; or, The Little Glass Slipper. 4. Cock Robin. 5. Cries of London (The). 6. Costumes of different Nations. Illustrated. 7. Courtship, Marriage, and Pic-nic Dinner of Cock-Robin and Jenny Wren. 8. Cowslip (The), 1s. 6d. _coloured_. 9. Daisy (The), ditto. 10. Dame Partlett's Farm. 11. Dame Trot and her Cat. 12. Graciosa and Percinet. 13. Grandmamma's Rhymes for the Nursery. 14. History of the Apple Pie. With Dearlove's Ditties. 15. History of Johnny Gilpin. 16. The House that Jack built. 17. Infant's Friend (The); or, Easy Reading Lessons. 18. Infant's Grammar (The); or, A Pic-nic Party of the Parts of Speech. 19. Little Rhymes for Little Folks. 20. Mother Hubbard and her Dog. 21. Monkey's Frolic (The), &c. 22. Nursery Ditties: from the Lips of Mrs. Lullaby. 23. Old Woman and her Pig. 24. Peacock at Home (The); with the Butterfly's Ball, &c. 25. Portraits and Characters of the Kings of England. 26. Peter Piper's Practical Principles of Plain and Perfect Pronunciation. 27. The Prince of Wales' Primer, with 300 Illustrations. 28. Puss in Boots. 29. Simple Stories. By the Author of "Stories of Old Daniel." 30. Snow-drop (The); or, Poetic Trifles for Little Folks. 31. Tom Thumb. His Life and Death. 32. Tommy Trip's Museum of Beasts. Part I. 33. Ditto. Part II. 34. Tommy Trip's Museum of Birds. Part I. 35. Ditto. Part II. 36. Valentine and Orson. 37. Walks with Mamma; or, Stories in Words of One Syllable. 38. Whittington and his Cat. 39. Word Book (The); or, Stories, chiefly in Three Letters. THE FAVOURITE LIBRARY. _Each volume with an illustration and bound in an elegant cover. Price 1s. Or extra cloth, 1s. 6d._ 1. The Eskdale Herd-boy. By Lady Stoddart. 2. Mrs. Leicester's School. By Charles and Mary Lamb. 3. History of the Robins. By Mrs. Trimmer. 4. Memoirs of Bob, The Spotted Terrier. 5. Keeper's Travels in Search of his Master. 6. The Scottish Orphans. By Lady Stoddart. 7. Never Wrong; or, The Young Disputant. 8. Perambulations of a Mouse. 9. Trimmer's Easy Introduction to the Knowledge of Nature. 10. Right and Wrong. By the Author of "Always Happy." 11. Harry's Holiday. By Jeffreys Taylor. 12. Short Poems and Hymns for Children. Printed by Samuel Bentley and Co., Bangor House, Shoe Lane. 
21049	----	[Illustration: ONE OF THE TRICKS WAS TO RUN AND JUMP THROUGH A PAPER HOOP. "The Curlytops and Their Pets" Page 240] THE CURLYTOPS AND THEIR PETS OR _Uncle Toby's Strange Collection_ BY HOWARD R. GARIS AUTHOR OF "THE CURLYTOPS SERIES," "UNCLE WIGGILY SERIES," "BEDTIME STORIES," ETC. _Illustrations by JULIA GREENE_ NEW YORK CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY THE CURLYTOPS SERIES By HOWARD R. GARIS 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. _THE CURLYTOPS AT CHERRY FARM Or, Vacation Days in the Country_ _THE CURLYTOPS ON STAR ISLAND Or, Camping Out With Grandpa_ _THE CURLYTOPS SNOWED IN Or, Grand Fun With Skates and Sleds_ _THE CURLYTOPS AT UNCLE FRANK'S RANCH Or, Little Folks on Ponyback_ _THE CURLYTOPS AT SILVER LAKE Or, On the Water With Uncle Ben_ _THE CURLYTOPS AND THEIR PETS Or, Uncle Toby's Strange Collection_ CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, New York COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY THE CURLYTOPS AND THEIR PETS Printed in U.S.A. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I UNCLE TOBY'S LETTER 1 II AN AUTOMOBILE RIDE 14 III THE QUEER OLD LADY 28 IV UNCLE TOBY'S PETS 40 V TIP AND TOP 52 VI WHERE IS TIP? 65 VII A FUZZY BURGLAR 79 VIII SLIDER GOES SLIDING 92 IX MRS. JOHNSON'S BABY 104 X MR. CAPPER'S BUNS 116 XI TOP ACTS STRANGELY 128 XII MR. NIP'S ALARM 141 XIII THE HAND-ORGAN MAN 154 XIV TURNOVER AND SKYROCKET 166 XV PLANNING THE CIRCUS 182 XVI TOP IS GONE 193 XVII THE DOG SHOW 203 XVIII THE BLACK POODLES 212 XIX A HAPPY REUNION 221 XX THE CURLYTOPS' CIRCUS 231 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ONE OF THE TRICKS WAS TO RUN AND JUMP THROUGH A PAPER HOOP. "The Curlytops and Their Pets." Page 240 THE SECOND DOG BEGAN TURNING SOMERSAULTS. "The Curlytops and Their Pets." Page 50 SLIDER WENT SLIDING DOWN THE SMOOTH SLANTING BOARD. "The Curlytops and Their Pets." Page 102 JACK MADE ONE LEAP AND LANDED SAFELY IN TEDDY'S ARMS. "The Curlytops and Their Pets." Page 174 THE CURLYTOPS AND THEIR PETS CHAPTER I UNCLE TOBY'S LETTER "What you going to put on your ship, Ted?" "Oh, swords and guns and gunpowder and soldiers. What you going to load on your ship, Jan?" "Oranges and lemons and pineapples," answered the little girl, who was playing with her brother at sailing boats in the brook that ran back of the house. "And maybe I'll have gold and diamonds and chocolate cake on my ship, Teddy," went on Janet Martin. "If you do I'll be a pirate and sink your ship! Oh, Jan, let's play that! I'll be a pirate!" Teddy Martin jumped up so suddenly from the bank of the brook, where he was loading his ship with what he called "swords, guns and gunpowder," that he tipped the vessel over and the whole cargo was spilled into the water. "Oh, look what you did!" cried Janet. "Your gunpowder will be all wet!" "I'm not ready to play the pirate game yet," explained Teddy. "Anyhow, I can get more powder." This would be easy enough, it seemed, as the children were only pretending that stones, pebbles and bits of sticks were the cargoes of their toy ships, and, as Teddy had said, he could easily get more stones. The brook was filled with them. "Where are you going?" Janet called after her brother, as she saw him hurrying toward the house, which was out of sight behind the trees and bushes that grew on the edge of the brook. "I'm going to get a black flag so I can be a pirate and sink your ship with gold, diamonds and chocolate cakes on!" answered Teddy over his shoulder as he ran on. "I--I don't guess I want you to be a pirate," said Janet slowly, as she looked at her ship, on which the pebbles, stones and bits of wood were neatly arranged in piles. "I'm not going to play that game! I don't want you to be a pirate, Ted! It's too scary!" But her brother was beyond the reach of her voice now, hurrying toward the house after his "black pirate flag." Janet shoved her ship out from the shore--her ship laden with diamonds, gold and chocolate cakes. Of course it was not a real ship. The Curlytops would not have had half as much fun with real ships as they were having with the pieces of boards which they were making believe were steamers and sailing vessels. "I'll sail my ship away down to the end of the brook before Ted gets back to be a pirate," said Janet to herself, as, with a long stick, she directed the flat board which was piled high with brook-pebbles. "Then when he comes back he can't sink it." Janet pushed her ship slowly at first, and then a little faster, moving it along by means of the stick while she stood on the bank. Then, hearing a noise in the bushes behind her, she thrust harder on the stick. "I don't want Teddy to pirate my ship!" she thought. "I'll fool him! I'll sail it around the bend, and then I'll hide behind the big buttonball tree and he won't know where I've gone!" In order to do this Janet wanted to make her ship go as fast as possible, so she shoved harder and harder on the stick. And then, all of a sudden, her ship upset. With a splash the stones, pebbles and bits of wood went into the brook. The whole cargo was sunk and lost as surely as if Ted's pirate vessel had captured that of his sister. That is, everything sank but the ship itself and the cargo of little sticks, some of which Janet was pretending were chocolate cakes. Even at that, I suppose, the chocolate cakes would be wet and soggy. And soggy chocolate cake isn't good to eat. The best thing you can do with it is to make it into a pudding. "Oh, Ted! look what you made me do," cried Janet sadly, as she saw the ship, which she had loaded with such care, capsized and cleared of its cargo. "It's all your fault!" And then she started in surprise as a babyish voice replied: "I 'idn't do nuffin! I 'ust comed! What's matter, Jan?" "Oh, it's you, is it, Trouble?" asked the girl, as she turned and saw, instead of Teddy, her smaller brother William, more often called "Trouble," because he was in it so often. "Yep! Me is here!" announced Trouble. Sometimes he talked more correctly than this, and his mother had told Janet and Teddy to try to cure him of his baby talk and the wrong use of words. But Ted and Jan thought it was "cute" to hear Trouble say queer things, so they did not mend his talk as often as they might. "I thought you were Ted," went on Janet. "Did you see him? He went up to the house to get a flag." "Flag," returned Trouble, in a questioning voice. "Goin' to be soldiers an' have a 'rade?" He meant parade, of course. "No, we aren't going to have a parade now, Trouble," said Janet. "Ted went to get a black flag to be a pirate, so he could sink my ship that was loaded with diamonds, gold and chocolate cakes." "I want chocolate cake--two pieces!" demanded Trouble, who had ears only for the last words of his sister. "There wasn't any chocolate cake--really, dear," explained the little girl, as she ruffled up her curly hair. "Ted and I were just pretending. He is going to have a pirate ship. I didn't want him to get mine, so I was shoving it hard down the brook, but I made it go too fast and it upset. Now I've got to load my ship all over again." "I want s'ip!" demanded William, as Jan began to guide her empty vessel back to shore by means of the long stick. "Trouble have a s'ip?" he asked. "Yes, you may have a ship, and play with us," Janet said, and as she was looking about for a board which might serve her little brother to play with, she heard someone coming through the bushes. "I guess this is Ted," thought Janet. "Anyhow he can't sink my ship now. I did it myself." It was her older brother, and he now came bursting through the shrubbery that lined the bank of the brook, holding in his hands a piece of black cloth. "I got the pirate flag!" cried Teddy. "Whoop-la! Now I'm going to sink your ship! Why, what happened?" he asked, as he saw that Janet's craft was empty. "Did Trouble upset it?" "No, I did it myself," Janet answered. "But I didn't mean to. I was trying to hide it from you, 'cause I don't want you to be a pirate and upset my ship full of chocolate cakes." "Oh, I must be a pirate! Here's the black flag and I must be a pirate!" shouted Teddy. "Whoop! I'm a pirate! I'm a pirate!" "Hoo! Hoo! Hoop!" yelled Trouble, trying to make as much noise as his brother. "You sound more like an Indian than you do a pirate," said Janet, as she began to pile more pebbles on the board that was her ship. "Well, Indians and pirates are 'most the same," declared Teddy. "Wait till you see my ship, with swords and guns and powder! It will blow your ship out of the water, and I'll have a black flag on it and everything! Whoop!" "I'm not going to play if you upset my ship, now there!" and Janet pouted her lips and ceased loading pebbles aboard her craft. Teddy, who was cutting a flagstaff with his knife, stopped to look at her. If Janet was going to act this way, and not send out her ship, there was no use in being a pirate. What fun could even a make-believe pirate have if there were no ships to sink? Teddy thought of this, and then he said: "All right, Jan, I won't be a pirate if you don't want me to. But I'll have a black flag, anyhow, and maybe I'll be a pirate some other time. Let's have a race with our ships--see which one gets to the water-wheel first." "Yes, I'll do that," agreed Janet. At the lower end of the brook she and Teddy had built a little dam, and where the water flowed over the top, like a tiny Niagara Falls, Teddy had fastened a wooden paddle wheel which turned as the water flowed on it. "Me want a s'ip!" wailed Trouble, as he saw his brother and sister getting their vessels ready for the race. "Can't you give him a piece of board for his ship, Ted?" asked Janet. "If we don't he'll get in our way and spoil the race." "Here, Trouble, take this," and Teddy paused long enough in his work of loading pebbles on his ship to toss his little brother a small chip he picked up off the shore. "Hu! I want bigger s'ip 'n' _him_!" declared Trouble, with a grunt. Then he arose and toddled off through the bushes. Teddy and Janet were so busy getting their own vessels ready for the coming race that they paid no more attention to their small brother. And Trouble was going to get into trouble--you may be sure of that. "Don't put too many stones on your ship, Jan," called Ted to his sister, as he saw that she was piling on the pebbles. "Why not?" she asked. "'Cause you'll make it so heavy that it won't sail fast. Course I want to beat you," Ted went on, "but I want to beat you _fair_." "Oh, thank you," Janet answered. "But these aren't stones I'm loading on my ship this time." "What are they?" asked Ted. "Feathers," his sister answered. "I'm making believe the stones are feathers, and I'm going to sell them to make pillows for dolls. My ship won't be too heavy!" "Hu!" grunted Ted, as he placed the pebbles carefully on the middle of his ship, so it would not turn over. "Stones are heavy, whether you make believe they're feathers or not. Don't put too many on, I'm telling you!" "All right, I won't," agreed Janet. The boy and the girl went on with their game, and they were almost ready to start their ships off on the race when there was a racket in the bushes back of them. It was a bumping, banging sound that Ted and Janet heard, then followed the bark of a dog. "That's Skyrocket!" said Ted. A moment later came a voice, calling: "Whoa-up! Don't go so fas'! You is spillin' me!" "That's Trouble!" declared Janet. They were both right. A moment later there burst through the bushes the little boy and the dog. The dog was Skyrocket, and he was made fast to a box which he was dragging along by a rope tied around his neck. Trouble was holding to the rear of the box, and in his eagerness to pull it along Skyrocket was also dragging Trouble, "spillin'" him, in fact--that is, pulling Trouble off his feet every now and then. "Why, William! what are you doing?" asked Janet. Trouble was hardly ever called by his right name of William unless he had done something wrong. "Were you trying to have Skyrocket ride you in that box?" asked Teddy. "If you were, he can't. Sky can't pull you in that box unless it has wheels on it. Then it's a wagon." "Don't want wagon--dis my s'ip!" announced the little fellow, as he began to loosen the rope from the dog's neck. But as soon as Trouble started to do this, Skyrocket, who loved the children, began to lick William's face with a red tongue. "'Top it! 'Top it!" commanded Trouble, but Skyrocket only licked the more. "Oh, Ted, unfasten Sky, or he'll eat Trouble up!" laughed Janet. "Are you going to sail that big box for your ship, Trouble?" asked Ted, as he loosed the dog. "Yep! Dis box my s'ip," announced the small boy. "I sail it!" "Well, don't sail it near ours or you'll upset our ships--yours is so much larger, dear," begged Janet. "I be ca'eful!" Trouble promised. "I find this big box for my s'ip in kitchen, an' Sky drag it here for me!" "Yes, Skyrocket is a good dog," said Ted. "Hi there! Don't wag your tail so near my ship, or you'll upset her before I beat Jan in the race!" shouted Teddy, as the dog, in his joy at being with the Curlytops, nearly spoiled their plans for having fun. "Here! Go chase that!" cried Ted, tossing a stick far down the brook. And as Skyrocket splashed into the water after it, a loud whistle was heard across the field on the other side of the brook. "There's the postman!" called Janet. "Yes, he's coming here, and he's got a letter in his hand," announced Teddy. "He's taking the short cut." Sometimes the mail carrier came across the lots near the Martin home, as he was doing on this occasion. The Curlytops ceased the loading of their ships long enough to run and meet the carrier. "There's a letter for your mother," the postman said, as he handed the missive to Ted. "Don't drop it in the brook." "I won't," promised the boy. "I wonder who the letter is from?" he went on, as the postman continued over the lots to his next stopping place, blowing his whistle on the way. "Any mail, children?" called a voice. "There's mother, now!" said Janet. "Yes, here's a letter," called Ted. His mother had walked down to the brook from the house, along the back path, to see what her Curlytops and Trouble were doing. Mrs. Martin opened and read the letter as Ted and Janet went back to their play, and as she turned the pages she gave an exclamation of wonder. "What is it?" asked Ted, looking up as he placed the last pebble on his ship. "This is a letter from your Uncle Toby," said Mrs. Martin, "and there is strange news in it. I wonder what it means? This is very queer!" She started to read the letter again, but at that moment Janet cried: "Oh, look at Trouble! Just look at him! He's sailing away down the brook! Oh, he'll be drowned!" CHAPTER II AN AUTOMOBILE RIDE Mrs. Martin dropped the letter from Uncle Toby. It fluttered to the ground as she hastened down the bank of the brook in which Trouble was sailing away, aboard the small box he had brought to play with as his "s'ip." "William! William Anthony Martin! Come right back here!" called Mrs. Martin. "Come back!" Poor William would have been glad enough to do this, but he could not. He had stepped into the box, shoved it out from shore with a pole as he had seen Janet poling her tiny ship along, and then the current of the stream had carried poor Trouble away. He was floating down the brook, which was quite deep in some places. "Oh, Trouble! Trouble! What shall I do?" cried his mother. "I'll run up to the house and get the rake, and we can hook it on the edge of his box and pull him out!" shouted Janet. "I'll get him myself!" called Ted, and, not thinking that he had on his shoes and stockings, into the water he dashed, following after the floating box in which Trouble was riding. As for the little fellow himself, he had been overjoyed, at first, when he found that he was afloat. But as the water came leaking through the cracks in the box Trouble became frightened. "Oh, Momsie! Come an' det me! Come an' det me!" he wailed. "Mother's coming!" called Mrs. Martin, as she caught up a long stick and, running along the edge of the brook, tried to reach out and hook it over the side of the box-ship in which William was sailing away. And while the mother, brother and sister of the little chap are going to his rescue, I will take just a moment or two and tell you something about the Martin children, and why they are called the "Curlytops." The reason for the odd, pretty name is not hard to find. It was in their hair--they had the cutest, curliest curly hair that ever grew on the heads of any children anywhere in the world. So it is no wonder they were called "Curlytops." Some of you were introduced to them in the first book of this series, "The Curlytops at Cherry Farm," which told of their adventures in the country. After that they had more adventures on "Star Island," where they went camping with Grandpa. The fun on the island was wonderful, even more wonderful were their adventures when they were "Snowed In" and when the Curlytops went to Uncle Frank's ranch, and rode on ponyback. Ted, Janet and Trouble thought they had never seen such good times in all their lives. They helped solve a strange mystery, too. The book just before this one that you are reading is named "The Curlytops at Silver Lake," and in that you may learn what Ted, Janet and Trouble did when they went on the water with Uncle Ben, and how they helped capture some bad men. The summer had been filled with adventures, and there were some good times in the winter that followed. Now it was summer again, and the Curlytops were ready for more fun. Mr. Richard Martin was the father of the Curlytops. He was a storekeeper in the city of Cresco, in one of our eastern states. There were just three of the Curlytops, Theodore Baradale, Janet and William Anthony Martin. But Theodore was nearly always called Ted or Teddy, Janet's name was shortened to Jan and William answered to the call of Trouble as often as to any other. In addition to the children there was Skyrocket, the dog, and Turnover, the cat. The cat was called that name because she had a trick of lying down and rolling over when she wanted something to eat. There had also been Nicknack, a goat, and Clipclap, a pony, but these had been sent away for a time, and the dog and cat were the only pets the children had at present. But they were soon going to have more, as I will tell you presently. It was a warm, pleasant, sunny day when Ted and Jan went down to the brook to play that pieces of boards were their "ships." Then Trouble had joined them, and, just after the mail carrier left the strange letter from Uncle Toby, Trouble had, as usual, gotten into trouble. Janet and Teddy were not quite certain who Uncle Toby might be. They had heard of him, once or twice, as a distant relative of their father or their mother, but they had not seen him in a number of years. They only dimly remembered him as an old man who lived in a city about fifty miles from Cresco, but they had not visited him in some time. Just now the plight of Trouble so filled the minds of Ted and Jan that they had no thought for Uncle Toby or his strange letter. Nor did Mrs. Martin give any heed to the missive she had dropped. "Be careful, Teddy!" she called, as she saw her older son splashing his way through the water. "Don't fall!" "I--I won't, Mother! Not if--if I--I can help----" But just as Teddy got that far he stumbled on a round stone in the brook, and down he went with a splash! "Oh, he'll be drowned!" screamed Janet, who was following her mother along the bank of the brook, while Trouble was out in the middle in his leaking, packing-box ship that Skyrocket had pulled to the stream for him. The dog, who had found the stick which Teddy threw, had rushed back, and was now barking as loudly as he could. But the water was not deep enough to drown Teddy. It, however, made him very wet. Up he rose, dripping all over, and gasping for breath. Mrs. Martin paused only long enough to look back and see that Teddy was all right, and then hurried along, trying to pull toward her, with the long stick, the floating box and her little son. "Det me out! Det me out! I is all wet--I is!" cried Trouble. "My hoots is all wet!" Sometimes the letter "f" bothered him, and he put an "h" in its place, as saying "hoots" for "foots." Of course neither word was right, but who minded a thing like that when poor Trouble was in such a plight? "I'll get him!" cried Teddy, as he caught his breath. Then he wiped some of the water from his face, and dashed on down the brook. But by this time the packing box, in which Trouble was taking more of a ride than he had counted on, was some distance down the brook. However, Mrs. Martin was keeping alongside of it, though it was beyond even the reach of her long stick. "If we were on the other side you could reach him and pull him to shore, Mother!" called Janet. "Oh, I must get over on the other side--but the brook is deep here!" said Mrs. Martin. She was going to forget that, however, and splash in, when the box, by some twist of the current, suddenly floated near the bank along which she was running. "Grab it--quick!" cried Janet. "Let me get it--I'm coming!" shouted Teddy, and, indeed, he was splashing his way down the brook, but some distance behind his little brother. "Oh, det me out! My hoots is awful wet!" wailed the small chap in the packing-box boat. And just then Mrs. Martin was able to reach out her stick, hook one end of it over the edge of the box and pull it to shore. "You poor little fellow! Was mother's Trouble frightened to pieces?" murmured Mrs. Martin as she lifted her youngest out of the box, and, never minding his wet feet, hugged him tightly. The packing box drifted off downstream, Skyrocket racing after it and barking as though it was the best joke in the world. "Were you frightened, William?" murmured his mother. Trouble looked at her, and then at the floating box. "I had a nice wide, but my hoots is all wet," he announced. "I should say they were!" laughed Janet, feeling them. "They're soaking wet! But you're all right now, Trouble!" "And I'm wet, too," said Teddy, coming along just then. Together they walked back along the edge of the brook, Skyrocket following when he found that no one was going to help him play with the empty box, which floated ashore near the dam Teddy had made. As she passed the place where she had dropped Uncle Toby's letter Mrs. Martin picked up the fluttering paper. "I nearly forgot all about this," she said. "Your father will want to know about it. I never heard anything so strange in all my life." "What is it?" asked Teddy. "I'll tell you when you have dry clothes on, and we can sit down and talk it over," his mother promised. And when Trouble, smiling and happy, with a picture book in his hands and dry shoes and stockings on his feet, was safe in a chair, and when Janet and Teddy sat near her, Mrs. Martin read the letter again. "It is from Uncle Toby Bardeen of Pocono," said the mother of the Curlytops. "At least he is your father's uncle, but that doesn't matter. He is an old bachelor, and lives with a distant relative, a Mrs. Watson, in an old, rambling house." "Does he want us to come there for the summer vacation?" asked Janet. It was time, so she and Ted thought, to begin thinking of the summer fun. "No, Uncle Toby doesn't say that," went on Mother Martin, as she glanced over the pages of the letter. "What he wants is for your father to go and take charge of everything that is in the old house--everything, that is, except the housekeeper, Mrs. Watson. She is going off by herself, Uncle Toby says." "Is Uncle Toby--is he--dead, that he wants daddy to take everything in his house?" asked Janet. "Course not! How could he be dead and write this letter?" asked Ted. "Well, maybe he wrote it before he died," Janet suggested. "No, Uncle Toby isn't dead, I'm glad to say," remarked Mrs. Martin. "But he is going away on a long voyage for his health, he writes, and he wants daddy to come and take charge of everything in the old mansion." "Do you s'pose there's a gun there I could have?" asked Teddy hopefully. "I'd like an old-fashioned spinning wheel," said Janet. "Is there one of those, Mother?" "I wants suffin' to eat!" announced Trouble suddenly, but whether he thought it was to be had at Uncle Toby's house or not, it is hard to say. Teddy and Janet laughed, and Trouble looked at them with wondering eyes. "You shall have something to eat, love!" his mother murmured. "I guess your voyage in the packing-box ship made you hungry." "Do you s'pose Uncle Toby would have a gun?" asked Ted again. "If there is one in his house _you_ can't have it, my dear," objected Mrs. Martin. "But I could have the spinning wheel, couldn't I?" asked Janet. "Yes, I suppose so. But maybe there isn't one," her mother answered. "If there is we can play steamboat!" cried Ted, getting quickly over his disappointment about a possible gun. "A spinning wheel is just the thing to steer a make-believe steamer with!" "You're not going to have my spinning wheel for your old steamboat!" declared Janet. "Hush, children!" their mother warned them. "I haven't the least idea what is in Uncle Toby's house, that he should be so mysterious about it, and be in such a hurry for your father to come and take charge." "Is Uncle Toby mysterious?" asked Janet. "Well, yes. He says he hopes the collection will not be too much for us to manage," went on Mrs. Martin, with another look at the letter. "A collection of what?" Ted wanted to know. "That's just it--Uncle Toby doesn't say," his mother replied. "We shall have to wait until your father makes the trip to Pocono." "Oh, may we go?" begged the two Curlytops at once. "We'll see!" was the way in which Mrs. Martin put them off. "I wish your father were here so we could talk over this queer letter from Uncle Toby." "I wis'--I wis' I had suffin' t' _eat_!" put in Trouble wistfully. "And so you shall have, darling!" exclaimed his mother. "It is nearly time for lunch, and daddy will soon be here. Then we'll see what he says." And what Mr. Martin said after, at the lunch table, he had read Uncle Toby's letter was: "Hum!" "What do you think of it?" asked his wife. "I think it's as queer as he is," said the father of the Curlytops, smiling. "Uncle Toby is a dear old man, but very queer. So he wants me to come and take charge of his 'collection,' does he? It's strange that he doesn't say what his collection is." "Maybe it's postage stamps," suggested Ted. Once he had started to make a collection like that but he had given it up. "And maybe it's a collection of--money!" said Janet. "That would be very fine!" laughed her father. "But though Uncle Toby is well off, I hardly think he has a collection of money lying around his old mansion. However, I suppose I must go and see what it is the queer fellow wants me to take charge of for him." "May we go?" chorused Ted and Janet again. "Oh, I suppose so," agreed their father, and this was better than the "I'll see," of their mother. "Me tum too!" declared Trouble. He never wanted to be left behind. "We'll all take an auto trip over to Pocono to-morrow and see what Uncle Toby has," decided Mr. Martin. Accordingly, the next day, Mr. Martin left his manager in charge of the store, and, in the comfortable family automobile, the Curlytops and their father, mother and Trouble--not forgetting Skyrocket, the dog--started off. It was just as fine a day as the previous one, when Trouble had sailed down the brook. The grass was green, the birds sang, and the wind blew gently in the trees. "Oh, it's summer, and there's no school and well have lots of fun!" sang Janet. "Maybe we'll have fun with what we find at Uncle Toby's house," suggested Ted. And neither of the Curlytops realized how much fun nor what strange adventures were in store for them. The automobile started down a rather steep hill, and Mrs. Martin, who was on the front seat with her husband, looked back to see that the three children were safe. "Hold on to Trouble!" she told Janet. "He might bounce out. The road is very rough!" "Yes, it isn't very safe, either," murmured Mr. Martin. "I hope nothing happens." Hardly had he spoken than there was a loud bang close behind him. He jammed on the brakes and cried: "Tire's burst! Hold tight--everybody!" Then the automobile slid over to one side of the road and Janet cried: "Oh, Trouble! Trouble!" CHAPTER III THE QUEER OLD LADY For a little while it seemed as though something serious had happened in the automobile which was taking the Curlytops to Uncle Toby's house. Mr. Martin had all he could do to slow up the machine, bringing it to a stop beside the road, and under a tree. If a tire had burst or been punctured Daddy Martin wanted to be in the shade to fix it. Mother Martin, holding tightly to the side of the seat when the banging noise sounded, turned to look behind her to see if the three children were all right. She saw Trouble sitting between Ted and Janet, and William was looking at something in his chubby hand. "What happened?" asked Mrs. Martin. "Were any of you hurt when the tire burst?" "The tire didn't burst, Mother," answered Teddy. "Why, I heard it," said Mr. Martin, as he prepared to get out of the machine, which had now come to a stop. "I must have run over a sharp stone or a broken bottle." "No, it wasn't the tire," said Janet, and she laughed. "It was Trouble's toy balloon. He blew it up too big and it burst." "That's what it was! And a piece of the rubber hit me in the eye!" laughed Ted. "My 'loon all gone!" wailed William. "So that's what it was--a burst toy balloon," said Daddy Martin. "Well, I'm glad it wasn't one of my tires." "So am I," said Mother Martin. "It is too hot to have to change a tire to-day. Besides, I'm in a hurry to get to Uncle Toby's and see what it is he wants us to take charge of while he is away. I hope he doesn't go until we get there." "You never can tell what Uncle Toby is going to do," said Mr. Martin, smiling, now that he knew he had no tire to change. "And so you burst your toy balloon, did you, Trouble? Well, I'll have to get you another, but not while we're on this auto ride. I don't want to be frightened again, and I might be if you blew up another balloon and it burst." "I didn't know he had one with him," remarked Mrs. Martin, as Trouble looked sadly at what was left of his toy. "I didn't either," Janet said. "All of a sudden he took it out of his pocket and began to blow it up." "I was makin' be'eve it were a wed soap bubbles," explained Trouble. "Well, soap bubbles or not, it burst," said Teddy. "It sure did make a noise! But now we can go on. I want to see if Uncle Toby is going to leave any guns." "And I want a spinning wheel," Janet murmured. "But you can't take it to play steamboat with," she told her brother. "I shan't want it if I have a gun!" retorted Ted. "Now, children, be nice," begged their mother. Daddy Martin started the automobile again, first getting out to look at the four tires, to make sure none was flat, punctured or burst. They were all round, plump and as fat as big bologna sausages. "Now we go to Uncle Toby. Maybe I get a kittie cat!" said Trouble, when he decided to smile after feeling so bad about his burst balloon. "A kittie cat!" exclaimed Janet. "Why, we have a lovely cat, Trouble. Don't you like Turnover?" "Yep! But I 'ikes a kittie cat, too. Maybe Uncle Toby hab one for me!" "Probably Uncle Toby is too old a man to bother with pet cats," said Mrs. Martin. But it only goes to show that you never know what is going to happen in this world--sometimes you don't even know what you are going to have for dinner. Along rolled the automobile, taking the Curlytops nearer and nearer to the city of Pocono, where Uncle Toby lived with his housekeeper, Mrs. Watson. But it was rather a long ride, and, about half way, the party stopped in a little village for lunch. "Did we bring any lunch with us, or are we going in a place to eat?" asked Ted. "Oh, I hope we go in a place to eat!" exclaimed Janet. "I like a restaurant, don't you, Ted?" "Sure!" answered the Curlytop boy. "Yes, we are going to a restaurant," his mother told them. "Daddy wants to get some oil and gasoline for the auto, too." "It's sort of feeding the auto, isn't it, Mother?" asked Janet, as they alighted. "In a way, yes," admitted Mrs. Martin. A little later the Curlytops were having a fine meal, and when I say the Curlytops I mean also Daddy and Mother Martin, and Trouble. The hair of Mr. and Mrs. Martin did not curl, though it must have done so when they were younger; or else how would Ted and Janet have had such beautiful ringlets? Nor did Trouble's hair curl, though when he was smaller his mother used to wind little ringlets around her finger, hoping he would have locks as pretty as those of Janet and Ted. But, really, the older boy and girl were the only ones who could, truly, be called Curlytops, though I sometimes speak of the "Curlytop family." So you know, when I say that the "Curlytops" were eating lunch, that all five of them were enjoying their meal. There were several things that Janet, Teddy and Trouble liked to eat, and toward the end of the meal there was a piece of pie for each of them. And it was toward the end of the meal that something happened, and Trouble, as usual, was the cause of it. Just before the waiter had brought the pie there had sounded, out in the street, the music of a hand organ. No sooner had he heard this than Trouble slipped from his chair (where he had been sitting on a hassock to make him higher) and ran to the window. "No monkey!" called out the little fellow, after he had stood for a moment with his nose pressed against the pane of glass, making his "smeller," as he sometimes called it, quite flat. "Hand-organ grinder got no monkey!" Trouble was disappointed. He had hoped to see a little monkey scrambling around to gather pennies in his cap. But this hand-organ player did not have any. And there was nothing much for Trouble to see. So the little fellow came back to the table, but not before he had stopped at the big water-cooler in one corner of the dining room. Trouble paused to watch a waiter turn the shiny little faucet and draw a glass of water for a customer. "Come and get your pie, William," his mother called to him. She very seldom mentioned him as "Trouble," before strangers. So this time Mrs. Martin called her little boy by his right name. "Do you want me to eat your pie?" teased Ted. "No! I eat my own pie!" Trouble exclaimed, and he climbed up into his chair, being helped by his father, next to whom he sat. The meal was almost over, and Daddy Martin was wondering what his Uncle Toby could want him to take charge of, when Mrs. Martin gave a sudden start, a sort of shiver, and said: "Why, my feet are getting wet!" "Your feet wet!" exclaimed her husband. "Surely it isn't raining in here! It isn't even raining outside!" he laughed, as he looked from a window. "But my feet are damp," went on Mrs. Martin. Then she raised the cloth, which hung down rather low on each side of the table, and glanced at the floor. "There's a big puddle of water under our table!" she cried. Then Ted looked over toward the big water-cooler in one corner of the restaurant. "Somebody left the faucet open!" cried Teddy. "The ice water is all running out! No wonder your feet are wet, Mother!" Mr. Martin hastily left his chair and turned off the faucet, and, as he did so, he looked at Trouble. Something in the face of that youngster caused Daddy Martin to ask: "William, did you do that?" "I--I dess maybe I turned it on a 'ittle bit!" confessed the mischievous one. "A _little_ bit!" cried Janet, as she looked under the table. "Why, there's almost as much water as there is in our brook at home!" "Oh, not quite so much," said her mother gently. "Though there is enough to have wet through the soles of my shoes. I was wondering why my feet felt so damp and cold. And did Trouble turn on the water? Oh, Trouble!" All eyes gazed at the little fellow, and he seemed to think he should explain what he had done. "I 'ist turned de handle a teeny bit," he said, "to make a 'ittle water come out. An' den I fordot 'bout it!" That was just what he had done. Seeing the waiter draw a glass of water from the cooler had given Trouble the idea that he soon afterward carried out. When he saw no monkey with the hand organ, the little fellow had gone back to his seat and, on the way, opened the faucet so that the water ran out in a little stream. Soon the drip-pan was full and then the water began trickling over the floor. No one noticed it until it had made a little puddle under the table, just at the point where Mrs. Martin's feet were. "Oh, Trouble! what will you do next?" sighed the little fellow's mother. "No harm done at all! None whatever!" said the waiter, coming up to the table smiling. "That little water on the floor I will wipe up so quick you will never see it." "No, it won't hurt the floor much," Mr. Martin said. "And I suppose your shoes will dry out," he told his wife. "But, all the same, William should not have done it." "I won't do it any more," said the little fellow. "I be good now! I sorry!" He generally was when he had done something like that. However, as the waiter had said, little real harm was done, and Mrs. Martin's shoes would dry, for it was a hot, summer day. The meal was finished and they all took their places in the automobile again to finish the ride to Uncle Toby's place, about twenty miles farther on. Once again Trouble, Ted and Janet sat in the rear seat, while their father and mother rode in front. And this time Trouble had no red balloon which he could blow up, making it burst with a noise like a punctured tire. The children talked among themselves, wondering over and over again what it could be that Uncle Toby wanted their father to come and take charge of. "Maybe he's got a little boy or a girl from an orphan asylum, and he wants us to take it to live with us," suggested Janet. "A boy would be all right," decided Ted, as he thought of this. "I could have fun with another fellow." "And I'd like a girl," said Janet. "I always wished I had a sister." "Maybe they're twins--a boy and a girl," Ted went on. "That would be fun!" "What would be fun?" asked his mother from the front seat, where she had heard the talk of the children. She often asked a question like this, as it sometimes stopped a bit of mischief that, otherwise, might happen. "What fun are you talking about?" asked Mrs. Martin. "Uncle Toby," answered Janet. "I thought maybe what he wanted daddy to take charge of was a little orphan girl." "And I thought maybe it was a boy," added Ted. "And then we both thought maybe it was twins--a boy and a girl, and we'd each have someone to play with," went on Janet. "My! I don't believe Uncle Toby has adopted any orphan children that he wants us to take," Mrs. Martin said. "I can't imagine what he really has, but we'll soon find out." On and on they rode in the automobile, until, after a while, they reached the small city of Pocono and, a little later, they pulled up in front of Uncle Toby's house. It was a rambling, old mansion that once had looked very nice, but now it was rather shabby and needed painting. "Here is where Uncle Toby lives," said Daddy Martin. "Do you children remember it?" "A little," admitted Ted. Neither he nor Janet had been there in years, and Trouble had never visited Uncle Toby. "I wonder if he's at home," went on Daddy Martin, as he alighted from the automobile. "There's someone on the porch," said Mrs. Martin. "Oh, it's Mrs. Watson, the housekeeper," she added. "But something seems to be the matter! I wonder what can have happened?" As Mother Martin spoke a queer little old lady came down off the porch and along the walk, hurrying out to meet the Curlytops, all of whom were now at the front gate. "Wait! Don't go in! Don't go in!" cried the queer old lady, holding up her hand like a traffic policeman stopping a fast automobile. "Don't go in! They're having a terrible time! Oh, that Mr. Bardeen ever should have gone away and left me to look after 'em! Oh, the trouble I have had! Such trouble! Don't go in! Listen to 'em!" As she spoke there came strange sounds from the grim old house where Uncle Toby lived! Very strange sounds! CHAPTER IV UNCLE TOBY'S PETS "Listen to that noise!" called Teddy, pausing with his hand on the gate that led into Uncle Toby's yard. "It's two boys having fun. I guess Uncle Toby left two fellows that you can take home and I can have fun with," Teddy added laughingly to his father. "Two boys! Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin. Just then a shrill scream sounded from within the queer, old house. "It's girls!" said Janet. "Girls cry just like that when they're having fun! Oh, I'll be glad to have a sister to play with!" Mr. and Mrs. Martin looked at each other in surprise and wonderment. What could it mean? The queer, little old lady--Mrs. Watson, the housekeeper--murmured again: "Listen to 'em! I can't do a thing with 'em since Uncle Toby went away. I'm so glad you came to take charge of 'em as he asked you to. You did come for that, didn't you?" she asked eagerly. "You got Uncle Toby's letter, asking you to come and take charge of the collection he left, didn't you?" "Oh, yes," answered the father of the Curlytops. "We got Uncle Toby's letter all right, and we came to take charge. But----" "We'd like to know _what_ we are going to take!" interrupted Mrs. Martin. She felt she must say something, with all those queer noises going on in the house. "Maybe it's babies!" suggested Trouble, as he listened to what seemed to be a crying sound from the old mansion. "They're worse than babies!" declared Mrs. Watson. "I don't mind children and babies. But these things make so much noise I can't hear myself think. That's why I came out on the steps to sit down and be quiet! Oh, I'm so glad you've come to take charge of 'em!" "But what are they? You haven't told us what they are," said Mr. Martin, as the screeching, yelling noises kept on sounding from within the house. "Do they always screech like that?" "Only when they're hungry," said the queer old lady. "And I expect they're hungry now. I just hate to go in to feed them, they make such a fuss, and I'm afraid some of 'em will bite me. Not on purpose you know," she quickly added, "but just because they're so playful and full of fun." "My dear Mrs. Watson," said Mr. Martin in slow tones, "will you _please_ tell us what it is my Uncle Toby has left for me to take charge of! Is it an insane asylum?" "Yes, for goodness' sake, please tell us!" begged the mother of the Curlytops. "Why, I thought you knew!" replied Mrs. Watson, in some surprise. "Didn't Uncle Toby speak of them in his letter?" "No, he did not say what they were," answered Mr. Martin. "He only mentioned a collection. Please tell us. What is making all that racket?" "Uncle Toby's pets," was the answer. "Uncle Toby said he was going to leave them to you when he went away on a long trip. He may be gone for several years, and he said he might live the rest of his life in South America, where he is going. So he told me to give you his pets to take charge of. You are to take them, and do as you please with them, though I guess Uncle Toby would like to have you keep them and be kind to them." "Uncle Toby's _pets_!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin. "Is there a dog?" asked Teddy, his eyes shining in delight. "Won't Skyrocket be glad? Do you hear that, old fellow?" went on Teddy, leaning down to pet the dog that had jumped from the automobile and was looking as if in wonder at the house whence came such strange noises. "You're going to have another dog to play with. Uncle Toby did leave a dog, didn't he?" Teddy asked of Mrs. Watson. "I hear a dog barking in the house." "A dog!" exclaimed the queer little old housekeeper. "He left _two_ dogs, Uncle Toby did!" "Two dogs!" murmured Mrs. Martin, with a hopeless look at her husband. "Did he leave a cat?" asked Janet. "I thought I heard one mewing. And Turnover would like another cat to play with." "Yes, Uncle Toby left you a cat, also," said Mrs. Watson. Just then shrill screams, barks, squeaks and squawks, all mixed together, seemed to float out of the opened windows of the old house--windows in which were strong wire screens. "Two dogs and a cat!" exclaimed Mr. Martin. "My dear Mrs. Watson," he went on, as he sat down on the top step of the porch rather limply, "will you please tell us, as fast as you can, just how many and what pets Uncle Toby has left us? We may as well hear the worst at once," he said to his wife. "I never imagined Uncle Toby cared for animal pets." "Oh, indeed he did," replied Mrs. Watson. "Of late years he grew very fond of animals. All his pets are animals, and he'd have gotten more only I said I wouldn't stay and keep house for him if he brought in what he spoke of last." "What was that?" Mrs. Martin wanted to know. "_Snakes_!" declared the little old lady. "I don't mind monkeys and parrots so much, but I can't bear _snakes_! They give me the shivers, though Uncle Toby said some snakes do a lot of good in this world, by catching rats and mice. But he didn't bring in any snakes!" "Do you mean to say he has a parrot?" asked Mr. Martin. "Don't you hear him?" questioned Mrs. Watson. "Listen!" As she finished speaking the Curlytops heard a shrill: "Cracker! Cracker! Give Polly a crack-crack-cracker!" "Oh, it _is_ a parrot!" cried Janet in delight. "And is there a monkey, too?" demanded Ted. "An' a han' ordan! Is dere a han' ordan?" asked Trouble. "No hand organ, child, no," answered Mrs. Watson. "But there is a monkey, a parrot, two dogs, and a cat, a----" "Stop! Wait a moment!" begged Mrs. Martin. She took a seat beside her husband on the top step. "I just wanted to sit down before I fainted when I heard the worst," she went on. "Now go ahead, Mrs. Watson. Tell me the rest. I'll have something to lean against in case she tells me there's an elephant." "An elephant!" cried Janet. "Oh, I don't mean I want to lean on the elephant," said her mother. "I just want to lean against the piazza post. This is the worst I ever heard of--Uncle Toby leaving us a menagerie!" "'Tisn't quite as bad as that, though 'tis, almost," said Mrs. Watson. "There isn't an elephant, but there is an alligator." "An alligator! Oh, that's great!" cried Ted. "Where is it?" "This is terrible!" declared his mother. "It's only a little alligator," explained the housekeeper. "He's real friendly, though his tail scratches when he rubs it against your hand as you feed him." "Anything else?" asked Mr. Martin. "Please go on. We may as well hear the worst. It sounds like a circus that Uncle Toby kept in his house. What else, Mrs. Watson?" "Well? that's about all, except some white rats and mice and the pigeons. Uncle Toby didn't get the snake he wanted." "Let us be thankful for that," murmured Mrs. Martin, "though it is bad enough as it is." "Bad?" cried Teddy. "I think it's jolly! Can't we go in and see Uncle Toby's pets?" he asked. "They're going to be our pets, aren't they, Daddy?" asked Jan. "Didn't Uncle Toby say you could have them?" "That's what he said," replied the father of the Curlytops. "But I don't know whether to take him at his word or not. But we may as well go in and look at the--the menagerie!" he said to his wife, with a smile. "They'll need feeding--the animals will," said Mrs. Watson. "I'm glad you're here to help me. I was staying only until you came. Uncle Toby said you'd be over in a day or two. I'm leaving to-night, now you're here." "What? And make us take care of all the pets?" cried Mrs. Martin. "Oh, they're real kind and gentle--every one, even the little alligator," Uncle Toby's housekeeper made haste to say. "And as long as you have children the pets will be just the things for the Curlytops. Only I can't stay much longer. I was just waiting for you. I went outside as it was quieter," she concluded, as, once again, the pet animals set up a screeching, barking and mewing. "Well, let's get it over with," suggested Mr. Martin. "Maybe they'll be quieter if we feed them. Is there anything in the house for the menagerie to eat?" he asked the little old housekeeper. "Oh, yes, Uncle Toby always fed them well," she answered. "Oh, I'm so glad you came to take charge of the pets!" "I don't know whether we are or not," remarked Mrs. Martin. "I suppose, though," she said to her husband in a low voice, as they prepared to enter the house, "we can sell them. We don't have to keep them." "Yes, I guess that would be best--to sell them," agreed Mr. Martin, but he did not let the Curlytops hear him say this. Led by Mrs. Watson, the Curlytop party entered the house. As the door was opened the different noises sounded more loudly than before. The dogs barked--and Ted could now hear the tones of two different animals--the cat mewed, the monkey screeched and chattered, and the parrot cried: "Give Polly a cracker! Polly wants a crack-crack-cracker!" "I guess the alligator is the only one that isn't saying anything," remarked Mr. Martin to his wife as they entered. "And I never heard that alligators make a noise." "Yes they do!" said Janet, eagerly. "I read it in my natural history book. They make a noise like a grunt. At least it's either alligators or crocodiles, I've forgotten which. But one kind bellows like a bull." "Goodness! Let us hope this one doesn't!" sighed Mrs. Martin. "Who would ever think that Uncle Toby would keep a menagerie!" she murmured. "I never did," agreed her husband. "They're all in one big room--a sort of addition to the house. It opens off the dining room," explained Mrs. Watson. "Uncle Toby liked to eat when his pets did, that's why he had 'em so near him in the dining room. I'll show 'em to you." "Are the pigeons out there, too?" asked Mrs. Martin. "No, Uncle Toby kept them in the barn," the housekeeper replied. "If you don't want the pigeons, Uncle Toby told me to tell you there's a boy in this same street who will take them. But Uncle Toby said he wished you'd take charge of all the other pets." "Oh, yes, Mother--Daddy! Let's keep 'em _all_!" pleaded Janet. By this time Mrs. Watson had opened the door leading into the extra room that Uncle Toby had built to house his pets. No sooner was the door opened than the noise sounded louder than ever, and several things happened. "Oh, look at the lovely cat!" cried Janet, as one with very fluffy fur walked forward as though to meet the Curlytops. "It's a Persian, I guess. Oh, I just love a Persian! Turnover is very nice, but I love this one a lot," and she reached down to stroke the beautiful cat that seemed very friendly. "Oh, look!" suddenly cried Ted. "See! The dogs do tricks!" As he spoke one white poodle came walking along on his hind legs, with his front paws held in a funny fashion before him. "Bow wow!" barked the poodle. And then, as if this might be a signal, there suddenly came from the end of the room another white poodle, so nearly like the first that it was difficult to tell them apart. "Oh, see! More tricks!" cried Ted. The second dog began turning somersaults. One after another he turned, making his way, in this fashion, to where Ted was patting the head of the poodle that was standing on its hind legs. "Say! I can have a regular circus with these trick dogs!" cried Ted in delight. "And my Persian cat can be in it," added Janet. Just then a cry, as if of fear, came from Trouble. Turning around the Curlytops and others saw a strange sight. A brown monkey was hanging by its tail from an electric chandelier in the middle of the room, and, thus reaching down, was trying to pull Trouble's cap from the little fellow's head. "'Top! 'Top it!" shouted William. "Make han'-ordan monkey let my cap alone!" he wailed. And then, with a flutter and a screech, a green and red parrot flew from its perch and landed on Mrs. Martin's shoulder. The pets of the Curlytops were having a lively time! CHAPTER V TIP AND TOP With the barking of the trick dogs, in which Skyrocket joined, and with the mewing of the Persian cat, the shrieking of the parrot, and the chattering of the monkey, for a time there was so much noise in Uncle Toby's "menagerie," as it was called, that the voices of Mr. and Mrs. Martin could scarcely be heard. But you could hear the voice of Trouble above everything. "Take him off! Make him 'top!" cried the little fellow. For by this time the monkey, having hung down by his tail from the chandelier, and having taken off Trouble's cap, was now trying to pull the little boy's hair. "Bad monkey! Make him go 'way!" cried Trouble. [Illustration: THE SECOND DOG BEGAN TURNING SOMERSAULTS. "The Curlytops and Their Pets." Page 50] "And I don't like this parrot!" said Mrs. Martin, though, to be sure, the bird was gentle enough. It only sat on her shoulder and shrieked: "Crack! Crack! Cracker! I'm a cracker-acker!" "Say, this is great!" cried Ted, as he watched the two dogs, one of which was marching around on his hind legs while the other was turning somersaults. "Oh, it's terrible!" said Mrs. Martin. "Dick," she called to her husband, "can't you make that monkey stop hurting William?" "He isn't exactly hurting him, my dear," replied Mr. Martin. "Though I fancy Trouble is a bit frightened. I was going to take that parrot off your shoulder." "Well, look after William first. He needs it more than I." Mr. Martin advanced toward the monkey, swinging by his tail from the chandelier, when Mrs. Watson, the housekeeper, said: "I'll attend to him! I know how to manage Jack if I don't any of the other animals. I found a way to make him behave. Here!" she suddenly cried, catching up a feather-duster and shaking it at the long-tailed creature. "Get back to your cubby-hole, Jack!" With a shrill chatter the monkey dropped Trouble's cap, which he was trying to make stick on his own head, and a moment later he jumped down from the chandelier and scampered into a box at the side of the room. "That's where he belongs!" said Mrs. Watson. "He's always afraid of that feather-duster. Maybe he thinks it's a big eagle coming to bite his tail. Anyhow, show him the feather-duster whenever you want to quiet him." "That's a good thing to know," said Mr. Martin, when it was a little quieter in the room, because Jack, the monkey, had stopped chattering. "But what shall we do about the parrot on my wife's shoulder?" "Oh, Mr. Nip is all right. He's very gentle," said the housekeeper. "Uncle Toby named him Mr. Nip because he used to nip and bite when he first came. But Uncle Toby soon cured him of that. Mr. Nip is a nice polly." "I'm a crack! I'm a crack! I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" shrieked the parrot, and then he flew from Mrs. Martin's shoulder to the regular perch, near the little cage of the monkey--the "cubby-hole," as Mrs. Watson called it. "Thank goodness!" sighed the mother of the Curlytops. "You scared, Mother?" asked Trouble, who was now wishing the monkey would come back, for after his first fright, the little fellow rather liked the fuzzy chap. "Only a little," said Mrs. Martin, for she thought if the Curlytops were to have anything to do with Uncle Toby's pets, it would not be well for her to say they frightened her. "I 'ike 'em all," remarked Trouble, while Janet was rubbing the big Persian cat and Ted was playing with the two dogs. "Uncle Toby nice man to have all nanimals 'ike dis!" and he looked around the room. Surely there were quite a number of animal pets there. "How in the world did my uncle ever come to have so many?" asked Mr. Martin. "And what in the world are we going to do with them?" "I'll tell you about it after we've fed them," said Mrs. Watson. "They'll be quieter after they're fed, and you might as well start in now to give them something to eat. If you're going to take 'em with you and keep 'em you'll have to feed 'em." With the help of Ted and Janet, who set out food to the dogs and cat, Uncle Toby's animals were soon all being given things to eat, and this made them quiet. Then, while the children stood and watched the animals eat, Mrs. Watson took Daddy and Mother Martin into the next room and told them about Uncle Toby and the pets. "I never knew that my uncle was so fond of animals," said Mr. Martin. "He wasn't, when I first came here to keep house for him," explained Mrs. Watson. "But he made friends, once, with a sailor, who had the parrot. When the sailor started off on his next sea voyage, and didn't want to take Mr. Nip, the parrot, with him, Uncle Toby said the bird could stay here. I didn't much mind that, as it was rather lonesome when Uncle Toby--as I always call him--went out. So I got to liking Mr. Nip. "Then, after a while, another sailor gave Uncle Toby Jack, the monkey. The house was more lively after that, for the monkey and parrot used to fight, though they don't any more. I thought this would be about all the pets Uncle Toby would get; but lo and behold! about a month after that another sailor, hearing that Uncle Toby had a monkey and a parrot, came and asked us if we wouldn't take Slider." "Who is Slider?" asked Mrs. Martin. "It sounds like a pair of roller skates." "Slider is the pet alligator. He came from Florida," explained Mrs. Watson. "Uncle Toby took him in, as he had the monkey and the parrot, and I began to wonder what would happen next." "Did anything?" asked Daddy Martin, as he watched the Curlytops playing in the next room with the pets. "Oh, my land, yes!" exclaimed Mrs. Watson. "It wasn't more than two weeks after he got Slider--that's the alligator--that an old circus man came along with the two dogs, Tip and Top." "Are those their names?" asked Mrs. Martin, watching Ted as he made one of the dogs turn somersaults. "Yes, one of the white poodles--the one with the black spot on his tail--is named Tip," the housekeeper said. "You see the spot is on the tip of his tail." "I can see that--yes," replied Mr. Martin from where he sat. He was wondering where all this was going to end. "And the other dog is named Top," said the housekeeper. "He has a black spot on the top of his head." "They are both very nice, and I like the names, too--Tip and Top," remarked Mrs. Martin. "See!" she exclaimed. "Our own dog, Skyrocket, is making friends with them." Indeed Skyrocket, the Curlytop's dog, was doing this very thing. Perhaps he wanted to learn how to walk on his hind legs and turn somersaults, as Tip and Top could do. "Tip and Top are two valuable dogs," said Mrs. Watson. "They were once in the circus, and it was there they learned to do their tricks, though Uncle Toby taught them others." "Why didn't the circus man keep them if they were so valuable?" asked Mrs. Martin. "The circus man had made friends with the sailor who gave Uncle Toby the alligator," explained the housekeeper, "and the circus man decided to become a sailor, too. He said he didn't want to keep the dogs on a ship, so he gave them to Uncle Toby." "And that's how the menagerie started?" asked Daddy Martin. "That's how it started," said Mrs. Watson. "There were times when I thought it would never end. That was when a lady, who was going to travel for her health, asked Uncle Toby to keep Snuff, her Persian cat." "Is Snuff the cat's name?" asked the mother of the Curlytops. "Yes," answered Mrs. Watson. "It is just the color of snuff, you see, a sort of yellowish brown. Many Persian cats have that color, I'm told. Anyhow this lady--I've forgotten her name--said she saw that Uncle Toby loved animals, as he had so many of them, so she asked him to keep her cat." "And Uncle Toby did," remarked Mrs. Martin. "Uncle Toby surely did!" declared the housekeeper. "It seemed he couldn't say 'no' where animals were concerned. By this time the house began to be rather overrun with pets, so he built this room out of the dining room, with special cages--cubby-holes I call 'em--for the pets. I did think Snuff would be the last one, but after that came the white mice and rats." "It's usually the other way about," said Mrs. Martin, with a smile. "When the cat comes the mice go. But this time the mice came after the cat arrived." "Yes," agreed the housekeeper. "Snuff, the cat, and the white mice--I don't know their names--are great friends. The mice and rats belonged to a boy down the street. His family moved to another state last summer, and his folks made him get rid of the mice. He brought them to Uncle Toby, and of course Uncle Toby couldn't say no, so he kept them. It was then I first threatened to leave. The house was too full of animals." "But you didn't go," said Mrs. Martin. "No, I stayed on, because Uncle Toby begged me to, and he said he wouldn't add to his collection. But then came the pigeons. They were brought by another boy, whose folks moved away and he couldn't keep 'em any more. I didn't so much mind the pigeons, as they stay out in the barn. But we certainly had a houseful of pets! After a while I got rather to liking them, and Uncle Toby was very fond of 'em, and taught 'em many tricks." "But finally, as you know from the letter he wrote you, he decided to take a long trip, and perhaps he may never come back, if he finds he likes it in South America. So he decided to ask you to take charge of his collection, and I said I'd stay until you arrived, as Uncle Toby had to leave in a hurry, to catch a ship that was sailing for South America." "Why did he go there?" asked Mr. Martin. "I think it was because he heard that monkeys and parrots come from there," the housekeeper answered. "He seemed to like those animals better than any others, though Tip and Top, the two dogs, are more valuable, because they can do circus tricks." "They certainly are cute," said Mrs. Martin. "Well, there you have the story of Uncle Toby's pets," said Mrs. Watson, "though I suppose they'll be the Curlytops' pets now, for Uncle Toby said he was going to give you his collection." "Hum! Yes," mused Mr. Martin. "If I had known what the collection was I don't believe I would have come after it." Mrs. Watson began putting on her hat, and from a corner of the room she picked up her valise, which she had already packed. "Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Martin. "I am going away," answered the housekeeper. "My plans are all made. I am going to live with my sister. All she keeps is a cat, and she puts that outside and winds the clock every night before she goes to bed. I'm going to her house. I told Uncle Toby I'd stay until the Curlytops came to take charge of the pets, and, now that you are here, I'll be going." "But I say! Look here! What are we going to do?" asked Mr. Martin. "Why, you're to take charge of the collection," said the housekeeper. "That's what Uncle Toby said in his letter. You are to have the pets!" "But I don't want them! That is, we can't keep so many!" protested Daddy Martin. "Two dogs, a cat, a monkey, a parrot, an alligator and some white rats and mice, to say nothing of the pigeons! And we have a dog and cat now, and we just got rid of a goat and a pony! Oh, I say, my dear Mrs. Watson! This is too much!" "Can't help it!" said the housekeeper as she fastened on her hat. "Uncle Toby said you were to take charge of his collection of pets. That's all I know. If he never comes back--and I don't believe he ever will--the pets are yours to keep. I'd keep them if I were you--all except the pigeons. There's a boy down the street who will take them and be glad to get 'em. The pets are valuable--especially Tip and Top, the dogs. They do tricks separately, but they do more tricks together--a sort of team, you know. Those dogs are very valuable for a show." "Then I know what we can do," said Mr. Martin. "We can sell the pets Uncle Toby left and give the money to a home for children, or something like that. I'll do it--we'll sell the pets!" In another moment--just as if they had been waiting for their father to say this--there came a storm of objections from Ted and Janet. In they ran from the room where they had been playing with the animals. "Oh, don't sell 'em!" pleaded Janet. "Let us keep 'em!" begged Ted. "Those dogs are the best I ever saw! They can do dandy tricks! I could get up a show with them and Skyrocket." "And this cat and our other cat, too," added Janet. "Don't sell Uncle Toby's pets, Daddy! Let us keep them!" Daddy Martin looked at his wife. And then, as if they had been waiting for something like this, Tip and Top did one of their best tricks. Tip began turning somersaults again and Top walked around on his hind legs. Then the two dogs barked, and, without anyone saying a word to them, they did another trick. Tip stopped turning somersaults and stood still. In an instant Top jumped up on Tip's back and stood there on his hind legs. Then Tip walked around the room. "Oh, aren't they too sweet for anything!" cried Janet. "That's a dandy trick!" declared Ted. "Do, please, let us keep Uncle Toby's pets for our own." "Well," said his father slowly, "I don't see how in the world----" But at that moment there came a knock at the door, and the dogs began to bark, the parrot shrieked, the monkey chattered and Snuff, the Persian cat, began to mew. What was going to happen now? CHAPTER VI WHERE IS TIP? "Someone is at the door," said Mrs. Martin to Uncle Toby's housekeeper. "Yes, I hear 'em," answered the queer little old lady. "I 'spect it's the boy after the pigeons. I told him to call as soon as he saw the Curlytops arrive, and he's probably been watching for you. I'll let him in as soon as I finish putting on my hat so I can go." But before this Mr. Martin, who was nearest the door, had opened it, and in came a boy about as old as Teddy, though without the curly locks of that little lad. "Can I have the pigeons?" asked the new boy, taking off his cap and making a little bow to Mrs. Martin, Mrs. Watson and Daddy Martin. "Uncle Toby said I could have 'em if you folks didn't want 'em, and I've been waiting for you to come. I just saw you get here." "Yes! Yes! Take the pigeons! Take any of the animals you want!" begged Mrs. Martin. "I don't see what in the world we are going to do with these animals!" "Oh, keep Tip and Top--the dogs!" begged Teddy. "And Snuff, the cat!" added Janet. "I 'ike monkey if he don't pull my cap off," said Trouble. "'Et's keep him!" "And the white mice and rats wouldn't be much bother," went on Teddy. "We never had a parrot that I can remember," cried Janet. "I could feed him, Mother." "The alligator doesn't make much noise," Ted said. "Dear me! We'll end up by keeping them all, I see!" laughed the father of the Curlytops. "That is, all but the pigeons," he added quickly, as he saw a look of disappointment on the face of the new boy. "You may have them, since Uncle Toby promised them to you." "The pigeons are all I want," said the boy, whose name was Bob Nelson. "My mother won't let me have any of the other pets. And, anyhow, I have a dog and a cat. Could I get the pigeons now? I've got a basket and they are so tame I can pick 'em up. They know me. I used to help Uncle Toby feed 'em." "Yes, you may get them," Mrs. Martin said. "We'll get rid of a few of the pets in that way. But what we are to do with the others, I'm sure I don't know." "You'd better keep 'em," advised Mrs. Watson, who was now almost ready to go. "Uncle Toby wouldn't like it, I'm sure, if you didn't take care of his pets." "Oh, I wouldn't, for the world, have anything happen to them, as he was so fond of them and kind to them," said the mother of the Curlytops. "But we could sell them to some animal store, and, as my husband says, give the money to a home for children. Uncle Toby would like that." "Yes, he was very fond of children and animals," said the housekeeper, as she seemed about to leave. "It's a pity he never had any of his own--any children, I mean," she quickly added. "He did have enough animals. You'd better keep 'em, your children seem fond of 'em," she added. "Oh, the Curlytops love animals," agreed Mr. Martin. "In fact I like them myself, especially Tip and Top, the dogs. I never saw any better trick animals." Tip and Top had quieted down now, as had the other animals after Bob had come in to get the pigeons. "You'd better keep all of Uncle Toby's pets," she concluded. "I'm going now. Just pull the door shut after you and it will lock. The water is turned off and the house is all cleaned out. There isn't any food to spoil, except what the animals need, and you can take that with you. Uncle Toby said I was to go as soon as you arrived to have charge of his collection, and, as you are here, I'm going. Uncle Toby has hired a man to look after the house so it will be all right. Go and get your pigeons, Bob," she added. "Good-bye, everybody," and away she went. For a moment Mr. and Mrs. Martin looked at each other. Then Mr. Nip, the parrot, broke the silence by saying: "I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" "You're a fire-cracker--at least your feathers are red enough for that," laughed Mrs. Martin. "Well, we seem to have the pets whether we want them or not," she told her husband. "We can't go away and leave them here. We can't stay in this house, and try to sell them, if the water is turned off and there is nothing to eat. I guess we'll have to take the pets home with us, Dick." Mr. Martin looked puzzled. "Oh, yes! Please keep them!" begged Ted and Janet. "An' det a han'-ordan fo' de monkey!" begged Trouble, speaking rather more in baby fashion than he usually talked, because he was so excited, I suppose. "At least we'll have to take charge of Uncle Toby's pets until we decide what to do," said Mr. Martin, after a while. "We might keep some of them and sell the others." "Oh, keep them _all_!" exclaimed Ted. "We'll see," his father answered, and from the tone of his voice Ted and his sister were almost sure they would be allowed to have all the animals for their very own. Of course Trouble could hardly expect a hand-organ to go with Jack, the monkey, but that was not much of a loss. "We can't get back home to-night," said Mrs. Martin, "that's sure. It's too far. We'll have to stay either here, at Uncle Toby's house, or at a hotel." "I suppose we could stay here, if we had to," her husband remarked. "I can turn the water on, and it is easy enough to get something to eat, even if we have to buy it at the delicatessen shop." "I just love delicatessen stuff, don't you?" whispered Jan to her brother. "I hope they get a lot! I'll give some to Snuff, the Persian cat." "If we stay it will be just like camping," agreed Ted. While Mr. and Mrs. Martin were considering what to do, Bob, the boy who had come for the pigeons, put his head in through the doorway and called out: "I got 'em all, thank you! I'm going now. I hope you have good luck with Uncle Toby's pets!" "Goodness knows we'll need it," said Mrs. Martin, and then she had to laugh. The whole affair seemed to her to be so very funny. Neither she nor her husband had imagined that Uncle Toby's "collection" could be anything like this--dogs, a parrot, a monkey, a Persian cat and a little alligator, not forgetting the white rats and mice. "Well, we'd better stay here for the night," finally decided Daddy Martin. "It is warm, and Uncle Toby had quite a number of beds. The house is in good order. I'll turn on the water, and you and the children might go to the store and get things for supper," he added. "It will soon be night." "Oh, what fun! We're going to stay here!" cried Janet, dancing around the Persian cat, who was trying to rub against her legs. "And I'll teach Tip and Top some new tricks, so we can have a circus when we get home," remarked Ted. "There's circus enough here," his father said, with a smile. "But trot along, Curlytops, if you are going to get something for us to eat. The animals have been fed and now it is time for us. I'm getting hungry." "Me hundry, too!" declared Trouble. "We mustn't let that happen!" laughed his mother. "We'll go to the store. Come along, Curlytops!" As the children walked down the street with their mother to look for the nearest delicatessen store, they saw the boy Bob carefully wheeling his basket of pigeons toward his own home. He had gotten the birds out of Uncle Toby's barn. When Mrs. Martin and the Curlytops, with Trouble, of course, came back to Uncle Toby's house, they found Daddy Martin sitting in front of the kitchen stove in which he had kindled a fire. In his lap was the Persian cat, purring contentedly, and Mr. Martin was rubbing the long, soft silky fur of Snuff. In front of the father of the Curlytops were Skyrocket, Tip, and Top, the three dogs. They were lying asleep near the fire. In the other room were the mice, the rats, the alligator, the monkey, and the parrot, all the animals quiet, for a wonder, as Mrs. Martin said. "Oh, Daddy! you love 'em, don't you?" exclaimed Jan, as she saw her father surrounded by some of the pets. "We may keep them, mayn't we?" "I'll see about it," was the answer, and Janet whispered to Teddy that she was almost sure this meant "yes." It did not take long to get up a little supper. Daddy Martin ran the automobile into the side yard of Uncle Toby's house, and the Curlytop family, as I sometimes call them, prepared to stay all night. There were plenty of beds, and in the morning they could turn off the water again, take the pets away, close the house, and everything would be as Uncle Toby wished it. You can easily guess that neither of the Curlytops, nor Trouble, for that matter, wanted to go to bed early that night. The children were thinking too much of the pets. And, indeed, the pets seemed to like the children. Mr. Nip, the parrot, let Jan scratch his head, a form of caress of which he seemed very fond. Jack, the monkey, no longer snatched off Trouble's cap. But perhaps that was because baby William did not wear it near the lively chap. Snuff, the Persian cat, seemed to have taken a great liking to Mr. Martin, and as for the dogs, Tip and Top, they were hardly out of the sight of Jan and Ted. Nor was Skyrocket neglected or jealous. He entered into the fun of playing around on the lawn and porch with the white poodles after supper. Even Slider, the little alligator, seemed very friendly. He took bits of meat from the fingers of Ted, though Janet said she was afraid of the scaly creature. "I'm going to teach him some tricks, so he can be in the animal circus," declared Ted. "Are you going to have a circus?" asked his sister. "Sure!" he answered, though, to tell the truth, he had not begun to think of it until he saw all the pets Uncle Toby had left. "We'll have a fine circus!" The evening passed pleasantly. Finally Trouble became sleepy, even though he was much interested in watching Jack, the monkey, crack peanuts. "Come, laddie, you must go to bed!" called Mrs. Martin. "Mr. Nip, the parrot, has gone to sleep long ago, with his head under his wing, poor thing!" and she sang part of the "Robin Song." "Me want see head's under swing," murmured Trouble. "Me see!" "Oh, no! I don't want to wake up Mr. Nip. He has a cloth over his cage to keep him quiet," and Mrs. Martin carried Trouble over to where the parrot's cage had been covered with a table-cover for the night. "Goo'-bye," murmured the little fellow sleepily, and then he was carried up to his bed in Uncle Toby's house. A little later Ted and Janet also went to their rooms, having given farewell pats and rubs to the dogs and cat. Mr. Martin went about, seeing that the house was locked up, and then he and his wife sat downstairs, talking while the children were asleep. "Do you really intend to take all those pets home with us?" asked Mrs. Martin. "I don't see what else we can do," her husband replied. "The children will be disappointed if we don't. And I don't really want to sell them. Uncle Toby might not like it. I think I'll take them home with us, and write to him, if I can get his address. He must have left it, even if he is going to live in South America." "But how can we take home a monkey, a parrot, three dogs, a cat, an alligator and some rats and some white mice?" asked the mother of the Curlytops. "Oh, there is plenty of room in the auto," her husband answered. "We'll load it up in the morning." The night passed quietly enough, except that about twelve o'clock the parrot suddenly began shrieking: "Police! Police! Burglars! Police! I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" "Dick! Dick! Wake up!" called Mrs. Martin. "Someone is at the front door!" "Police! Police!" chattered the parrot again. And, surely enough, it was the police, though how the red and green bird knew it is more than I can say. A passing policeman, seeing the light in Uncle Toby's house, and having been told by Mrs. Watson, the housekeeper, on her way to her sister's, that the place was to be closed, had stopped to inquire. "I thought it was burglars," said the policeman, after Daddy Martin had gone down to the front door and explained. "That's what Mr. Nip did, too, I guess," said Mr. Martin. "Who's Mr. Nip?" asked the officer. "The parrot," said the father of the Curlytops. "He awakened us by his shrieking." After the policeman had gone, the house became quiet again, and nothing more happened until morning. After breakfast the water was turned off, and the home of Uncle Toby was made ready for closing up until the old gentleman should return. The parrot's cage, the box for the monkey, the little tank of water and pebbles in which Slider lived, and the wire cage of the white mice and rats--all these were taken out to the automobile. It was a large one, and there was plenty of room for the Curlytops and their new pets. "Take Snuff, the cat, in between you and Trouble, Janet," her father advised. "Tip and Top can snuggle down with Skyrocket on the floor near Ted. Are we all ready now?" "As ready as we ever shall be," his wife answered. "My, what a queer load!" she said, with a laugh, as she looked back at the collection and the children. "People will think we're a traveling menagerie!" This, however, did not worry the Curlytops. They liked it, and, a little later, they were on their way back toward Cresco. The Curlytops liked their new pets, and they also loved those they had had for a longer time--Skyrocket and Turnover. "We'll try to get home early," said Mr. Martin to his wife, as he steered the automobile through the streets of Pocono. "We'll have to fix up a place for these pets." "Yes," agreed his wife. "They are going to be quite a care. But the children will love them." They stopped for lunch at a little restaurant, and the children were afraid lest some of their pets might escape while the meal was being served. But Mr. Martin saw a young man, sitting in front of a barber shop next to the restaurant, and said to him: "Will you watch may automobile and the animals while we are in the dining room? I'll give you fifty cents." "I'll be glad to do it," said the young man. So long as he was on guard the Curlytops were satisfied. But when they came out they made a sad discovery. Ted jumped up on the running-board and looked down into the automobile to make sure all the pets were safe. The alligator, the parrot, the white mice and rats, the cat, the monkey, and two dogs were there. But there was no sign of Tip, the white poodle with a black spot on the end of his tail. "Where is Tip? Oh, where is Tip?" cried Ted. "He's gone!" CHAPTER VII A FUZZY BURGLAR "What's that?" asked Mr. Martin, who was the last of the Curlytop family to come out of the restaurant. "Who is gone? One of the pets?" "Tip is gone," answered Teddy. "Oh, where is he?" "Maybe he's hiding back of the monkey's cage," suggested Janet, for Jack, the pet monkey, lived in a sort of cage, or box, and he had been moved from Uncle Toby's house in it. "No, Tip isn't here at all," said Teddy. "Top is here and Skyrocket, but Tip is gone." "That can't be," said the young man who had said he would guard the animals while the Curlytops ate. "I've been here all the while, and I didn't see even one of the white mice get away." He seemed to be a nice, good-natured young man, and appeared to be as much surprised as Teddy and Janet were over the loss of Tip. As for Trouble, he was not worrying much. He had climbed into the front seat of the automobile, and was playing with Snuff, the yellow Persian cat. As long as Trouble had some animal near him he did not worry much about anything else. "Have you been right here all the while, young man?" asked Mr. Martin of the youth who had been left on guard. "You didn't go away, did you, and give someone a chance to come up and take one of the dogs?" "Oh, no, sir! I stayed right here all the while. I sat down on the running-board and waited. The only thing that happened was that the alligator tried to crawl out, but I put him back. I was sitting here, thinking how funny it was that anybody should have so many pets, when, all of a sudden, I felt something rough on my neck." "What was it?" asked Janet, while Teddy was looking under the automobile, thinking that perhaps Tip might be hiding there. "It was the little alligator, with his rough tail," explained the young man, who said he was called "Shorty" by his chums. He was very tall, and perhaps that was why he was called "Shorty," in fun you know. "It was the little alligator that was crawling up my shoulder and scratching my neck," he explained. "I put him back in his cage, or tank, or whatever you call it, though I was afraid he'd bite me." "Oh, no, Slider is very gentle," said Ted, who came up on the sidewalk, after having peered under the automobile. "Oh, dear, I don't see where Tip can be!" he said. "It is queer that he should go away and leave Top," said Mrs. Martin, for the other white poodle dog was there, safe in the automobile. Top looked up at the friends gazing down at him, barked and wagged his tail. Perhaps he, too, was asking what had become of his chum, Tip. "The dog must have jumped out on the opposite side of the car from where you were sitting," said Mr. Martin to Shorty. "Though if that had happened I should have thought you would have heard him," and the father of the Curlytops looked rather sharply at Shorty. "No, sir, I didn't hear a thing," was the answer. "All I know is that the alligator tried to crawl up my neck. I didn't see the dog run away." "Perhaps he didn't run away," suggested Mrs. Martin. "What do you mean?" asked Janet. "I mean someone may have stepped up softly, when this young man had his back turned, and, reaching over, may have lifted Tip up and taken him away. I wish you had sat in the auto, Shorty, instead of outside on the step." "Yes'm, I wish so myself," agreed the young man. "But there were so many animals in there I thought I'd better be on the outside so I could chase 'em quicker in case any got away. And one did get away and I never saw him! I'm terribly sorry! I'll go down the street and see if I can find him." "I wish you would," remarked Mr. Martin. "Just take a look, and ask everyone you meet if he saw a white poodle with a black tip on the end of his tail. If you find him I'll give you a dollar besides the fifty cents for watching the auto." "I'd like to earn that dollar!" said the young man. "I'll go look!" "I'll come, too," offered Teddy, "but I don't want a dollar if I find Tip. I just want to get our dog back." "So do I," added Janet. "I'll come and look with you." "This was a valuable dog," explained Mr. Martin, as Shorty moved off down the street. "He could do tricks. I'd like very much to get him back." "I'll do my best," promised the young man. "It was my fault, in a way, that he got a chance to go away. I should have been looking on both sides of the auto at once, but I didn't. I'll see if I can't find him." "I think I'll take a look, myself," said Mr. Martin to his wife, who had now gotten in the automobile with Trouble. "I don't like the way things have happened." "Why, do you think that young man had anything to do with Tip's going away?" asked Mrs. Martin, as Ted and Janet went down the street one way while Shorty took the other direction. "I can't be sure," answered the father of the Curlytops. "He looks like an honest young man, but if he knew what a valuable dog Tip was he might have let some friend of his step up and take away the pet animal." "But wouldn't he have allowed both of the dogs to be taken--Top as well as Tip?" asked Mrs. Martin. "Maybe there wasn't time to take but the one," her husband explained. "And perhaps I am wrong, and Shorty is right. Tip may have seen some other dog on the far side of the street, and have jumped out of the car to go up to him. It's too bad, but maybe we'll get him back." "I hope the children don't go so far away that they are lost, too," remarked Mrs. Martin. "I think they'll not go far," said her husband. "Oh, no, you don't!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Come back here! We don't want to chase _you_!" and he made a hasty grab for Slider, the pet alligator, who seemed to want to get out of his glass-sided tank. "I'll be glad when we get Uncle Toby's menagerie safely home," said Mr. Martin. "So shall I," his wife added. "Though the animals seem very nice. Trouble loves Snuff already." "Oh, I suppose we shall get to like them all," agreed Mr. Martin. "We'll have to let Ted and Janet make places for them in the barn. It is warm weather now, and even the tropical animals, like the monkey, can stay out there." "I wonder if the parrot will talk much?" ventured Mrs. Martin. "I have always rather wished for a talking parrot. Hello, Polly!" she called to the red and green bird in his cage. "Hello, Polly!" answered Mr. Nip. "I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" he shouted at the top of his voice, and several persons, passing along the street, turned to smile at the Martins with their automobile load of pets. Then Mr. Nip began to whistle, so very much like a boy, that Skyrocket, Ted's dog, imagined his master was whistling to him, and barked in answer. Then Top, the remaining pet poodle, also began to bark, and Jack, the monkey, chattered in his own queer way. "I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" Mr. Nip shouted at the top of his voice, and by this time quite a little crowd had gathered around the automobile. "I wish we were at home!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin, who did not like so many strange persons staring at her and her husband and Trouble. But Trouble, who was trying to smooth down the fluffy fur of the Persian cat, did not seem to mind. "What's this--a traveling circus?" asked a policeman, stepping up to the side of the car. "You have to get a permit if you're going to give a parade," he added to Mr. Martin. "Oh, I'm not going to give a parade," answered the father of the Curlytops. "We are just waiting to see if we can find one of our pets, a trick dog that ran away--or that was taken away," and he explained what had happened. "Do you know anything about that young man--Shorty he called himself--who watched our auto while we ate?" asked Mrs. Martin. "I know him--yes," the policeman answered. "Sometimes he is bad, again he is good. I'd say he was bad more often than he was good." "Just what I was afraid of!" exclaimed Mr. Martin. "I think Shorty knows more about the missing dog than he has told us. I don't believe he'll come back to get the dollar I promised him." "Here come Ted and Janet," said their mother. "They didn't find Tip, either." The Curlytops were hurrying along the street toward the automobile. They saw the policeman and began to run. "Oh, did you find him? Did you get Tip back?" gasped Janet, as she reached the car. "Did the policeman find him?" "No," answered her mother. "Did you see anything of our new dog, Curlytops?" Ted and Janet sadly shook their heads. They had looked up and down several streets, they explained, but Tip was nowhere in sight. Nor had they seen Shorty since he, also, started to look for the missing animal. "Well, we can't stay here much longer," decided Mr. Martin. "If we do, some more of Uncle Toby's pets may run away. We'd better get home. I'll leave you my name and address," said the father of the Curlytops to the policeman. "And if you hear anything of the missing dog please let me know." "I will," promised the officer. "And if I see Shorty I'll make him tell me what really happened. Sometimes he plays jokes, and this may have been one of those times." Mr. Martin waited a little longer, and when the young man did not come back, and when there was no sign of the missing Tip, it was thought best to start for Cresco. So, with one of Uncle Toby's pets missing, the trip was resumed. "You certainly have pets enough, even without Tip," said Mrs. Martin, as they neared the home of the Curlytops. "Yes, but we want Tip," said Teddy. "We can't give a good show with only one trick dog, 'specially when they are supposed to work as a team--one on the other's back." "Are you going to give a show?" asked his mother. "Yes," Teddy answered. "We'll give a show and make money. We can ask real money to see all the animals we have," and he looked down at the parrot's cage, the box of Jack, the monkey, the cage of the white mice and rats, and the tank of the alligator. "Perhaps you could train Skyrocket to take the place of Tip," said Mr. Martin. "Maybe," agreed Teddy. "But Skyrocket isn't the same kind of a dog, and Tip and Top looked so cute together." "Just like twins," added Janet. "Oh, I hope we get Tip back." They could not be sure whether the pet dog had run away himself, or whether someone had reached in over the side of the car and lifted him out. Someone may have done that while Shorty turned his back, saying nothing and not trying to stop him. "I am sorry, but I think Shorty had something to do with Tip getting away," said Mr. Martin. "If that young man had been honest he would have come back and told us he couldn't find the dog. I should not have allowed Shorty to watch our auto. But it is too late, now, to be sorry." The Curlytops reached their home just before supper, and there was so much to do, making places in the barn for Uncle Toby's pets, seeing that they were comfortable, and that they could not get out during the night, that, for a time, Ted and Janet forgot about the loss of Tip. If he had been the only pet, of course they would have missed him very much. But they had so many now that they were kept busy. Still, they wished, very much, that Tip could be found. "For if we don't find him, we can't have half so many tricks in our circus show," said Teddy. In due time the pets were put away for the night. The barn was a good place for them, and after they had been fed and given fresh water, which all pets need as much as they do food, the children left the animals to themselves. "In the morning we'll start getting ready for the circus," declared Ted. "Will dey be han'-ordan music?" asked Trouble. "Well, we'll have some kind of music, if I have to toot on some tissue paper over a comb," answered Teddy. Tired out with their two days' automobile trip, the Curlytops were soon ready for bed. Trouble went to sleep earlier than did Ted or Janet, but soon they, too, were ready to go to their rooms. "Let us feed the animals--don't you do it, please," Ted begged of his father and mother. "Janet and I want to make believe we are keepers in a circus, feeding lions and tigers." "All right, you may feed them," agreed their mother. How long they had been asleep neither Ted nor Janet knew, but they were suddenly awakened in the night by hearing screams. The screams came from the open window of the house next door, where Mrs. Blake, a very nice lady, lived with her two servants. Her husband was dead, and her children had married and gone away. Mrs. Blake's bedroom was opposite the adjoining sleeping rooms of Ted and Janet, and often the Curlytops would call "good morning" across to Mrs. Blake. But this time it was Mrs. Blake who called, and she did not exactly call, she screamed in the middle of the night. "Help! Help!" cried the lady from her open window. "Mr. Martin! Mary Ann! Patrick!" (these were her servants) "come and get him. A little fuzzy burglar is in my room! Come and get the fuzzy burglar!" CHAPTER VIII SLIDER GOES SLIDING Teddy and Janet, sleeping in their rooms on the side of their house nearest to the home of Mrs. Blake, were the first to be awakened by the screams of the frightened lady. For that Mrs. Blake was frightened anyone could tell who heard her cry. "Come and take the fuzzy burglar! Take the fuzzy burglar out of my room!" she exclaimed again and again. By this time Teddy had jumped out of his bed and had run to his window. At the same time Janet, in the next room, had jumped out of her bed and had run to her window. Both children looked across the yard to the home of Mrs. Blake. They could see her, in the moonlight, standing at her window. "What's the matter, Curlytops?" called their mother, across the hall. She had been awakened, not so much by the cries of Mrs. Blake as by the movements of Ted and Janet. "What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Martin. "There's a funny burglar over in Mrs. Blake's house, and she wants someone to come and get it," answered Janet. "No, she didn't say _funny_ burglar--she said _fuzzy_!" declared Ted. "Well, anyhow, it's a _burglar_," declared Janet. And from the other house again came the appeal: "Patrick! Mary Ann! Mr. Martin! Somebody! Come and get the fuzzy burglar!" By this time Mr. Martin, who had gotten up, had been told by his wife that something was wrong in Mrs. Blake's house. He put on some clothes and hurried downstairs, carrying a flashlight in one hand and his revolver in the other. "Oh!" exclaimed Janet, who, with Teddy, watched her father go, "Daddy's going to shoot the funny burglar." "_Fuzzy_ burglar!" corrected Ted. But Janet had covered her ears with her hands, so she would not hear her father shoot his revolver--in case he found anything to shoot at--so the little girl did not hear what her brother said. Mr. Martin ran across the lawn to the front porch of Mrs. Blake's house. By this time several other neighbors had been awakened be the lady's screams, and some of the men came out, partly dressed, to see what was going on. "Come in, Mr. Martin," said Patrick, as he opened the door for the father of the Curlytops. Patrick was Mrs. Blake's gardener. "What is it, Patrick?" asked Mr. Martin, holding his revolver in one hand and the flashlight in the other. "Where is the burglar?" "I didn't see anything, Mr. Martin," answered the gardener. "I heard Mrs. Blake scream, and I got up, and so did Mary Ann, the cook, but we can't find anything!" "But there _is_ a burglar here!" said Mrs. Blake from the head of the stairs, where she now stood. "I was awakened by a noise in my room, and when I looked at the window, I saw in the moonlight, sitting on the sill, a fuzzy little old man. He's a burglar, I'm sure of it, and I wish the police would come!" "I think there are enough of us here now, Mrs. Blake, to look after two or three burglars without the police," said Mr. Martin, as he glanced at several neighbors who had come in. "Let's have a look around," he went on. "I fancy, if there was a burglar, that he has gotten away by this time." "I hope he has gotten away, and will never come back," said Mrs. Blake. "But I wish you gentlemen would look, just the same." So Mr. Martin and the other men neighbors, with Patrick, the gardener, to help, began a search of the house. They went to Mrs. Blake's room first. "I don't see any burglar," said Mr. Martin. He did not need his electric flashlight now, as the house had been lighted from top to bottom by Mrs. Blake's two servants. "There he is! There he is!" suddenly cried Mrs. Blake. "Under that big chair. There's the fuzzy burglar!" Mr. Martin and two or three other men rushed over to the chair at which Mrs. Blake pointed. Mr. Martin stooped down, and then he laughed. "What's the matter?" asked Mr. Tyndall, a neighbor from across the street. "I'll show you," answered Mr. Martin, as he thrust his arm under the chair. "Come out of there, Jack!" he went on, and out from beneath the chair he pulled--Jack, Uncle Toby's pet monkey! Poor Jack was as much frightened as Mrs. Blake had been, but he cowered down in Mr. Martin's arms and looked up into the face of the father of the Curlytops as if saying: "Please don't whip me! I didn't mean to be bad!" The men who had come in to help hunt a burglar looked at the fuzzy monkey in Mr. Martin's arms, and then burst out laughing. "Yes, it must have been him that I saw perched on my window," said Mrs. Blake. "In my alarm, it did look like a fuzzy, little old man, and of course I thought it was a burglar. I was foolish. It was a very small burglar. I didn't know you kept monkeys, Mr. Martin." "I only keep one," he said, "and I don't exactly keep that, myself. It's one of the children's pets. It used to belong to my Uncle Toby, and we just brought Jack home this afternoon. We put him in the barn with the white mice and the alligator----" "Don't tell me there's an _alligator_ running around loose!" cried Mrs. Blake. "Oh, a monkey is bad enough, but an _alligator_----" "It's only a little one," said Mr. Martin. "And I'm sorry Jack got loose and frightened you. I'll see, after this, that the pets don't get out at night." "Oh, I'm sure I don't want to spoil the children's pleasure in the least," went on Mrs. Blake. "But I didn't know you had such a menagerie next door to me, Mr. Martin." "We didn't have until to-day--or rather, yesterday, for it is now past midnight," Mr. Martin explained. "My Uncle Toby left me his collection of animals when he went away suddenly, and Ted and Janet say they are going to have a circus." "Save me a ticket!" cried Mr. Hanson, who lived two or three houses down the street. "And I want one," added Mr. Fenton. "If the Curlytops give a circus I want to come to it!" "So do it!" cried several other neighbors, who had turned out to see what all the excitement was about. "I'll tell Teddy and Janet," promised Mr. Martin, as he carried Jack out of Mrs. Blake's house, much to the relief of that lady, though she was rather fond of animals in general. So the excitement quieted down, and after it was all over a policeman came along, one of the neighbors having telephoned in the first alarm. But there was nothing for the officer to do. "Now, Curlytops," said Mr. Martin, at breakfast the next morning when the excitement of the night was being talked over, "if you are to keep Uncle Toby's pets here, we must be careful that they do not bother the neighbors. Your own dog and cat are very good, and make no trouble. But with a monkey, a parrot, another dog and cat, to say nothing of the alligator and the white mice, we may cause a lot of trouble to our good neighbors. And we wouldn't want to do that." "What do you want us to do, Daddy?" asked Ted. He had just fed the two dogs--Skyrocket and Top, while Janet had poured out some milk for Turnover and Snuff, the two cats. "We must make cages that can be locked at night, or else we must make sure that the barn is tightly closed," said his father. "I don't suppose, during the day, that there will be much trouble. It is at night we must be careful. No one likes to be awakened by seeing a monkey on the window sill." "I wouldn't care," said Teddy. "Well, ladies like Mrs. Blake don't care for such thrills," returned Mr. Martin, with a laugh. "So we must be sure that all the members of our menagerie are safely caged each night. I shall depend on you Curlytops for that." "We'll be careful!" promised Teddy. "I'll help you lock up every night," added Janet. "Well, then I will leave the pets to you Curlytops," said their father. "It is on your account that your mother and I are keeping them instead of selling them, and while they will be some care, we do not mind if you do your share." "The first thing I'm going to do," said Teddy, when he and Janet were left to themselves, their father going to his store, "is to see how many tricks Top can do." "Isn't it too bad we haven't Tip?" said Janet. "They were so cute together!" "Yes," agreed her brother. "But maybe I can make Skyrocket let Top ride on his back, and teach 'em some other tricks. Come here, Top!" he called to the white poodle with the black spot on top of his head. "Let's see you walk on your hind legs." Top was very willing to do this, and while Ted and Janet sat on boxes in the barn, with their other pets around them, Uncle Toby's poodle went through his performance. When he had walked on his hind legs in a little circle he suddenly sneezed. "Oh, maybe he's catching cold!" cried Janet. "No, I think that was a trick," suggested Teddy. "Sneeze, Top!" he ordered. Surely enough, the poodle sneezed, and he would do it every time Teddy or Janet told him to. "Oh, he knows two tricks, besides the one he does with Tip," Teddy said in delight. "Maybe he does a lot more. I wish Uncle Toby had written them down, so we'd know what the dogs can do for our circus." "We can write to Uncle Toby, when daddy gets the address, and ask about the tricks," Janet said. "Yes," agreed Teddy, "we can do that. I wonder if Slider can do any tricks?" he asked, when Top had been rewarded for his efforts with a little bone to gnaw. [Illustration: SLIDER WENT SLIDING DOWN THE SMOOTH SLANTING BOARD. "The Curlytops and Their Pets." Page 102] "Do alligators do tricks?" asked Janet, as she reached in through the bars of Mr. Nip's cage and scratched the head of the red and green parrot. "I guess they do," Teddy answered. "If they don't we'll teach our Slider to do a trick. I'm going to take him out of his tank." The cage of the little pet alligator was a sort of tank, in the bottom of which was some water, and in this were little pebbles, like those in some goldfish bowls. The tank stood near a window in the barn where the sun shone in, for Mr. Martin had told the Curlytops that their pets who lived in warm, or tropical, countries must be kept where it was warm and sunny. That was what they were used to in their native lands. So Slider had a warm, sunny place, and now Teddy took the scaly creature out of the tank and put him on a box, where the sun could shine on the long-tailed fellow. As it happened, there was a long, smooth board resting on the upper edge of this box and extending down to the barn floor. Teddy had laid the board slanting fashion on the box when he was making room for the cage of Jack, the monkey. For a little while, after he had been placed in the warm sun on top of the box, the alligator remained quiet, slowly blinking his eyes. Then he began to crawl. "That isn't much of a trick," declared Janet. "Oh, I haven't started to teach him a trick yet," her brother answered. "I'm trying to think what an alligator can do best." But Slider, as he was called, because he seemed to slide around in such a slow, easy fashion, took matters into his own claws, so to speak. He crawled around on his box top and then managed to clamber up on the slanting board, one edge of which rested on the box. "I wonder if he is going to slide down-hill," said Janet in a low voice, as if she did not want to disturb the little alligator. And then, just as if he had made up his mind to do that very thing, Slider wiggled along until he was only holding to the edge of the slanting board by his two hind feet, while his long tail was only partly on the box. A moment later, giving himself a hitch like a boy getting his sled over the top of the hill, Slider went sliding down the smooth, slanting board. Down he slid until he reached the barn floor, and as there was some smooth straw at the point where the board rested, Slider slid across this straw for several feet. "Oh, did you see that?" cried Janet. "See it? I should say I did!" cried Teddy. "Slider slid all right! That's going to be his trick! I'll make a longer board slide, and I'll put the lower end in a pan of water, so when Slider slides down he'll make a splash! That will be a fine trick for the circus! Come on, Slider, slide again!" Teddy was just lifting up his pet alligator, intending to put him on the top of the slanting board, when Trouble was heard calling: "Oh, come an' 'ook at Snuff! Come an' 'ook at Snuff! He's doin' suffin' funny!" CHAPTER IX MRS. JOHNSON'S BABY Teddy and Janet turned their attention from Slider, the pet alligator whose new trick they had just discovered, to Trouble, their little brother. "What's that you say?" asked Teddy, putting the alligator back again on the box on which stood the tank of water. "You ought to see Snuff," repeated the little fellow. "What's he doing?" asked Janet. "Oh, he's rollin' ober an' ober in yard," explained Trouble, so excited that he did not take time to talk as straight as usual. "He's rollin' funny!" "Oh, maybe the poor cat has a fit!" exclaimed Janet. "That would be too bad, Ted! He couldn't be in our circus." "I'll go see," offered Teddy. He had been among animals so long, and was so kind to them, and he liked them so much, that he was not afraid to try to help even a sick one. And a cat that has a fit is ill, and needs medicine. Sometimes Turnover became ill, and had to be doctored, and more than once Skyrocket, the dog, was in need of some simple home remedy. So the first thought of Janet and Ted, when Trouble told them that Snuff, the cat they had brought from Uncle Toby's, was "rollin'"--their first thought, I say, was that Snuff had a fit. "You stay here and watch Slider," said Ted to his sister, "and I'll go out into the yard and see what's the matter with the cat." "I go, too," added Trouble. "I 'ike to see Snuff roll!" "No, you had better stay here with me," suggested Janet, and she ran to the barn door to catch hold of her little brother before he could toddle after Teddy. "I want to go! Lemme go!" cried Trouble, and he struggled to get away from Janet. "No, you must stay with sister," said the little girl, as pleasantly as she could. "Look, I'll show you a new trick that Slider, our pet alligator, can do. Trouble like to see Slider do a trick?" she asked. "Come on, Trouble! See Slider do his sliding trick!" Baby William was not proof against this attraction. He ceased trying to pull away from Janet and let her lead him back to the alligator's tank. There Janet took up the scaly, long-tailed creature, which was idly crawling around, and put him on top of the slanting board, as Teddy had been about to do when Trouble told about Snuff. Janet did not mind picking up Slider. The Curlytops were not afraid of animals that many girls and boys do not like to handle. Janet and Teddy knew a great deal about snakes, and they knew that only two kinds that lived in their State were harmful. These were the rattlesnake and the copperhead. All other kinds, such as black snakes, milk snakes and garter snakes can never harm a person. Teddy and Janet knew this, and they had been taught by their father that these harmless snakes did a great deal of good by eating rats and mice that, otherwise, would spoil the farmers' grain. So it was that Janet had learned to pick up even large black snakes, knowing they would not harm her, and once she and her brother had even tamed a good-sized black snake, so that it would let the children pick it up, and it would lie, coiled, in their lap. Snakes can not be tamed, or made to do tricks like other animals, and the stories of "snake charmers" are mostly untrue. Some snakes may rise and sway when music is played, and the snakes that circus performers handle are just as harmless as the garden snakes you see. Some of the larger ones, however, are very powerful, and can twist themselves around a person or an animal strongly enough to kill. But the performers know how to handle snakes, using slow and gentle movements, so the reptiles do not mind it. Thus it was that Janet had no fear of Slider, the pet alligator. She lifted him up, put him on top of the slanting board and, just as he had done before, Slider went sliding down. "Oh! Oh!" cried Trouble in delight. "Isn't that a good trick?" asked Janet, laughing with her little brother. "Aren't you glad you stayed with me." "Yes, I is glad," declared Trouble. "Now Trouble make Slider slide." "All right," agreed Janet. Baby William was not much more afraid of animals, snakes included, than were Teddy and Janet. So his sister let him pick up Slider and give the alligator another coast down the board hill. I am not saying that Slider would have done this trick himself, even after much practice. It was mostly an accident, I believe, his coasting down the board when he got to the slanting edge. The alligator just naturally crawled around and, reaching the edge, he fell over, and coasted down. Janet and Trouble put him close to the edge on purpose, so he would go down, knowing that it did not hurt the alligator in the least. I suppose a mud turtle would have done the same "trick." Reptiles have a very small brain, and can not be taught to do tricks as can dogs, horses and cats, and the alligator, the turtle and the snake belong to the class known as reptiles. So though the children called what Slider did a "trick," it was more like an accident, though it was not a harmful one. "Me make Slider slide," exclaimed Trouble, and, surely enough, when he had put Uncle Toby's scaly pet on the board, down the alligator slid. Trouble and Janet were enjoying themselves in this fashion, and Janet was wondering what Teddy was doing, when that young member of the Curlytop family stuck his head in through the open barn door and called: "Come on out and see Snuff!" "Oh, has he a bad fit?" asked Janet. "He hasn't got a fit at all!" answered Ted. "He's doing one of the best tricks you ever saw, and it will be dandy in our circus! Come and look at him!" "Oh, I'm glad he hasn't a fit!" cried Janet. "Come on, Trouble!" But now there was more trouble with Trouble, for he wanted to stay and play with Slider. "Me see Slider slide more!" demanded the little fellow. And it was as hard for Janet to get him to come out of the barn now, as it had been to make him stay in before. "Oh, come on and see Snuff do his funny trick!" she begged, and finally Trouble came away from the alligator. "And it sure is a funny trick!" laughed Ted, who had waited for his little brother and Janet to come out. "Just you see!" When the two Curlytops and Trouble hurried around the corner of the barn, Teddy pointed to Snuff, the new, big cat that had been brought from Uncle Toby's house. Snuff was on top of a large leather ball, and it was rolling around the yard, with him on top of it, just as a clown in the circus stands upright on a large, painted ball, and rolls himself around the ring. This ball was a football that Teddy had owned for some time. The outside was leather, and inside was a rubber bladder that could be blown up. It was a round ball, of the kind used in "Association" games, and not for "Rugby," which most of the football elevens play in this country. The "Rugby" ball is shaped like a watermelon, but the other is more like a muskmelon, and it was on this latter kind of a ball that Snuff was rolling around the yard, just like a circus clown. "Was this what Trouble meant when he said Snuff was rolling?" asked Janet. "Yes," answered Teddy. "I'm glad Uncle Toby's cat didn't have a fit. Now we can make him do this trick in our animal circus." "Oh, it's a lovely trick," declared Janet. "I wonder how he learned it?" "Maybe Uncle Toby or the lady who owned him first taught Snuff to roll on top of a football," Ted answered, while the yellowish brown cat kept on stepping lightly this way and that, making the ball turn over and over. "I guess Trouble left the ball out here in the yard. He was playing with it last. Then Snuff must have come out, and when he saw the ball he remembered that he knew how to do a trick on it. And he got up and did it without anyone telling him." "Maybe he won't do it any more," suggested Janet. "We can soon see," Teddy said. "Here, Snuff!" he called to the big, friendly cat. "Come over here," and Teddy whistled as he did for Turnover. Snuff came as he was called, almost as a dog might do, and Turnover, also hearing the whistle by which Teddy summoned him to meals, came running around the corner of the barn. "No, we haven't anything for you to eat now, pussies," said Ted, with a laugh. "But I'll give you something in a little while if Snuff does the football trick again." After petting the two cats, and scratching them under their ears, which they seemed to like very much. Teddy held Snuff in his arms, and told Janet to take up the football. "We'll put it down in front of Snuff and see if he gets up on it," suggested Teddy. And when this was done the big cat from Uncle Toby's jumped out of Ted's arms, and leaped on top of the football, rolling it over and over just like a clown in a circus. "Oh, it is a trick--a real trick!" cried Janet. "Wouldn't it be great if we could dress Snuff up in a little suit like a clown?" "Maybe we can," said Teddy. "But it will be hard, as cats don't like to have fixin's on 'em as much as dogs do. I wonder who taught Snuff that trick? I guess it must have been Uncle Toby." And, some time afterward, the Curlytops learned that it was their father's queer, animal-loving uncle who had taught Snuff to roll around on a football. "I'm terrible glad Uncle Toby left us his collection, aren't you?" asked Janet of her brother, when Snuff had grown tired of doing his trick, and both cats were being fed. "Yes," agreed Teddy, "I am. First I thought it might be a collection of stamps or coins. But I'm glad it was pets." The Curlytops were going to have a great deal of fun with their pets, they were sure of that. "If we only had Tip back," sighed Janet, as she and Teddy sat watching the cats eat, talking, meanwhile, about the circus they were going to have with all their animals. "Yes, it's too bad one of Uncle Toby's dogs is gone," agreed Teddy. "Of course we can do some tricks with Top, but it would be better with the two of them." "I wonder if he jumped out of the auto and ran away, if someone picked him up off the seat, or if that man Shorty knows where he is?" "That's what I wonder, too," replied Teddy. "And I wonder if we shall ever get Tip back?" But many strange things were to happen to the Curlytops and their pets before this came about. Teddy and Janet were so busy talking about the circus they were to get up with their animals that, for a time, they did not watch Trouble. That little chap wandered back to the barn, for he had been much interested in watching the alligator do his trick. "Me make Slider slide some more," said Trouble, talking to himself, as he had a habit of doing. Into the barn he toddled. The alligator was swimming around in his small tank of water, but, being a tame and pet reptile, he came out when Trouble stood near the cage. Unafraid of animals, as were Teddy and Janet, baby William picked Slider up and put him on the slanting board. Down went the alligator as nicely as you please! It was about half an hour after this that Teddy and Janet decided they would try to teach their dog Skyrocket some tricks to do with Top. "Let's bring 'em both out here in the yard together," suggested Ted. "You get Skyrocket, Jan, and I'll hunt Top." "All right," agreed his sister. But before they had gone far, looking for the two dogs, they heard a cry of alarm from Mrs. Johnson, one of the neighbors across the street. "Oh, my baby! My baby!" cried Mrs. Johnson, as she ran down off the porch toward a mosquito-netting covered carriage in the front yard. "A big snake is going to sting my baby! Oh, Trouble! what shall I do?" "Ha! is Trouble over there?" asked Ted of Janet. "Yes, and something else, too, I guess," was the answer. And Mrs. Johnson called again: "Oh, a big snake is in the carriage with my baby!" CHAPTER X MR. CAPPER'S BUNS Forgetting in the excitement, all about teaching Skyrocket and Top to do some tricks together, as Tip and Top did before Tip was lost, Teddy and Janet ran across the street toward Mrs. Johnson, who was standing beside the carriage in which was her baby. Near her was Trouble, but the little fellow did not seem to be as excited as was Mrs. Johnson. "Trouble," cried Janet, as she took hold of her little brother's arm, "did you tease Ruth?" Ruth was the name of Mrs. Johnson's baby, and though Trouble was, usually, a good little chap, he might have done something to make a baby cry, Janet realized. "I didn't do nuffin'!" declared Trouble. "Oh, no, Trouble is all right!" said Mrs. Johnson. "It's a big, black snake that has crawled into my baby's carriage. I put Ruth out here to have her sleep, and I looked from the window every once in a while to see that she was all right." "And she was, for quite a while. But a moment ago, when I looked, I saw Trouble near the carriage, and then I saw a big, ugly snake crawling over Ruth's robe. Oh, where is it? Where's the snake, darling? Did the snake bite you?" and Mrs. Johnson caught Ruth up from the carriage in her arms. "I never knew a snake would crawl up into a baby carriage," said Teddy. "I don't see any; do you, Jan?" "No," answered his sister, "I don't!" "There it is! Look!" cried Mrs. Johnson, pointing with one hand, while she held Ruth close to her in her other arm. The baby had been rather rudely awakened from her sleep, and she was just getting ready to cry. Her lips were puckering up, and in another moment she would let out a yell. Janet and Teddy knew this, for they had, often enough, watched Trouble do the same thing when he was smaller. "There's the snake!" exclaimed Mrs. Johnson, and, as she spoke and pointed, the Curlytops saw something black crawl out from among the folds of the robes in the baby carriage. Ted had one glimpse of the head of the reptile, and then the boy cried: "That isn't a snake! It's Slider, our pet alligator! How did he get here?" "A pet alligator?" cried Mrs. Johnson. "In my Ruth's carriage! How did it get here?" "I bringed it!" said Trouble, in the silence that followed. "You what?" cried Janet. "I bringed Slider ober to play wif Ruff!" said Trouble. "I play wif Slider in barn, and den hims hoots get tired, so I bringed him over to ride in de carriage wif Ruff." "What does he mean?" asked Mrs. Johnson, crooning to "Ruff," as Trouble called the baby, and making the little one quiet. For William was using some of his "baby talk," which he often did when he was excited. "He means that the alligator's feet got tired, I suppose," translated Janet. "He says 'hoots' for 'feet.' He must mean that Slider got tired of sliding down the board." Mrs. Johnson looked from one Curlytop to the other, and then at Trouble. A puzzled look was on her face. "Really, children dear," she said, "_you_ may know what you are talking about, but _I_ don't. What with hoots, Slider and a board I'm all mixed up!" "I bringed him--I bringed Slider," explained Trouble. "Yes, we know you did that," said Teddy. "But you shouldn't have, Trouble. It was wrong to take our pet out of the barn, and it was wrong to put Slider in the baby carriage." "Yes, we didn't know Trouble was going to do anything like this," said Janet, apologizing for her little brother's misdeed. "But Ted and I were talking about what tricks we'd get Skyrocket and Top to do, now that Tip is gone. And we'd just got through watching Snuff do a new trick on top of a football, so we didn't watch Trouble very much." "How many pets you have!" exclaimed Mrs. Johnson. "I suppose those are pets you have been talking about?" she asked. "Ours and Uncle Toby's," answered Teddy. "We have more pets than we ever had before, and we're going to give a circus. Will you come, Mrs. Johnson?" "An' bring Ruff!" invited Trouble. There was a laugh at this. "If you love Ruth you mustn't put Slider in her carriage any more," cautioned Janet, as she lifted the pet alligator out from among the blankets. "Little babies don't like alligators." "All wite. I like 'em," said Trouble, and then he ran back across the street. "We'll be going now," said Teddy to Mrs. Johnson. "We're sorry William made trouble." "Oh, he didn't mean to," said Ruth's mother. "He's a dear little fellow. I must come over and see your pets. Ruth loves a pussy or a dog, but she doesn't know much about alligators." "We have a monkey, too," said Janet. "And a parrot named Mr. Nip," added her brother. "And white rats and mice! They're real cute!" exclaimed Janet. "I don't believe I would like the mice!" said Mrs. Johnson. "But ours are white," Janet explained. "That makes a big difference. They're as nice as rabbits!" "They wouldn't be for me," said Ruth's mother, with a laugh. "Good-bye, Curlytops! Come over again, and bring a pussy or doggie with you." Ted and Janet promised they would, and then they hurried back across the street after Trouble. They wanted to make sure he would not get into any more mischief with the pets. Daddy Martin was told, that evening after supper, all that had happened during the day, from the discovery that Slider and Snuff could do tricks, to the finding of the pet alligator in baby Ruth's carriage. "Well, it seems you had lots of excitement to-day," he said to his wife. "Just a little," she agreed. "But if Uncle Toby's pets are to make trouble I don't know that we can keep them," Daddy Martin said. Teddy and Janet looked at each other. "Oh, we can't let them go now!" exclaimed Teddy. "We're just getting to love them!" his sister added. "And we haven't found out any tricks yet that the white mice can do," Teddy went on. "We haven't even named 'em!" "Well, I suppose if the neighbors don't complain I shouldn't," admitted Mr. Martin. "But with the monkey scaring Mrs. Blake, and the alligator scaring Mrs. Johnson----" "They weren't very _much_ scared," interrupted Ted. "Please let us keep Uncle Toby's pets! We want to give a circus." "We'll see," said Mr. Martin. "I hope nothing more will happen, though, to annoy the neighbors." "We'll watch our pets so they won't get out," promised Ted and Janet. The next few days were spent by the Curlytops in getting better acquainted with the animals that had been brought from Uncle Toby's. They liked their new pets more and more the more they saw of them. Of course they wished they could get Tip back, but that trick dog seemed to have vanished. Daddy Martin put an advertisement in the paper, and offered a reward to whoever would bring Tip back, but there were no answers--at least none that amounted to anything. It is true that several men and boys came with strange dogs they thought answered the description of the missing Tip, but none of the animals was the pet so much wanted. Nor was anything heard of the missing youth "Shorty." He seemed to have disappeared with the poodle, and the police said they believed Shorty knew where Tip was, and had, perhaps, taken him away in order to sell him. "Well, of course we have enough animals without Tip to give a show," said Teddy. "But I'd love to get Tip back. And I guess Top is lonesome without him." "I guess so, too," added Janet. But if Top was lonesome he showed no signs of it after one or two days. He made friends with Skyrocket, as Snuff did with Turnover, and the dogs and cats lived happily together. But alas for the hopes of Mr. Martin that his neighbors would not again be troubled by the pets of the Curlytops. It was about a week after the animals had been brought from Uncle Toby's house that, as Mr. Martin was coming home from the store rather early one afternoon, he saw a crowd in front of the bakeshop of Mr. Capper, just around the corner from the home of the Curlytops. "I hope that isn't a fire in Mr. Capper's bakery," thought Daddy Martin, for more than once hot grease had boiled over in the bakeshop and caused slight fires. As Mr. Martin approached Mr. Capper's store he heard loud laughter from the crowd of men and boys in front of the show window. "It can't be a fire, or they wouldn't laugh," said the father of the Curlytops. "I wonder what it is?" He hastened on, and as he came within view of the bakery window he uttered an exclamation of surprise. For there, among the buns, eating them and playing among the other cakes, were several large white rats and mice. "Look at that one big one stand up on his hind legs and nibble a bun just like a squirrel!" said a man watching the antics of the white rats and mice among Mr. Capper's buns. If this man had only known it, squirrels and rats belong to the same family, that called "rodents," only a squirrel has a much larger tail than a rat or a mouse. "I wonder what in the world Mr. Capper lets those white rats stay in his bakeshop window for?" thought Mr. Martin, as he ran up. "They are not harmful, of course, but people will not like to eat bakery stuff after rats and mice, even if they are white, have run around them. It's a poor advertisement." At that moment the baker himself, who had been out in his oven-room, came running into the shop. He gave one look at his window, saw the white rats and mice playing around in and nibbling his choice buns, and then the baker cried: "Oh, who did this? Who played this trick on me and spoiled my buns? Who let those mice in there?" "Didn't you do it yourself?" asked Mr. Martin, who knew the baker very well, having traded with him for a number of years. "Let those mice in my window? Never!" cried Mr. Capper. "Why should I do a thing like that?" "I thought maybe it was for an advertisement--to attract customers to your store," said Mr. Martin. "Though I thought it was rather funny." "It is too funny!" cried the baker. "All my buns are spoiled, and I just baked them. As for customers--I have a crowd, yes, but they will not buy what the mice have nibbled. "Whose mice are they? Whose white rats are they? I ask you that!" cried the baker, who was much excited. "A little while ago two boys come in to buy cookies. I wait on them, and I go back to my oven. Then the next I know I see a crowd and I come out to find--these!" He pointed to the white rats and mice that were having a fine time among the buns in the bakeshop window. "You say two boys were here a little while ago?" asked Mr. Martin, and he began to have a suspicion of what had happened. "Two boys," replied the baker. "They have a box with them--Ha! here is the box now. It is the cage that the mice got out of!" he cried, pointing to a box with a wire front on the floor of the store, in a corner. "Uncle Toby's box!" exclaimed Mr. Martin, in a low voice. "What's that?" cried the baker. "You know these white rats and mice, Mr. Martin?" "I'm afraid I do," said the father of the Curlytops. "My children got some new pets from an uncle of mine--Uncle Toby. Among the pets were white mice and rats. That is the box we brought them in from Pocono. But how did the box get here?" "Some boys brought it in, I am telling you," the baker answered. "Two boys." "Did you know them? Was one my son Teddy?" asked Mr. Martin. "I do not know--I forgot to look I was in such a hurry, for my bread was almost burning in my oven. I run to the store quick, as I am all alone now; I wait on the boys, they want cookies; and I run back to my oven. Now I come--the rats--the mice!" and Mr. Capper, who was a Frenchman, raised his hands in the air over his head in despair. "I wonder if Ted could have done this?" mused Mr. Martin. And then he heard Teddy's voice calling: "Come on, Jim! Here they are! We left the rats here, and--Oh, I say! Look! They got out of the cage, and look what they're doing to the buns!" A moment later Teddy Martin came pushing his way through the crowd now in the bakery. CHAPTER XI TOP ACTS STRANGELY Mr. Martin, the father of the Curlytops, Mr. Capper, the baker, and the crowd of persons in the shop looked at Teddy and his friend, Jimmy Norton, as the two boys hurried into the place. Nearly everyone guessed what had happened, but Mr. Martin wanted to make sure, so he asked: "Teddy, did you let your white mice and rats get loose among Mr. Capper's buns?" "Well, I--I didn't exactly do it, Daddy," Teddy answered. "But I guess they did get loose, didn't they?" he asked, with half a smile. "There is no doubt about it--they are loose, and they have done a lot of damage," and Mr. Martin spoke rather sternly. "Damage! They have eaten up over two dollars' worth of buns--or they have as much spoiled!" said the excited baker. "How did it happen?" asked Teddy's father. "Well, it was an accident," the little Curlytop boy answered. "Jimmy and I were taking the cage down to the store to have some new wire put on. There's a place where the wire is broken, and it needed fixing so the rats couldn't get out. So Jimmy and I took the cage, and the rats and mice in it, down to the hardware store." "Why didn't you take the mice out, and leave them in the barn?" asked Mr. Martin. "'Cause there wasn't anything I could leave 'em in," Teddy replied. "I was afraid they'd get out, and maybe go over in Mrs. Johnson's baby carriage, just as Slider did. So I thought if we took the rats and mice right in the cage the man at the store could put some new wire netting over the old, and they couldn't get out." "And did he do it?" Teddy's father went on, while the crowd listened to the talk. "Yes, sir," Teddy replied. "The cage was fixed all right, and on the way back, Jimmy and I got tired of carrying it, so we stopped in here to get some cookies. We were hungry." "It is as I told you!" broke in Mr. Capper. "Two boys did come in for cookies. These are the two--I remember now." "Well, why didn't you boys take the cage of rats and mice with you when you went out?" asked Mr. Martin. "If you hadn't left them here they wouldn't have gotten loose and gone into Mr. Capper's show window to eat or spoil all his buns. Why did you leave the cage here?" "We--we forgot it, I guess; didn't we, Jimmy?" asked Teddy of his chum. "Yes," agreed Jimmy, "we did." "But if the man at the hardware store put new wire on the cage, I don't see how the rats and mice got out," Mr. Martin went on. Teddy looked at the empty cage which had been set down in a corner when he and his chum bought the cookies. "The door came open!" Teddy exclaimed. "See, Daddy, the door sprang open and the white mice got out that way. It wasn't our fault at all!" "But it was your fault for leaving the cage here," went on Mr. Martin. "I don't see why you did it." "I guess it was on account of the fire engine," spoke up Jimmy Norton. "The fire engine!" cried Teddy's father. "What has the fire engine to do with white mice eating buns?" "Well, after we'd bought the cookies, and were going to take up the cage of mice and go out," Jimmy explained, "the fire engine came past, and Ted and I ran out to see it and we went to the fire, but it wasn't a big one, and we forgot about the mice; didn't we, Teddy?" "Yes," said Teddy, "we did. And I didn't think about 'em until a little while ago, 'cause we started to play marbles, and--and----" "Yes, and by your thoughtlessness you have made a lot of trouble," Mr. Martin remarked. "I am sorry for this, Teddy. If many more things happen I shall have to get rid of Uncle Toby's pets." "Oh, don't do that!" begged the little Curlytop boy. "I'll put the rats and mice back in the cage and I'll fasten the door so they can't get out again. Don't send Uncle Toby's animals away, Daddy! We want to have a circus with them!" "And I'll help pay for the buns the rats ate," added Jimmy. "It was partly my fault for making Ted forget." "Oh, no, I can't allow that," said Mr. Martin, "though it is very good of you to offer, Jimmy. I will pay Mr. Capper for the buns the rats ate, and after this Teddy must be more careful." "Can we take away the buns and cookies the mice didn't eat?" asked the little Curlytop chap, as he and his chum began picking up the pets and putting them back in the cage. The animals were tame and did not mind being handled. "Take away all the buns in the window! They are of no more use to me!" exclaimed the baker. "But, Mr. Martin, I will not charge you full price for the things--only what it cost to make them. For, as you say, it was an advertisement. And I know the boys did not mean it." "Indeed we didn't!" cried Teddy. "We can take the broken buns and feed them to Skyrocket and Top, and Mr. Nip and Jack will eat them, too," he said to his father. "It will be just as good as buying stale bread for the monkey and the parrot, Daddy. I guess they'll like buns better." "I shouldn't be surprised if they did," laughed Mr. Martin. "Well, as you say, Teddy, it will save buying stale bread." Some of the pets were fed on this, and now the broken buns would take its place for a few meals. By this time the crowd began leaving the bakery, as the excitement was over. Teddy and Jimmy picked up the last of the rats and mice, putting them back in the mended cage. "And make sure the door of the cage is fastened," Mr. Martin said to Teddy, as the baker was paid for the buns. "We don't want the creatures getting loose again." "It's good and tight," Teddy said. "They won't get out again except when we take them out to do circus tricks." Carrying the cage of white mice and rats between them, Teddy and Jimmy walked down the street in front of Mr. Martin, and soon the pets were safely back in the barn. "I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" cried the green, red and yellow parrot, as the boys entered. The talkative bird whistled, at which sound Skyrocket and Top, who were asleep in one corner of the barn, awakened and began to bark loudly. "Your parrot whistles just like one of us fellows," said Jimmy to Teddy. "Yes, he does," admitted the Curlytop chap. "I have been trying to think what tricks we could make him do in the circus. But the trouble is he doesn't always talk or whistle when you want him to. And when you don't want him to he nearly always does it." "Well, anyway, he'll be nice to look at in the pet circus," said Jimmy. "And in the regular circus they have animals and birds to look at, as well as the kind that do tricks." "Yes," agreed Teddy, "I guess so." "I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" shrieked the parrot again, pulling himself up to the top of his cage by means of his big beak, his black tongue licking the bars as if he liked them. "Well, if you're a crack-crack-cracker, here's a bun-bun-bunner for you," laughed Teddy, and out of the bag Mr. Martin had carried from the bakeshop Teddy took several of the broken pieces and fed them to the parrot. Seeing this, Jack, the monkey, who was in his cage, set up a chattering such as he must have learned in the jungle where he came from. "What's the matter with him?" Jimmy wanted to know. "I guess he wants some of the broken buns, too," said Teddy. "Here, you give the monkey some, and I'll feed Skyrocket and Top. They want some, too." Soon such of Uncle Toby's pets as liked this form of food were having all the buns they wanted. Mr. Nip, the parrot, tore his pieces of the buns apart to get at the currants. But Jack, Top and Skyrocket ate theirs down, currants and all, as if they liked every crumb. The white rats and mice were not given any of the broken buns, as it was thought they had had enough in the bakery, and Teddy knew it was not wise to overfeed any pet animals. Cats, dogs and other pets should not be fed too much, though of course they should not be allowed to go hungry very long. When animals can run around as they please, or when they live wild in the jungle or forest, they never eat too much. They know when to stop. But often persons, wishing to be kind, will give their dogs and cats too much meat, or other rich food. And as these pets do not run around and exercise very much, they cannot digest all they eat, so they often become ill. Teddy did not want this to happen to any of his pets. Another thing he was careful about was always to see that they had plenty of fresh water. Nothing is more important than this. It is cruel to have any pet suffer for water to drink, especially in summer. So if you keep pets of any kind, don't feed them too much, but give them plenty of water. They never can take too much of this. "When you going to have your circus?" asked Jimmy of Teddy, when the animals had quieted down, eating the pieces of buns. "Oh, pretty soon, I guess. Janet and I are going to teach them a lot of new tricks." "I wish I could help," said Jimmy. "You can," Teddy promised. "Jan and I will need someone to help us with the circus. I'm going to ask Jack Turton and Harry Kent, too. Jack is so funny and fat he'll make a good clown." "I'd rather be one of the animal trainers," said Jimmy. "That's what you and I'll be--animal trainers," decided Teddy. "My sister Jan's good with animals, too. She isn't afraid of even a snake." "That's good," decided Jimmy. "Maybe we could get some snakes to have in the circus--little ones, you know." "It would be fine!" exclaimed Teddy. "But where can we get any?" "Oh, in the woods, I guess. I'll see if I can find any. But I've got to go home now." "All right. Come over to-morrow and we'll start training the animals," replied Teddy. And the next day Teddy, Janet and Jimmy began to teach the pets some new tricks. I will tell you about them when the time comes. It was not easy work, and more than once the Curlytops and their friend were discouraged. For just when they thought they had Top and Skyrocket so they would do a trick together, one or the other of the dogs would run away, wagging his tail, however, in friendly fashion, to show there were no hard feelings. The cats were the hardest to teach. Snuff did very well with his ball rolling trick and one or two others, and Turnover would turn in a sort of side-somersault whenever told to do so by Janet. But to teach the two cats to do tricks together was much harder. It was this--the tricks they could do together--that made Tip and Top such a valuable team of dogs. "Do you think you'll ever get Tip back?" asked Jimmy, as he, with the Curlytops, was resting one day after putting the pets through some of their tricks. "We keep hoping so," said Janet. "But it doesn't look so now," added her brother. "He's been gone so long, and not even the police can find him. They can't find Shorty, either. I guess Shorty and Tip ran a way together." "And maybe Shorty has Tip in a circus, making him do tricks," added Janet. "Maybe," agreed Teddy. "But now we've got to think where we're going to get a tent for our show. If we give a pet animal circus we've got to have a tent." "Sure!" agreed Jimmy. "It wouldn't be a circus without a tent. But maybe my father can get us one. He used to be in the army." "Oh, let's go ask him!" cried Janet. "We can leave our pets here in the barn now, for they've been fed and watered." Off the children hurried to Jimmy's house. His father was not at home, but Mrs. Norton said she thought her husband could get a tent that would do for the circus. "And since you have been feeding the animals, wouldn't you like to feed yourselves now?" asked Jimmy's mother, with a smile at the Curlytops and her own son. "Feed ourselves--how?" asked Teddy. At the same time he noticed a most delicious smell coming from Mrs. Norton's kitchen. "I have just baked some molasses cookies," went on Jimmy's mother, "and I have some lovely, cool milk. Would you like some glasses of milk and molasses cookies?" "Sure!" exclaimed Teddy. "Fine!" cried Jimmy. "We'd like it very much, if you please," said Janet, and she was extra polite, to make up for the rather boisterous manner in which Teddy spoke. But the boys meant to be polite and, after all, that is what counts. Soon the Curlytops and their friend were out on the side porch, drinking the cool, rich milk and eating the fresh molasses cookies. It was while they were thus sitting, talking about the circus they were going to give, that into the yard came running Top, Uncle Toby's trick dog. "Hello, Top!" called Teddy. "Were you looking for us?" Top barked and wagged his tail. Then he acted in a strange manner. He ran up to Teddy, and caught hold of the boy's coat. "Oh, he's trying to bite you!" exclaimed Janet. "He is not! Top would never bite me!" declared Teddy. But he wondered what the dog was trying to do. Then Top let go his hold of the coat, and ran a little way toward the gate. There he stopped and looked back toward the children. "What makes him act that funny way?" asked Jimmy. "I don't know," answered Teddy. With another bark, and wagging his tail, Top again ran up to Teddy and pulled on his coat. "I know what it is!" exclaimed the Curlytop boy. "Something has happened, and Top has come to tell us and get us to go with him! Come on, Jimmy! Come on, Jan!" CHAPTER XII MR. NIP'S ALARM Together the two Curlytops and their friend Jimmy Norton ran out of Jimmy's yard and down the street, following Top, the trick dog. For as soon as Top had seen that Teddy was following after him, which, evidently, was just what Top wanted, the dog raced on, barking wildly. "Do you think he came to call you?" panted Janet, as she ran beside her brother. "Sure he did," Ted answered. "Didn't you ever read in books how dogs do that when they want you to come to help somebody who's in trouble--like somebody in the water?" "I've read lots of stories like that," said Jimmy. "Oh, maybe something has happened to Trouble!" cried Janet. "Mother took Trouble down town with her," Teddy answered. "So if Trouble is in trouble Top wouldn't know it." "Maybe our house is on fire," went on Janet, who seemed quite determined to have something dreadful happen. "You'd hear the alarm bell and see the engines if there was a fire," declared Jimmy. "Well, it's _something_!" exclaimed Janet. "Isn't it a pity dogs can't talk like parrots? If they could, Top could tell us just what the matter was." "We'll see pretty soon," said her brother. "We're almost at our house, and it must be there that something is the matter." As the children were racing down the street, with Top running in front of them, looking back every now and then to make sure the Curlytops and Jimmy were following, a man stopped the children and said: "Why are you chasing that poor dog? Don't you know it is wrong to tease and annoy animals?" "We're not teasing him," Teddy answered. "He's our dog, anyhow." "That is no matter," the fussy man said. "I think it is wrong to chase dogs or to tie tin cans on their tails." "As if we'd tie a tin can to the tail of our nice Top!" exclaimed Janet. "We _never_ tie cans to dogs' tails!" she added. "And we're running after Top because he wants us to. He came to get us because something has happened at our house." Seeing that the children had stopped, because the strange man had halted them, Top came running back, barking and wagging his tail. He caught hold of Teddy's coat, and again pulled it. "See!" exclaimed Ted. "He wants us to follow him. He did that before, and that's why we ran after him, not because we're chasing him, Mister." The man looked at the excited dog and at the kind-faced children. He must have known they would never have harmed animals, for he said: "Oh, excuse me! I guess I made a mistake. I thought you were chasing the poor dog. Excuse me!" The strange man turned and hurried off down the street, and after looking toward him for a few seconds the Curlytops and their chum again hastened along, following Top, who grew more excited all the while. Into the yard of the Martin house dashed Top, closely followed by the children. But the dog did not stop at the house, nor did he run toward the barn where the other pets were kept. When Ted, Janet and Jimmy went over to Jimmy's house they had left the two dogs and the two cats playing outside the barn. Now there was no sight of Snuff and Turnover, nor of Skyrocket, the other dog. Down past the barn and toward the brook into which Trouble had more than once fallen, ran Top, the trick dog. "Oh, Trouble must have come back and have fallen in!" cried Janet. "I don't believe so," said her brother. "If Trouble was in the water you'd hear him howling." "Unless his head was under," suggested Jimmy. "Yes, unless his head under," agreed Teddy. "But I don't believe it's Trouble. If it was anything like that, Top wouldn't come all the way to your house after us, Jimmy. He'd have barked and have gotten someone around here to come to the rescue." "There isn't anybody home at our house but us, and we weren't home," explained Janet. "Mother and Trouble are down town, and Susan, our new girl, has gone out." "I guess that's why Top came to us," Teddy said. "But where is he going, anyhow, and what is the matter?" Barking and still wagging his tail, to show how glad he was that the children were coming where he wanted them, Top led the way down along the brook. The Curlytops passed the place where they had played ships the day Trouble was sent afloat in the box--the day Uncle Toby's letter came, telling about the pets he was leaving. "What is it, Top? What's the matter, old fellow?" asked Teddy. A bark was the dog's answer. But a moment later, as the children turned a bend in the stream, they heard a howl coming from a bunch of tall cat-tail plants growing on the edge of a swamp not far from the brook. It was the mournful howl of a dog in pain. "That's Skyrocket!" cried Teddy. "And he's in trouble!" added Janet. "And that's why Top came to get us," declared Jimmy. Top was barking louder than ever now, and as the Curlytops and their friend hurried along they could hear, more plainly, the howls of the dog they felt sure was their own, dear Skyrocket. And a moment later, as they parted the green spears of the cat-tails, they saw, lying on the ground in the mud and water, poor Skyrocket. Their pet looked up at them and howled mournfully. "Oh, he's drowning!" cried Janet, as she saw that Skyrocket was partly covered by the water of the swamp. "He's got a broken leg!" said Jimmy. "Dogs can go on three legs, if one is broken, though they can't go very fast," said Teddy. "Skyrocket is caught fast, that's what's the matter." Top seemed overjoyed that he had brought help to his dog friend. Close up beside Skyrocket Top crawled, whining in sympathy, and then Top began licking, with his red tongue, one of Skyrocket's legs. "Oh, I see what the matter is!" cried Teddy. "Skyrocket's leg is caught in a trap! That's why he couldn't get loose! Look!" Teddy pointed to where, half hidden in the mud, water, and grass, was a spring trap. It was fast to a chain, and the chain was attached to a wooden stake, driven into the ground. But, worst of all, the steel jaws of the trap had snapped shut on the lower part of Skyrocket's left hind leg. The poor dog tried to stand up, but could not, as whenever he attempted to move the chain held him back. "Poor Skyrocket!" murmured Janet, almost ready to cry. "I'll get him loose!" said Teddy. "It's a good thing Top came and told us what the matter was, or maybe we'd never have known it," remarked Jimmy. "Come on, Jim! Help me open the trap and get Sky's leg out," said Teddy. "You pat his head--I mean Sky's head, Jan, and that will let him know we aren't going to hurt him." So while Top looked on, whining in sympathy with his injured dog friend, and while Janet softly rubbed the head of Skyrocket, the two boys opened the trap. While Jimmy held it steady Teddy stepped on the strong spring with his foot. This was the only way to open it. In another moment the trap was gently pulled loose from the leg of Skyrocket, and the poor dog, with a whine of thanks, managed to stand up. He tried to step on the injured leg, but quickly drew it up with a howl of pain. "Oh, maybe it's broken!" half sobbed Janet. "A dog can get well with a broken leg, but a horse can't," said Jimmy. "At least a horse never does, because he is so big he can't be kept off his leg until it heals. A horse can't go on three legs like a dog." "A horse can stand up on two legs, and walk a little. I've seen 'em in a circus!" declared Janet. "But I never saw a horse go on three legs." "There goes Skyrocket on three legs!" called Teddy, for his pet hobbled along a little way, to a drier part of the swamp, and then lay down and began licking with his red tongue the leg that had been caught in a trap. "Look and see if it's broken," suggested Jimmy. "If it is, we'd better tie sticks around it like the principal of our school did one day when Tommy Hicks broke his leg." "I remember that time," responded Teddy. "Easy now, old fellow," he said to Skyrocket. "Let me feel your leg to see if it is broken." Gently, very gently, Teddy moved his fingers along the injured leg. Skyrocket whined a little, but remained lying there quietly. At last Teddy stood up. "I don't believe it's broken," he said. "I guess it was only pinched hard in the trap." "It's a smooth-jawed trap, not the kind with the teeth like a saw," said Jimmy, looking at the trap which had been allowed to spring shut after Skyrocket's leg was drawn out. "They use big traps, with terrible sharp teeth and jaws, to catch bears," said the little boy. "I'm glad this wasn't that kind of trap," said Janet. "But who put it here, anyhow?" "It's an old one, and rusty," went on Jimmy, looking at the trap, while Teddy got some water from the swamp in the top of his cap, and poured it over the bruised place where Skyrocket's leg seemed to hurt most. The water appeared to ease the pain a little, and the dog whined gratefully. Top, now that his work of bringing someone to the rescue was over, stretched out in a cool place and rested, breathing with his mouth open and his tongue hanging out. This is the way dogs always cool themselves. "Yes, it's an old, rusty trap," agreed Teddy, coming up to look at the thing that had caught Skyrocket. "I guess some muskrat hunter left it here, all set and ready to catch some animal that came along, ever since last winter. Maybe the spring was rusty, and not so strong, and that's why it didn't break Skyrocket's leg." "I'm glad it didn't!" voiced Janet. "So'm I," echoed Jimmy. "But how are you going to get Skyrocket home?" "Oh, it isn't far, and he can go on three legs," said Teddy. "Come on, old fellow," he called, and Skyrocket managed to hobble along the brook path and up to the house. Top walked along beside him, every now and then putting out his tongue and gently licking his companion. "He's kissing him 'cause he's sorry," observed Janet. "We're all sorry," declared Teddy. "I'm going to ask mother if we can't have the animal doctor look at Skyrocket's leg." "Why, children! what is the matter? Has anything happened, Curlytops?" asked Mrs. Martin, who had reached home with Trouble by the time the two boys and Janet made their way up the back path to the house. "Skyrocket's leg was caught in a trap, and can't we have the animal doctor see if it's broken?" Teddy asked. Then the story was told, not forgetting the brave and intelligent part played by Top, and Mrs. Martin examined Skyrocket's sore leg. "I don't believe it is broken, but we'll have the doctor look to make sure," she said. And you can just imagine how glad the Curlytops were, and Jimmy also, when the doctor said: "The leg is not broken, but it is badly bruised. However, it will be well in a week or so. Keep Skyrocket as quiet as you can." "We will!" promised Janet. "We want him to get well so he can be in the circus," added Teddy. "Oh, I guess he'll be all right for that," said the doctor, with a laugh as he hurried away to look after a sick horse. A soft bed was made for Skyrocket in the barn, and a basin of fresh water was placed near him. He licked Teddy's hands in gratitude as the little boy patted him in coming away. It was several days after the adventure with Skyrocket and the trap that something else exciting happened at the home of the Curlytops. Mr. Nip, the red, green and yellow parrot, became ill. His feathers were ruffled up, he sat all in a lump on his perch, and he would not eat. "I guess you'd better have the man from the bird store come up to see your parrot," said Mr. Martin, when he went out to the barn at the children's request to look at Mr. Nip. "Your mother will call the bird man on the telephone." And when the bird man--that is to say the man who kept the bird and fish store--came to see Mr. Nip, he said the parrot should be kept in the kitchen and fed special food with a little medicine in it for a few days. So that is how it happened that Mr. Nip was moved in from the barn to the house. And it was the third night that the parrot had slept in the house that something happened. In the middle of the night the Curlytops were awakened by hearing Mr. Nip cry out loudly: "Go 'way! Go 'way! I'm a crack-crack-cracker! Get out of here!" Teddy and Janet, who seemed to be the only ones awakened by this alarm of Mr. Nip, listened, half shivering in their beds. "Did you hear that?" called Teddy to his sister in the next room. "Yes. What is it?" inquired Janet. "It's Mr. Nip," whispered back the Curlytop boy. "He's calling to someone. Maybe daddy or mother's down there giving him medicine." But just then the parrot set up such a screeching as the children had never heard, since he came from Uncle Toby's at least. "Go 'way! Go 'way!" cried the bird. "I'm a crack-crack-cracker! Police! Fire! Burglars!" And then, to the surprise and terror of the Curlytops, a strange voice, somewhere downstairs in their house, exclaimed in a harsh whisper: "Do something to that parrot! Throw a rug over his cage, or he'll have the whole house awake. Make him be quiet!" CHAPTER XIII THE HAND-ORGAN MAN The Curlytops cuddled down in their beds. Janet said afterward that she pulled the clothes over her ears. Teddy did the same at first, and then he began to think. And his first thought was that someone besides those who had a right to be there, were in his mother's kitchen. And of course the next thought that came to Teddy was: "Burglars!" Somehow or other he happened to hit on just exactly the very thing that was happening downstairs. "Jan! Janet!" hoarsely whispered Teddy, thrusting his head out from under the sheet he had pulled over himself. But Janet did not answer. From down in the kitchen, however, the little Curlytop boy could plainly hear the parrot saying: "I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" "I'll hit him a crack if he doesn't keep quiet!" said a harsh voice. "Do you hear anyone coming, Bill?" "No," replied another voice, which, Teddy thought, must belong to the man called Bill. "They're burglars trying to get our parrot!" quickly thought Teddy. "I'm not going to let them have Mr. Nip. If they take him away he can't be in our circus. Course he can't do tricks like Skyrocket and Top, but he's nice to look at. The burglars shan't get Mr. Nip!" Teddy slipped out of bed and went, as softly as he could, to the room where his father and mother slept. They were sound in slumber, which is the reason neither of them heard the parrot talking and screeching. Besides, the rooms of Teddy and Janet were nearer the kitchen. "Daddy! Mother! Wake up!" whispered Teddy. The sound of his parents' heavy breathing was the only answer the little boy received. "Daddy! Mother!" he called again. "Wake up! There's a burglar downstairs, and he's trying to take Mr. Nip!" There was silence for a moment, and then Teddy reached over and gently pulled his mother by her hand, which was hanging down outside the bed. "What is it? What's the matter?" suddenly asked Mrs. Martin. In another instant she had pulled the cord attached to an electric light over her bed, and the room was bright in a moment. Then Mr. Martin awakened, and both parents looked at the little Curlytop boy. "What's the matter, Ted? Walking in your sleep?" asked his father. For sometimes Teddy did do that. In answer the little fellow put his finger to his lips to make his father and mother understand that he wanted them to keep quiet. "It's burglars--two of 'em!" whispered Teddy. "One is named Bill, but I don't know the other one's name. They've come to get Mr. Nip." "What's that--our parrot? Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Martin. "You have been dreaming, Teddy, my boy. Go back to bed." But just then, from down in the kitchen, came the voice of the parrot shrieking: "I'm a crack-crack-cracker! Police, Fire! Burglars!" Then came a banging, clashing sound, and a man's voice cried: "There! See if that will keep you quiet!" An instant later there was a sound as if the parrot's cage had been knocked over, or had tumbled over, and Mr. Nip cried: "Help! Help! Help!" Out of bed jumped Mr. Martin, going toward the closet where he kept his revolver. "It is burglars!" he whispered. "Oh, you mustn't go down! They might shoot you! Go to the window and call the police!" begged Mrs. Martin, clinging to her husband. Mr. Martin did both. He went to the window and fired a shot from his revolver up into the air. My! what a loud noise it made, and it set Skyrocket and Top to barking out in the barn. Perhaps the monkey chattered also, but he could not be heard. However, Mr. Nip's shrill shrieking seemed to resound all over the neighborhood. There was a moon, and as he looked from his bedroom window Mr. Martin, by its light, saw two men running out of the side gate. "There go the burglars!" he cried, and again he fired a shot. This made the strange men run all the faster, and by this time Trouble had awakened and was crying. "Janet, you come in and stay with Trouble," called Mrs. Martin "I'll get dressed, and then, when the police come, we must see what the burglars have taken! Oh, what a dreadful night! I hope they haven't stolen much!" "And I hope they didn't take Mr. Nip," echoed Teddy. "I don't believe they carried away much of anything," Mr. Martin remarked, as he slipped on his bath robe. "I didn't see them carry much as they ran." By this time Janet had gone in to Trouble, comforting him, stopping his frightened sobs, and telling him a little story. And then several neighbors, roused by Mr. Martin's shooting, came in, and a little later the police arrived. An examination was made in the kitchen, and it was found that the burglars had broken open a window and had thus come into the house. But no sooner had they entered than Mr. Nip roused up and began to talk. And it was his talk and his loud voice that had awakened Janet and Teddy. The burglars, fearing the parrot would awaken someone, had tried to silence him by throwing something over the cage. But the bird, who was always more excited when strangers were around, kept on screeching and yelling. Then one of the burglars, in his anger, must have thrown something at the parrot's cage, knocking it over, and this was one of the crashes heard upstairs. "Poor Mr. Nip!" said Teddy, when he was allowed to come down with his father and mother. The parrot's cage was set upright again, no damage having been done. The excitement seemed to have made Mr. Nip feel better, for he showed no signs of illness as he cried again and again: "Police! Fire! Burglars! I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" "You're a good polly!" declared Mrs. Martin. "You saved our house from being robbed!" And there is no question but what Mr. Nip had done that. Bringing the sick parrot into the kitchen had been the means of scaring away the burglars. No thieves will stay in a house at night if they hear someone moving around, or hear voices, and these bad men may have thought at first that Mr. Nip was some real person, calling for the police. At any rate the burglars ran away, not getting anything that they came to steal. And it was all due to Mr. Nip. "He'll sure be in our circus now," said Teddy, as he made ready to go back to bed again, the neighbors and police having left. "Everybody will want to see a parrot that drove away two burglars, won't they, Daddy?" "They probably will, Teddy boy," his father replied. "Well, one of Uncle Toby's pets has more than paid for his board bill by to-night's work." "Aren't you glad we got 'em?" asked Teddy. "Yes, I guess I am," his father answered, laughing. "Say! I wish I'd been over to your house last night," exclaimed Jimmy Norton to Teddy, when the story of the attempt to rob was being talked over among the children. "Well, I was wishing I was somewhere else," said Janet. "Oh, but I was scared!" "I was at first, but I knew I had to tell my mother or my father," remarked Teddy. "So I got out of bed." "Teddy was brave," declared Janet. "Oh, that wasn't anything," the little Curlytop boy said modestly. "I wasn't as brave as Mr. Nip. He called the burglars names!" "Everybody will be glad to come to the circus to see him," said Harry Kent, who was going to help with the show. "We'll put Mr. Nip in a special cage, and put a sign on so people will know he's the parrot that scared the burglars," suggested fat Jackie Turton. In fact, Mr. Nip became quite celebrated. For there was an account in the newspaper of the attempted burglary at the Martin house, and the part the parrot had played was well told, so that all over Cresco Mr. Nip was talked about. "It's a good advertisement for our circus, isn't it, Daddy?" asked Teddy, for the paper mentioned that the Curlytops had a number of pets they were getting ready to place on exhibition in a show. "Yes," said Mr. Martin, "it is." "What are you going to do with the money you get from your circus--if you get any?" asked Mrs. Martin of the Curlytops one day about a week after the burglars had gotten in. By this time Mr. Nip was quite well again, and could go back to the barn to be with the monkey, the alligator and the white mice and the rats. "Oh, we'll get _some_ money," declared Teddy. "But I don't know what we'll do with it. Maybe we'll buy more pets." "Oh, I hope not!" laughed his mother. "You have enough now." As the days passed the Curlytops and their friends worked with Uncle Toby's animals, teaching them several new tricks. More than once Teddy and Janet wished they had Tip, the missing dog, as he had performed so well with Top. But no word had come about him, and it was felt he was gone forever. "Skyrocket is good," Teddy told his boy chums, "but he isn't as good a trick dog as Tip and Top were when they did their tricks together." "Maybe we can teach Jack, the monkey, some new tricks," suggested Harry Kent. "Oh, yes, Jack must learn a lot of tricks," agreed Teddy. "We'll start on him now, I guess, as about the only tricks Snuff can do are to roll around on the football and jump through a paper hoop." That last trick was a new one, and really had not been intended for Snuff. One day Teddy and Janet were getting some paper-covered hoops ready for Skyrocket or Top to jump through, as the dogs seemed to like that trick. Snuff and Turnover were playing together near by, and when Turnover chased Snuff, the Persian cat leaped right through a paper hoop. "Oh, if we could only make him do that for the circus!" Janet cried. "It would be great!" "We'll try," Teddy had said. And, after many trials, they did succeed in getting Snuff to leap through a paper hoop. It was a fine trick. But now the Curlytops planned to teach Jack, their monkey, some tricks in addition to a few that he had learned from Uncle Toby or the sailor. So Jack was brought out from his cage and given a banana, fruit of which he was very fond. "What trick shall we teach him?" asked Janet. "I think a jumping trick would be good," Teddy answered. "I'll go and get some boxes, and we'll make a high thing, like a tower, of them. We'll get Jack up on top, and have him jump down. That will be great, won't it?" "Fine," agreed Janet. "I'll help you get the boxes." The Curlytops left their monkey sitting on a bench in the yard while they went back into the barn after the boxes. Jack was peacefully eating his banana when Teddy and Janet left him. But when the children came out with the boxes, it having taken longer to find them than they had thought, Jack was not to be seen. "Oh, Jack is gone!" cried Janet, looking around. "Maybe he's up in a tree," suggested Teddy. "Here, Jack! Jack!" he called. But there was no chattering answer, and the monkey was not to be found. He had not gone back into the barn, where the other pets were, and Trouble, who was playing in the back yard, said Jack had not passed him. "Where can he be?" asked Janet. She and Teddy were beginning to worry, when Mrs. Johnson, into whose baby carriage Slider had once been put by Baby William, called from across the street: "Are you looking for your dog, children?" "No'm. For our monkey," answered Teddy. "Oh, maybe the hand-organ man has him," said Mrs. Johnson. "I saw an Italian with an organ go into your yard a little while ago." "Did he have a monkey with him?" asked Teddy. "I don't much believe that he did. I saw the man go in, but I didn't notice a monkey. But I remember now that when the organ man came out, he had a monkey with him. Maybe it was yours." "I'm sure it was!" cried Janet. "Oh, Ted! The hand-organ man has taken Jack! He took Jack when we were in the barn!" "I didn't hear any hand-organ music," Teddy said. "Course he wouldn't play when he came to get Jack!" exclaimed Jan, with tears in her eyes. "Oh, Ted, go for the police! The hand-organ man has taken our monkey! Oh dear!" CHAPTER XIV TURNOVER AND SKYROCKET Perhaps it would have been better for the Curlytops to have run into the house and have told their mother about the missing monkey. But neither Janet nor Teddy thought of this, because they were so excited over the news that Mrs. Johnson gave them--the news that Jack had been taken away by a hand-organ man. "We've got to get him back!" cried Teddy. "Of course!" agreed Janet. "It won't be half a circus without a monkey in it." "Come on!" called Ted, and out of the yard he ran, followed by Janet. The Curlytops took one look to make sure that Trouble was safe before going away and leaving him. The little fellow was playing with Turnover and Skyrocket. He would do that for a long time. Out of the yard and down the street ran the little boy and girl, thinking only of getting their monkey back. "Did he go this way?" Teddy called to Mrs. Johnson, who was watching him and his sister. "Yes, right down that street," answered the mother of Baby Ruth. "But you had better not chase after him. He might not give Jack back to you, and he might be cross, and maybe it wasn't your monkey he had at all, Curlytops!" But Teddy and Janet did not stay to hear all this. They hurried on, Teddy a little ahead of his sister, because, being a boy and a year older, he could go faster. But every now and then he stopped to wait for her. They turned the corner of a street, and Teddy, being in the lead, had the first glimpse down it. "Do you see him?" gasped Janet, hurrying up to the side of her brother. "No, he isn't here," was the answer. Mr. Anderson, who left groceries at the home of the Curlytops, came along just then in the delivery wagon. "Whoa!" he called to his horse. And then, seeing that Teddy and Janet were worried about something, he asked them: "Have you lost your little brother?" Mr. Anderson knew how often Trouble ran away. "No, sir," answered Teddy. "We're looking for our monkey." "And the hand-organ man," added Janet. "Monkey? Hand-organ man?" exclaimed Mr. Anderson. "Are you going to give a party, and do you want the hand-organ man to play at it, and the monkey to do tricks?" "Oh, no, this is our own pet monkey," exclaimed Janet. "The hand-organ man took him away when he was eating a banana," added Teddy. "Our monkey--his name is Jack--he was eating the banana--not the hand-organ man," said Jan, fearing Mr. Anderson might not understand what her brother meant. "And he does tricks, and we're going to have him in our little circus--I mean our monkey does tricks," went on Teddy. "Well, I guess I'll get the straight of it after a while," said Mr. Anderson, with a little laugh. "Anyhow it seems that some stray hand-organ man has taken your monkey, has he?" "Yes. And we want our monkey back!" cried Janet. "Then you'd better get up here in the wagon with me," went on the grocery man, "and I'll drive you down the street. It will be quicker than walking, and, as I've delivered all the orders, I'm in no hurry to get back to the store. Hop up, Curlytops!" He helped Janet and Teddy to the seat beside him, and drove off. It was not the first time the children had ridden with Mr. Anderson, for he often took them with him when he had occasion to stop at their house. "Do you know which street he went down?" asked the grocery man, as he called to his brown horse which started off again. "We don't know," answered Teddy. "We didn't see him. We were in the barn, getting some boxes so Jack--that's the monkey--could do some tricks. We left him eating a banana, and when we came out he was gone. But Mrs. Johnson said she saw a hand-organ man come out of our yard and he had a monkey." "And it must 'a' been Jack!" added Janet. "Well, we'll try to get him back for you," promised Mr. Anderson, as he guided the horse down the street. "And we'll ask some of the people we meet if they have seen Jack." "Oh, now I know we'll get him back!" exclaimed Janet, and there was a smile on her face where, before, there had been a sad look, which always came just before she cried. "I'm glad we met you, Mr. Anderson," she said. "So am I," agreed Teddy. The first person they met was Patrick, the man who worked for Mrs. Blake, the lady into whose house Jack made his way one night, making Mrs. Blake think he was a fuzzy burglar. "Oh, Patrick!" cried Teddy, "a hand-organ man took our monkey away. Have you seen him?" "Which? The hand-organ man or the monkey?" asked Mrs. Blake's gardener. "Either one," said Janet. "He's the same monkey that was once in your house, you know." "Yes," returned Patrick, with a smile, "I know. Well, I'm sorry, but I didn't see either the hand-organ man or the monkey." "Giddap!" called Mr. Anderson to his horse. "We must try someone else." They drove along a little farther, and next they met Sam White, a colored man, who cut grass and did other work for the neighbors of the Curlytops. "Oh, Sam! have you seen our monkey, Jack?" called Teddy. "Seen a monkey? No'm, I hasn't," answered the colored man, who had been wheeling a lawn-mower. "Did you see a hand-organ man?" asked Janet. "Yes'm, I done seen a hand-organ man," was the answer. "He's jest 'round de corner ob de next street. But I didn't see him hab no monkey." "Maybe he has our monkey hidden inside the hand-organ so no one will see Jack!" cried Teddy. "Please hurry, Mr. Anderson!" "I will," promised the grocery man. "Giddap there, Molasses!" he called to his horse. "We're in a hurry!" And as they turned the corner of the street, toward which Sam White had pointed, there came to the ears of the Curlytops the strains of hand-organ music. "There he is! I see him!" cried Janet, pointing. "He's stopped, and he's playing!" "Yes, and I see our monkey, too!" added Teddy. "Please hurry down there, Mr. Anderson, and we'll take Jack away from that bad hand-organ man." "Maybe it isn't your monkey," said the grocer. "All monkeys look alike to me. I couldn't tell one from the other, but maybe you can. Giddap, Molasses!" he called again to his horse, and down the street clattered the Curlytops. They came to a stop in front of the organ grinder just as the dark-colored Italian ground out the last strains of a tune. And there, surely enough, perched on the top of the organ, was a monkey. "Jack! Jack! Come here!" cried Teddy, getting ready to jump down from his seat in the wagon. "Come away from that bad man!" added Janet. The organ grinder turned quickly, gave one look at the Curlytops and at Mr. Anderson, and then, slinging his organ up on his back, started hurriedly up the street, taking the monkey with him. "Here! Hold on a minute!" called the grocer, getting down off the seat, and then helping Teddy and Janet down. "If you have a monkey belonging to these children you must give it back, or I'll call a policeman!" [Illustration: JACK MADE ONE LEAP AND LANDED SAFELY IN TEDDY'S ARMS. "The Curlytops and Their Pets." Page 174] "No! No!" jabbered the Italian. "Dis a-monk mine! Long time mine! No belong childerns! Goo'-bye!" He would have been off down the street and around the corner in another few seconds, but Teddy, rushing after him, looked and made sure it really was Jack that the organ player had with him. There was a queer little tuft of white hair on the end of Jack's tail, and this monkey had the same mark. "Jack! Jack!" cried Teddy. "Come on, to me! I'll give you all the bananas you want!" "Dis-a my monk!" jabbered the Italian. "He is not! He's ours!" declared Janet, as she hurried up to the side of her brother. "Make him give back our monkey that we got from Uncle Toby!" she appealed to Mr. Anderson. "If he doesn't," said the grocer, "I'll call a policeman and----" But just then Jack acted for himself. With a shrill chatter he broke loose from the string that was tied to the collar about his neck. There had been no cord on him when he was eating a banana in the yard of the Curlytops, and the hand-organ man must have tied it there after he took the children's pet. Once free, Jack made one leap and landed safe in Teddy's arms. Now, Jack was rather a large monkey, and, jumping from a distance, as Jack did, he knocked Teddy over. Flat down on the sidewalk sat Teddy, the monkey clinging with its hairy arms about the little boy's neck. "Oh! Oh!" exclaimed Janet, and then she stopped, for she did not know what else to say. "Look out!" cried Mr. Anderson. "Maybe that's a savage monkey, and he'll bite you!" "This is Jack all right," declared Teddy. "I know him and he knows me. He didn't hurt me. I--I just sat down, that's all," and the little Curlytop boy laughed. Jack chattered, clung tighter to his master, and then the crowd that had gathered also laughed. For it looked so odd to see Teddy sitting on the sidewalk, with a monkey, quite a large one, clinging to his neck. "What's the matter here? What's the trouble?" asked a gruff but not unkindly voice, and on the outside of the crowd appeared Policeman Cassidy. "Oh, Cassidy," said Mr. Anderson, "this Italian took the Curlytops' monkey, and they just got him back--I mean they got the monkey back. The Italian----" But with a half-smothered cry of anger, the Italian started to run down the street, his hand-organ swaying from side to side on his back. He had no wish to meet Policeman Cassidy and be arrested for having taken Jack. And that is just what the Italian had done. He had sneaked into the yard and, seeing the monkey unfastened and eating a banana, had picked up the pet and hurried off with him. The Italian must have known how to talk to and handle monkeys, for Jack made no outcry, but went peaceably with his captor. Perhaps the monkey was afraid of being beaten. And, so that Jack could not get away, the Italian had tied a string to the collar. But, thanks to Mr. Anderson and the grocery wagon, the Curlytops had gotten back their pet. The Italian had not played his organ very near the home of Teddy and Janet for fear of their hearing it, I suppose. But when he thought he was far enough away he started, and Sam White had heard him. "Maybe the hand-organ man kept Jack hidden under his coat until he got down here," said Janet. "Perhaps," agreed the grocer, as the crowd began to melt away, seeing there was to be no more excitement. "And now if you Curlytops, and your monkey, will get into the wagon, I'll drive you back home." "Do you want me to chase after that Italian and arrest him?" asked the policeman. "No, thank you, I guess not," answered Teddy, as he rubbed Jack's fuzzy head. "We got our monkey back, and now we can start to teach him some tricks for the circus. We'll send you a free ticket to the show, Mr. Anderson, 'cause you helped us get Jack back." Janet whispered something to her brother. "Oh, yes," added the little fellow, "we'd like to have you come, too, Mr. Policeman Cassidy." "I'll come and stand guard at the ticket wagon," laughed the big, good-natured officer. "And if I see that Italian sneaking up I'll chase him." "I guess he won't come," said Teddy. Then he and his sister climbed up on the seat beside Mr. Anderson and were driven back to their home. It was time, too, for their mother was out at the gate, holding Trouble by the hand, and looking up and down the street. "Where have you been, Curlytops?" she asked them. "And what are you doing in Mr. Anderson's wagon--and with the monkey? Did Jack run away?" she asked. "He was taken away," explained Teddy. "By an old organ grinder," added Janet. And then the story was told. "Dear me," said Mrs. Martin, when it was finished. "I'm sure if your father and I had known all the things that were going to happen because of Uncle Toby's pets, we would not have brought them home." "Oh, it's fun!" laughed Teddy, slipping down with Jack. "And Policeman Cassidy is coming to our circus," said Janet. "Don't forget me!" called Mr. Anderson, as he drove away with the wagon. "We won't!" promised the Curlytops. "You been take Jack to barber's?" asked Trouble, letting go his mother's hand to pat the monkey. "The barber's?" repeated Teddy, as he put Jack down on a box and gave the pet a banana, as had been promised. "What made him think that?" Teddy asked his mother. "He's been singing that Mother Goose verse, 'Barber, barber! shave a pig. How many hairs will make a wig? Four and twenty, that's enough, give the barber a pinch of snuff.' I suppose Trouble thought maybe Snuff, the cat, had something to do with a barber, and he got Jack mixed up in it somehow. But I am glad you Curlytops are home again. I was getting worried about you. What are you going to do now?" "Teach Jack to jump off a high tower of boxes," explained Ted. "We were getting ready to do that when the Italian took Jack. Come on, Janet, we'll make the box tower." "Me help!" cried Trouble. "Oh, you'll be more bother than you will help," replied Janet. "You'll be knocking the tower over all the while, or trying to climb up on it. You go and play with Skyrocket and Turnover," she advised, as the dog and cat came around the path. "All wite! Me make Turn an' Sky do circus twicks!" said Trouble, talking half to himself. Having made sure that Jack was comfortable and had not been harmed by the Italian who took him away, the Curlytops set about building, of old packing boxes, the tower off which they hoped their monkey would leap, thus doing a new trick for the pet circus. Teddy and Janet were so busy they paid no attention to Trouble, except to notice, now and then, that he was playing at the end of the yard with Skyrocket and Turnover, or "Sky" and "Turn", as he shortened the pets' names. "There, I guess the tower is high enough for the first few jumps," Teddy remarked, as he nailed in place the last of the boxes. "We don't want Jack to jump down from too high a place at first." "No," agreed Janet, "we don't. He might hurt himself, or he might get scared, and then he wouldn't want to be in the circus. But we ought to have some sort of net for him to jump into, didn't we ought, Teddy?" "I guess we did," said the Curlytop boy. "Then we can make the tower higher. Oh, I know what we can have for a net!" he suddenly cried. "What?" asked Janet. Her brother pointed to a clothesline in the yard, across which were drying some lace curtains that had just been washed. "They'll be just dandy for a circus net!" Teddy went on. "You can hold one end, and I'll hold the other. But we won't make the tower any higher for a while. I'll get a curtain for a net." "S'pose mother will mind?" asked Janet. "Oh, no, I don't s'pose so," answered Teddy. "It won't hurt the curtain. Jack isn't so big that he'll tear it, and if it gets dirty, an' maybe it will a little, we can wash it again. You get Jack now, and I'll get the curtain. Then we'll make Jack climb up to the top of the box tower and jump off." "How you going to get him to go up?" asked Janet, when Ted came back with his mother's lace curtain which he had taken off the line. "I'll put a piece of banana up there on the top box," Teddy answered. The pile of boxes, nailed together, was higher than his head, but he had brought out the stepladder so he could reach up with that. "How you going to get Jack to jump down into the lace curtain net?" Janet went on. "I'll hold out another piece of banana," Teddy replied. "Come on here, Jack, and learn a new trick!" he called to the monkey. But just then both Teddy and Janet saw a sight that made them cry out in surprise. And the sight was that of Trouble, coming around the corner of the barn, driving before him Turnover and Skyrocket, the first cat and dog pets the Curlytops had ever owned. But Turnover and Skyrocket had never looked so funny as they did now, with Trouble urging them on and crying: "I dot a new twick! I dot a new twick! Look what me make Turn an' Sky do!" CHAPTER XV PLANNING THE CIRCUS "Well, look what that little tyke has done!" cried Teddy, with a laugh. "All by himself, too!" added Janet. "How did he ever think of it?" "And how he got Turnover and Skyrocket to stand still long enough to be harnessed up is a wonder!" said Teddy. For that is what baby William had done. With bits of string, straps and strips torn from some pieces of cloth he had found in the barn, he had made a crazy jumble of a harness for the dog and the cat. They were tied and fastened together. But this was not all. Besides harnessing the dog and cat together, like a team made up of a big horse and a little pony, Trouble had made the two pets fast to a small express wagon that he claimed as his very own, though it had once belonged to Teddy. "And look what he has in the wagon!" cried Janet, now laughing as heartily as was Teddy. "My old rag doll--Miss Muffin!" In her earlier days Janet had a large rag doll, which had been named Miss Muffin, just why no one knew. But as she grew older and had other dolls, and finally had come to play more with her brother and the pets than with such toys, Janet had forgotten all about Miss Muffin. So the rag doll had been tossed here and there, sometimes in one corner and sometimes in another, getting more ragged, torn and dirty as the weeks went by. But Baby William had found this old doll and had tied it to the little seat in his express wagon. And there sat Miss Muffin, one eye partly scratched off her painted cloth face, and the other eye, by some accident, skewed around until it was standing up and down, and did not lie sideways as most eyes do. "I give Miss Muffin a wide," announced Trouble. "She 'ike it, an' maybe it's a twick for de circus!" Teddy and Janet looked at one another and then they both laughed. "Say, it _would_ be a good trick!" said Teddy at length. "We could dress Trouble up funny like, and have him come in driving Turnover and Skyrocket. The people would clap like anything." "I believe they would," agreed Janet. "Did Turnover scratch you when you tied all those strings on, Trouble?" she asked her little brother. "Nope! Turn, he 'ike it," declared Baby William. "An' Sky, he puts hims tongue on my hands and 'ick me." "I guess he wouldn't have much trouble with Skyrocket," said Teddy. "I've harnessed the dog to little carts before. But I never hitched the dog and cat together. You made a fine trick there, Trouble." "I be in circus?" asked the little fellow. "Sure you may be in the circus," said Janet. "It will be one of the best acts. And we can tie ribbons on the necks of Sky and Turn, as Trouble calls them, to make it look prettier. Go on, Trouble," she said to her little brother, "let's see you drive 'em around the yard. Maybe they'll break away, or get all tangled up, and then it wouldn't be a good act for our show," she said to Teddy. But Trouble seemed to have charmed Skyrocket and Turnover to do just what he wanted them to do, and they walked slowly around the paths in the yard, giving Miss Muffin a fine ride. "Don't keep 'em hitched up too long, Trouble," advised Janet. "If you do they'll get tired, and won't like it next time." "I undwess 'em now," said the little boy. By "undressing" he meant taking the string and strap harness off the dog and cat. Turnover and Skyrocket seemed very glad to be set free, and they ran off together, while Trouble stayed with his brother and sister, as they had told him they were going to make Jack do a trick now. It was time to see if they could get the monkey to do what was wanted of him. The tower of boxes had been built, and Teddy had two bananas, one to get Jack to climb up on top of the pile, and another yellow fruit to induce the monkey to leap down. The lace curtain net had also been provided. "Now, Jack, we'll see what good you are," said Teddy, as he climbed up on the stepladder and placed the banana on the top-most box, letting part of the fruit stick out over the edge. "Here, Jack!" called Teddy, standing half way up the ladder. "Come on and do your trick!" The monkey chattered a little, but came to Teddy, who picked the fuzzy creature up in his arms. Holding Jack up, Teddy showed him the banana on top of the pile of boxes. With another chatter, Jack scrambled out of Teddy's arms, and with the usual quickness of monkeys, was soon on top of the pile of boxes--the "tower" as Ted and Jan called it. When they gave their circus they planned to cover the pile of boxes with green boughs and pretend it was a big tree in the jungle. "Oh, see!" cried Janet in delight, as she saw Jack on top of the pile, eating the banana he found there. "He's done the first part of the trick all right, Teddy!" "Yes, and if he does the last part as well it will be fine!" declared the little Curlytop boy. "But the last is the hardest part. Jack may want to climb down instead of jumping. But first we'll let him eat the banana, and get hungry for the second one." So the three children stood on the ground, and watched Jack, up on the tower, eating his banana. The monkey looked down, making funny faces, which he seemed to be doing most of the time, and Trouble laughed. "He is funny!" laughed Janet. "I'm sure the people who come to our circus will like Jack." "They'll like him a lot more if he does tricks," said Teddy. "Come on, Jan," he called, after a while. "We'll get the net ready now. I guess it's time he jumped for the other banana." Mrs. Martin had not seen the Curlytops take her lace curtain off the line to use for a circus net. If she had, she would, of course, have stopped them. But Teddy and Janet did not think they were doing anything very wrong. As for Trouble, he never bothered his head about it. Whatever Ted or Janet did was all right to him. "If we each have to hold one end of the curtain net, how are we going to hold out the banana so Jack will see it?" asked Janet of her older brother. "We'll lay the banana in the middle of the net," decided Ted. This was done, and when the curtain was held stretched as tightly as Janet and Teddy could pull it, as they had once seen the Cresco firemen stretch out a life-net in a practice drill, the banana was placed in the center. "Come on now, Jack! Jump down!" called Teddy. "Jump down and get your other banana!" Jack chattered, but did not jump. He clung to the edge of the tower of boxes, made two or three motions as if he were coming down, but he did not descend. "I guess he doesn't see the banana," remarked Janet. "One of us ought to hold it up." "We can't, and hold the net too," Teddy declared. "And if we don't hold the net, and Jack jumps, he may hurt himself, and then he can't be in the show." "Oh, I know what we can do!" Janet declared. "What?" asked Teddy. "We can have Trouble hold the banana! Let him stand right near the outside edge of the net, near the middle, and hold up the banana. Then Jack will see it and jump." "That is a good idea," remarked Teddy. He was always willing to give his sister credit for thinking of things to do. "Come on, Trouble," called Teddy to his brother. "Hold the banana up for Jack!" "Eess, me do dat!" replied Baby William, so excited he could hardly talk at all, much less talk properly. Eager to do his share in getting ready for the circus, Trouble held the banana up as high as he could reach, so that Jack could see it. And this time the monkey caught sight of the fruit. With a chatter of delight at the good things he was getting to eat, Jack came down, but not exactly in the way Janet and Teddy wanted him to. For the pet _climbed_ down the boxes, which were of different sizes, making many places where he could hold on by his hands and tail. He didn't jump at all! With a chatter and a scramble, Jack reached the ground, ran around the net to where Trouble stood, and then just reached up, plucked the fruit from the little chap's hand and began to eat it. And it was all done so quickly that Ted and Janet hardly had time to say a word. Finally, however, after laughing at the funny look on Trouble's face when he saw the monkey snatch away the banana, Teddy said: "Oh, Jack! I didn't mean for you to come down that way! I wanted you to jump into the net! Here, you can't have the rest of that banana until you jump for it." Teddy took the fruit away from his fuzzy pet, and Jack jabbered and chattered at the top of his voice, for he did not like this at all. To have a banana taken away when he was just half finished with it! That didn't seem fair! "Come on! We'll try again, Jan," said Teddy, holding the half-eaten yellow fruit out of Jack's reach. For the monkey was jumping up trying to get back the banana. "You'll have to get him up on top of the boxes again," Janet said. "Yes, and I guess I'll have to break off a piece of this banana to get him to go up after it," her brother said. "Come on, Jack!" he cried. Breaking what was left of the banana in half, Teddy once more climbed the step ladder and put the pulpy mass on top of the pile of boxes. Jack saw what was done, and in an instant he had climbed up. "He's learning to go up fine!" declared Teddy, as he got down and moved the ladder away, so Jack would not use that in his descent. "If we can only make him jump now. Get ready, Trouble, to hold up the banana again." "There isn't much left of it," Janet remarked. "It's all there is until we go to the store for more," answered Teddy. "I guess it will do. We'll wait until he swallows what he's eating now, and then Trouble can hold up what is left." Anxiously the Curlytops and their little brother watched Jack perched rather high on the tower of boxes. The monkey made short work of the small piece of banana that had been put on his high perch. Then he looked down for more. "Hold it up, Trouble! Hold it up!" cried Teddy, at one end of the curtain net, while Janet held the other end. "I hold it, but my hoots is gettin' tired," said the little fellow. "Never mind, dear," consoled Janet. "If Jack doesn't jump this time we'll let you go. We can put a stick in the ground near the edge of the net, and tie the banana to that if Trouble is tired," she said to Teddy. "Yes, but it won't be so good as Trouble, 'cause Jack likes him," Teddy answered. "Look out! I think he's going to jump!" And that is just what Jack did! With a chatter of delight as he saw Trouble holding up the piece of fruit, Jack stood for a moment on the edge of the pile of boxes, and then he leaped. Straight down he jumped toward the lace curtain and toward Trouble, who held up the banana. But before the monkey landed there was a scream from the house, and Mrs. Martin came running out. "Don't let Jack jump into my lace curtain! Don't do it, Curlytops!" exclaimed their mother. "He'll tear it to pieces. Stop him!" But it was too late. Jack had jumped! CHAPTER XVI TOP IS GONE Mrs. Martin ran as fast as she could from the back door of the house to that part of the yard where the Curlytops and Trouble were planning and practicing the new circus trick. Ted and Janet heard their mother's cry, and, for the first time, realized that perhaps they had done wrong in taking the lace curtain for a net. And by the time Mrs. Martin reached the place where Trouble was standing, Jack had jumped into the curtain. Right into the middle of it he landed, and you can guess what happened. Yes, Jack tore through, making a big hole in the lace. For it was not strong enough for even a play circus net, and, really, Ted and Janet should have known this. Down through the hole in the curtain fell Jack, but he did not go quite all the way through. That is parts of the torn lace clung to him. In another instant, after landing lightly on the ground, Jack sprang up, grabbed the banana away from Trouble, and then made a flying leap for the nearest tree, trailing the lace curtain after him, dragging it on the ground, catching it on the branches of the tree and tearing it worse than ever. So suddenly did Jack snatch the piece of banana away from Baby William that the little fellow was knocked down, just as Jack, leaping away from the Italian hand-organ man, had knocked Teddy to the sidewalk. "Oh! Oh!" wailed Trouble, and then he began to cry. "Oh, Curlytops! Curlytops! What have you done?" exclaimed Mrs. Martin in dismay. Teddy and Janet could not say a word. They seemed frightened and dazed when Jack, in his wild leap, pulled the curtain from their grasp. "We--we----" began Janet. "Didn't mean to," finished Teddy. And then Jack began to chatter as he tried to tear loose the lace curtain which was tangled all about him as he sat perched in a tree, licking from his paws some bits of crushed banana. With the crying of Trouble, the chatter of the monkey, and Mrs. Martin saying: "Oh dear! Oh dear!" again and again, there was quite a little excitement in the yard of the Curlytops just then. "Poor Trouble!" sighed Janet, as she walked over to her little brother, who was crying and sitting on the ground where Jack had knocked him. "Did the monkey scratch you?" But Trouble was sobbing too hard to answer. "What in the world were you doing?" asked Mrs. Martin, as she picked Trouble up in her arms, and finally made him stop crying. "Why did you take one of my nice curtains?" "We didn't know it was nice," Teddy answered. "And we had to get something for a net to have Jack jump in. I thought it was an old curtain." "It wasn't one of my best ones," said his mother, "still I didn't want it torn. And it is of no use now. Look! All in shreds!" Indeed that was the state of the curtain. For by this time Jack had managed to tear it off him, and it dangled in the tree like the tail of a broken kite. "It will be good for dolls' dresses," said Janet. "And we can make other things to dress the animals up in for the circus." "Oh, you Curlytops!" cried Mrs. Martin, trying not to laugh, for it was all rather funny in spite of the fact that one of her curtains was ruined. "However, it can't be helped," she went on. "Only, next time, come and ask me when you want a circus net." "We will," promised Teddy. "But, anyhow, I guess we have taught Jack his new trick. He jumped like anything, and from the top of the tower, when he saw the banana." "Oh, doesn't he look funny now!" cried Janet, pointing to the monkey, that was now sitting on a box and looking at the children and their mother. "He's got a lace frill on." Part of the torn lace curtain was around Jack's neck, making him, indeed, look as though he wore a fancy collar. "Him's got a bib on!" declared Trouble, now over his fright and crying spell, the first having caused the second. "Him's got a bib on 'ike Trouble when him eats bread and 'ilk." "So he has, dear!" laughed Mrs. Martin. "And I guess Jack would rather be eating bread and milk than doing tricks in this pet show." "Oh, no! He likes the circus! Or he will when we get it started," declared Teddy. "We've got lots to do yet, but I guess we can have it in about two weeks. We'll get Jack to practice his jump some more." "Then we'll need more bananas--he ate the last one," remarked Janet. "And Mr. Nip likes them, too." "We'll get more, but we won't make Jack do any more tricks to-day, Jan," decided Teddy. "Animals get cross if you keep 'em at their tricks too long." "And I think I'll take Trouble into the house. He's had enough excitement for the day," said Mrs. Martin. "Don't take any more of my lace curtains," she added, as she moved toward the house. "We won't," promised the Curlytops. Then they pulled from the tree, where Jack had torn his way out of it, the remainder of the lace curtain they had used for a landing net for the pet monkey. It was two or three days after this, during which time the Curlytops had taught their pets several new little tricks, that their mother called Janet and Teddy to her one afternoon. Mrs. Martin held a letter in her hand, the postman having just left it for her. "Here is something I want to talk to you children about," said their mother. "Oh, is that a letter from Uncle Toby, and is he coming back to take his pets away before we've had the show?" asked Janet. "No, indeed," answered her mother, with a laugh. "We haven't heard from Uncle Toby since he left for South America. I suppose, by this time, he is sitting in the jungle, watching hundreds of parrots and monkeys." "I wish he'd send some more to us!" said Teddy. "Oh, gracious sakes! I don't!" laughed Mrs. Martin. "I think we have quite enough as it is." But of course the Curlytops did not think so. "What I called you for," went on Mrs. Martin, "was to ask if you really intend to go on with this circus of yours. Do you really intend holding it?" "Sure we do, Mother!" Teddy answered. "We're going to have a tent, and seats and everything." "Are you going to charge money for persons to come in?" "Yes," said Janet. "It's to be five cents for big boys and girls, and three cents for little ones like Trouble. Of course Trouble won't have to pay, 'cause he's going to be part of the show. But what is your letter about, Mother?" "It's about your circus," was the answer. "At least now that I know you are really going on with the performance this letter will have something to do with it. This is a note from some ladies who, like me, belong to a charitable society," said Mrs. Martin. "The secretary has just written me, asking if I can not think up some plan to raise money so some poor orphan children may be sent to the country to board for a few weeks this summer." "Oh, can't we help the orphan children, as we helped the crippled children once?" asked Teddy. "Just what I was going to say," went on his mother. "You may take in quite a few dollars giving your animal show, and I can think of no better way of spending it than to give it to the orphans. Besides, if it is known that the circus is for charity, many more people will come than would otherwise. So do you Curlytops want to help the orphans?" "Of course!" said Janet. "Sure!" cried Teddy. "Me help, too! What is it?" asked Trouble, coming up just then. "Oh, you're going to help all right!" laughed Janet. "You're going to drive Turnover and Skyrocket with my old rag doll, Miss Muffin, in the express wagon, and I'm sure you'll be so darling and funny that everyone will laugh." "And I hope Jack does his jumping trick," said Teddy. "It would be great if we had Tip and Top to perform together. We could charge twenty-five cents for big people to come in if we had the two trick dogs." "Well, one is better than none," said Janet. "It's a good thing we have Top." "Yes," agreed Teddy, "I suppose it is. But I wonder where Tip can be?" But of course no one could tell him that. So it was settled that the money that was taken in for the show of the Curlytops and their pets should go to the orphans, so they might have a few weeks in the green country during the hot summer. The Curlytops were much excited that evening, telling their father about the performance for the orphans, and Mr. Martin agreed that no better use could be made of the money. "You must take good care of your pets from now until the time of the show," he said. "Don't let them get away or become ill, or you will not be able to give a good circus." "Let's go out to the barn now, and see if they are all right," proposed Janet. "All right," agreed Teddy. It was early evening, and light enough to see in the barn. Top and Skyrocket barked a welcome, Snuff and Turnover mewed their delight at seeing the children, and while Mr. Nip shrieked away about being a "crack-crack-cracker" Jack chattered. About the only quiet ones were the white rats and mice, and Slider, the alligator. "They're all right, and ready for the circus," said Teddy as he came out and locked the door after him. "Yes, I can hardly wait!" murmured Janet. But in the morning there was bad news for the Curlytops. Their mother, who had gone out to the barn to open the door for the animals, came hurrying back to the house as Teddy and Janet descended for their breakfast. "Where is Top?" asked Mrs. Martin. "Top!" exclaimed Teddy. "Why, isn't he in the barn with Sky and the other pets?" "No," answered his mother, shaking her head. "Top is gone! The barn door was locked, and all the other animals are there, but Top is gone!" CHAPTER XVII THE DOG SHOW Teddy and Janet looked at each other in sorrow and dismay. It seemed that the worst had happened--Top missing just when they were getting ready for the show! First Tip was gone, and now Top! Could it be true? "Are you sure, Mother?" asked Teddy. "Maybe Top is hiding behind a box or something." "Let's go look!" proposed Janet. "Oh, I'm sure he isn't there," said Mrs. Martin. "I called him, as I always do, when I go to let him and Skyrocket out. But Top did not come." "Did Skyrocket?" asked Janet. "Yes, he came rushing out of his kennel, barking and wagging his tail as if he would wag it off. And Snuff came out, and so did Turnover. But there was no Top." Teddy started for the barn on the run, and so did Janet. Their mother followed more slowly. She felt very sorry for her Curlytops, as she knew they would be very sad over the loss of their second pet dog. "The barn door is locked!" said Teddy, as he reached it and tried to go in. "Yes, I locked it after me when I came out," his mother said. "I wanted to make sure that none of the other pets would get away. But the door was locked when I first went in this morning. It was locked just as you left it last night." "Then I don't see how Top could have gotten out," Janet said. "Unless there is some other place open in the barn--like a window," Mrs. Martin suggested. "Let's look!" cried Teddy. His mother turned the key in the padlock on the outside of the barn door. As the door opened and the Curlytops went in, they were greeted by barks of welcome from Skyrocket, by mews from Snuff and Turnover, the cats, by chattering from Mr. Jack, the monkey, and by shrill cries from Mr. Nip, the parrot, who called as loudly as he could: "I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" "They're all here but Top," said Mrs. Martin. And as the Curlytops looked around the barn they saw that this was so. Top was not in sight. "Here, Top! Top! Top!" called Teddy, and he whistled. Mr. Nip also whistled, as loudly and clearly as the little boy himself. But there was no answer from his pet trick dog. Janet ran over and looked in the box where Top always slept on a piece of carpet. The box was empty. "Where do you s'pose he can be?" she asked her mother. "That's what we must find out," was Mrs. Martin's answer. "We must look all through the barn. There are several places where he may have gotten out--or been taken out," she added a moment later. It was Teddy who finally discovered the open window by which it was thought someone had entered the barn and taken Top out. The window was near the stalls used by the horses before Mr. Martin bought an automobile. In a corner, at the left of the stalls and too high from the floor of the barn for Top to have reached, even in his best jump, was a swinging window. This was open, as Teddy found, and when his mother and Janet came at his call, Mrs. Martin saw that the bolt had been broken. "That is how it happened," she said. "Someone opened that window from the outside last night, crawled in, and took Top away. The dog himself could not have gotten out of that high window. Someone must have taken him." "But wouldn't he bark and bite them?" asked Janet. "Top was too friendly to bite anyone unless they harmed him," said her mother. "And I have no doubt but that this man--it must have been a man or a big boy--knew how to be nice to Top. Maybe they gave him a little piece of meat to chew on while they took him away." "Oh dear!" sighed Janet. "How shall we ever get him back?" "I'll call your father, and ask him what to do," remarked Mrs. Martin. "This is getting serious! Two of Uncle Toby's best pets gone! If he comes back he will think we did not take very good care of his animals." "It wasn't our fault that a burglar came and took Top," said Teddy. "No, dear," answered his mother. "But we must do what we can to get the dog back. I'll call your father." Mr. Martin came quickly when he heard what had happened. He went to the barn to look, and he agreed with his wife that, during the night, someone had broken open the barn window, had crawled in, and had taken out Top. "But why didn't they take Jack or Mr. Nip or Slider?" asked Teddy. "All our pets are nice. Why didn't they take more?" "Maybe they didn't have time, or perhaps they were frightened away, or they may have wanted only Top," said Mr. Martin. "I think that last is the real reason. A trick poodle, like Top, is valuable. And if he could be placed in a show with his chum Tip, the two would earn a lot of money for whoever had them." "Then," said Teddy, "we've got to find out who has Tip, and maybe then we'll get back Top." "Yes," agreed his father, "but it isn't going to be easy. I'll report it to the police and also to the police of that town where Tip was taken." "We can't have much of a show with Tip and Top gone," said Janet sadly. "Well, not so very," answered Teddy, trying to make the best of it. "But if we don't get Top back we still have some pets left. The only thing is that Skyrocket has learned to do some tricks with Top, and if Top doesn't come back Sky can't do those tricks. Oh dear, I wish I knew who had our two trick poodles!" "So do I!" chimed in Janet. Mr. Martin called up the Cresco police and told them of the theft. Word was also sent to the town where the Curlytops had stopped for lunch the day they had brought home Uncle Toby's pets, when "Shorty" had been left on guard. After that there was nothing to do but wait, though Ted and Jan wanted to go around among their friends, asking if, by chance, any of them had seen Top. And after breakfast their mother allowed them to do this. To house after house of their friends and neighbors went the two Curlytops, telling the story of the theft of Top, and asking if anyone had seen him. But it was a hopeless search, as Mrs. Martin knew it would be. For whoever had taken Top, she felt sure, would hide him away, and not let him be seen in or about Cresco, where the pet animal was well known. "What's the matter, Curlytops?" asked Policeman Cassidy, as he saw Teddy and Janet going along the street one day, having called at several houses, without getting any word about Top. "What's the matter? Can't you have the circus you were counting on?" "We can't have it as nice as we want it with Top gone," answered Teddy, and then he explained about the theft, of which the policeman had not heard, having been away on his vacation. "We've been looking all over for Top," added Janet, when her brother had finished, "but we can't find him." "You aren't looking in the right places," said the policeman. "You won't find him at the houses of any of your friends. If he was there he'd run back to you as soon as he got outside. Where you want to look is in some dog show." "Dog show?" exclaimed Teddy. "Yes," went on Mr. Cassidy. "I've heard about stolen dogs before. They are taken by men who want to make money. And since Top was a trick dog, as well as Tip, I'm sure someone has them who would put them in a show. So look for a dog show, and when you find it go in and look at the dogs. That's where you'll find Top, and maybe Tip, too. It's in a dog show you should be looking!" "Yes," agreed Teddy, after thinking the matter over, "I guess we should. Thank you, Mr. Cassidy. Come on, Jan, we'll look for a dog show. Do you think there's one in Cresco, Mr. Cassidy?" "None that I've heard of," the officer answered. "You'll see bill posters, and advertisements on the fences when there's a dog show around. Look for a dog show, and maybe you'll find your pets." The Curlytops thanked him again, and walked off down the street together, filled with a new idea. Eagerly they scanned the walls and fences, seeking for some poster that would tell of a show. And it was not long before they saw just what they were looking for. "See!" cried Janet, pointing to a red and black poster on a fence. "That tells of a show, Ted." "Yes," agreed her brother, "so it does. But it's over in Canfield." The advertisement told of "Professor Montelli's" wonderful collection of trained and trick dogs. A show would be given every afternoon and evening, the bill said, and, as Teddy had remarked, it was over in the neighboring town of Canfield. "Maybe Tip would be there," suggested Janet, as she and her brother looked at the poster. "And Top," added Ted. "Let's go!" suddenly cried Janet. "I've got most of my allowance that daddy gave me. We can go on the trolley. It isn't far!" Teddy thought it over for a moment. Then he made up his mind. "All right!" he said. "Let's go to the dog show!" CHAPTER XVIII THE BLACK POODLES Once they were in the trolley, going to Canfield, the two Curlytops felt quite happy. They were happy for one reason, because they were having a ride. Teddy and Janet always liked to be doing things and going somewhere, and this was one of those times. And they were happy for another reason, because they felt sure they would find Top, and perhaps Tip. Who knew? Policeman Cassidy had said the most likely place to find the missing poodles would be in a dog show. And they were going to a dog show. "Do you s'pose mother will mind?" asked Janet of Ted, after they had ridden for a little way in the trolley. "Oh, I don't guess so," he answered. "We'll soon be back, for it isn't very far to Canfield, and she said we could go out and hunt for Top." "But maybe she didn't mean we were to go so far, and on a trolley." "She didn't tell us _not_ to!" declared Teddy. "All right," went on Janet. "We're going, anyhow." "Whereabout in Canfield do you--you Curlytops want to get out?" asked the trolley-car conductor. "Oh, do you know us?" asked Janet, for the conductor had called the little boy and girl by the name so often given them. "Well, I don't exactly know you," he answered. "But I would call you Curlytops if you were my children. For the tops of your heads are curly," he added with a laugh. "Everybody calls us Curlytops," said Teddy. "And could you please let us out near the dog show?" "The dog show," repeated the conductor, wonderingly. "This one," went on Ted, taking from his pocket a hand bill of "Professor Montelli's Wondrous Aggregation of Canine Cut-ups." Teddy had found the bill in the street. "Oh, that show!" exclaimed the conductor, with a laugh. "Why, that's only a little side-show in a tent near where this car runs. I'll let you get off there if you want to, but it isn't much of a show. It isn't a circus, you know," he said, as he started the car again, after a very fat lady had gotten off. "If you're looking for a circus this isn't it. The dog show is only a little side one--the kind they used to charge ten cents to go in and see after or before the regular circus. I hope you Curlytops aren't running away to see a circus," he added doubtfully. "Oh, no, sir!" exclaimed Janet. "We're looking for our lost dog, and we thought maybe it was with this show. Two dogs we had, Tip and Top," she went on. "They were white poodles and they belonged to Uncle Toby and they could do tricks. But one was stolen when we were bringing them home, and the other night Top was taken from our barn. It's our dogs we're looking for, not a circus." "Besides, we're going to have a circus of our own," added Teddy. "That is, we are if we get Tip and Top back." "Do you think your dogs ran off to join a show?" the conductor asked. "Oh, no!" answered Teddy. "They were taken away. But Mr. Cassidy--he's a policeman--said the right place to look for our dogs was in a dog show, so we're looking." "Well, this Professor Montelli, as he calls himself, has a dog show near the end of my trolley line," said the conductor. "I don't know much about it, as it only came there yesterday. It's in a little tent--a regular side show. I'll put you off near it. But do you think it will be safe for you to go there alone and ask for your lost dogs?" "Oh, we won't go right in and ask for them," explained Teddy. He and his sister had talked it over, and they had made up their minds what they would do. "We'll just go into the show--'cause we have money to pay for our tickets," the Curlytop boy explained. "Then if we see Tip and Top there we'll take 'em right away." "That's what we will!" declared Janet. "And if that show man won't give our dogs to us we'll call a policeman." "Well, I guess you Curlytops can take care of yourselves," laughed the conductor. "You get off three blocks from here, and then you'll be right near the dog show. Good luck to you!" "Thank you," replied Teddy and Janet. They saw the tent--a small one with a few flags on it--almost as soon as they alighted from the trolley car. It was about three o'clock, and a crowd about the tent showed that the performance was going on, or would soon start. Professor Montelli's name was painted on a strip of canvas over the entrance to the tent, and on either side were painted pictures of dogs doing all sorts of queer tricks. One picture was that of a dog jumping off a high platform into a tank of water. "Oh, if we could only make our monkey Jack do a trick like that!" whispered Janet to Teddy. "Maybe we can," he whispered back, as they walked up to the tent. "But monkeys don't like water, I guess. We might get Skyrocket to do the jump. We'll try. But now let's see if Tip or Top are here in this show." A man standing in a booth outside the tent was calling out in a loud voice: "Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! Step right up, boys and girls! The big show is about to begin!" He ruffled a bundle of red tickets in his hand and went on: "Pay your dime and step right up. You'll see the world-famed aggregation of canine cut-ups! The funniest dogs you ever saw doing the funniest tricks! There are hound dogs, bulldogs, setter dogs, fox terriers, big dogs, little dogs, all good dogs, and some poodle dogs!" Ted and Janet looked at each other. "Poodles!" whispered the Curlytops. Tip and Top were white poodles! "Come on! Let's go in!" said Teddy boldly. He stepped up to the booth, bought two tickets, and he and Janet went into the tent. At one end was a raised platform, hung about with red cloth. On the platform were some chairs, a table, some pedestals, some paper-covered hoops and other things used in the dog tricks. There were also some board benches, like circus seats, in the tent. "Come on up front, where we can see the dogs better," said Ted to his sister. "If we see Tip or Top we'll call them right down to us off the platform." There were as yet not many persons in the tent, and the Curlytops had no trouble getting front seats. Then they anxiously waited for the performance to begin, which it did in a little while. Out on the platform came a man with a very black moustache and a little whip. The moustache was under his nose and the whip in his hands. He looked around at the audience, and then in a sing-song voice said: "Ladies an' gen'men: With your kind attention an' permission I will now show you what my dogs can do. Let 'em on, Jack," he called to someone back of the platform. A moment later about ten dogs rushed up on the platform, barking and wagging their tails. Every one of the dogs looked anxiously at the black-eyed and black-moustached man, as if afraid he would hit them with the whip he carried. Each dog seemed to know his or her place, and went to chair, box, or platform, until all were arranged in a half circle back of the man. "First Lulu, the highest jumper in the world, will perform some tricks," said Professor Montelli. "Here, Lulu," he called, and a long, thin greyhound leaped from a chair and stood ready. This dog jumped over a pile of high baskets, and through some of them, there being no bottoms to them. Then the greyhound leaped over a high pile of chairs. In turn the other dogs did tricks, some of which the Curlytops had seen before, and some of which were new. They quite enjoyed the show, or they would have done so had they not been worrying about getting their own dogs back. They looked anxiously at the dogs on the platform. None of them was Tip or Top. I shall not tell you all about the tricks the dogs in this show did, for I want to tell you about the circus the Curlytops had. Enough to say that Professor Montelli seemed to know a great deal about dogs, though I can not say the trick animals loved him. They seemed more afraid than anything else. "Well, I guess we shan't find Tip or Top here," said Ted to Janet after a while. "There aren't any white poodles like ours." "No, I guess not," sadly agreed the little girl. But just then Professor Montelli stepped to the edge of the platform and said: "This ends our regular performance, ladies an' gen'men, but I have two more dogs to show you. I have not finished training them yet, an' they can do only a few tricks, but I want you to be satisfied, an' think that you got your money's worth, so you will recommend my show to your friends. I will now show you two more trick dogs. Bring on the poodles, Jack," he called to his assistant. Ted and Janet looked at each other, quickly. "Poodles!" they murmured, but they did not speak out loud. The same thought was in each of their minds. If the poodles should be Tip and Top! A barking was heard back of the platform, and, a moment later, on rushed two dogs, exactly the same kind of poodles as were Tip and Top, and exactly the same size. But alas! Tip and Top were white, while these poodles were jet black! CHAPTER XIX A HAPPY REUNION The hearts of the Curlytops had beaten high with hope when they heard Professor Montelli speak of some poodles. But when they saw that the two dogs were black, instead of white, their hearts sank. "They look just like Tip and Top, but of course they can't be," whispered Janet, as the showman began clearing the stage platform in readiness for the poodles to do some tricks. "No," answered Ted, in disappointed tones, "Tip and Top were white--not black, except for little spots. These dogs are black all over. We might as well go home. Maybe Policeman Cassidy knows of another dog show." "Oh, let's stay and see just one poodle trick," begged Janet. "All right," agreed Teddy. So the Curlytops remained in their seats, with the others of the audience. The two black poodles barked, wagged their tails, and looked at Professor Montelli. "Come on now, King! Turn a somersault!" suddenly cried the dark-moustached man. Instantly one of the black poodles--the one called "King," began turning somersault after somersault. Right out to the end of the platform he turned them, and then he stood there, wagging his tail and waiting for the applause, which he seemed to expect. And the people did clap. They liked the poodle's trick. Janet leaned over and whispered to Teddy: "That's just the same trick Tip did!" "Yes," agreed the Curlytop boy. "But it can't be Tip." "No, I s'pose not," sighed Janet. "Come back here, King," suddenly called the trainer. "Now, Emperor," he went on, pointing his whip at the other poodle. "It is your turn. Walk on your hind legs!" The other dog did not seem to understand. It slunk away and growled a little. "Here! None of that!" cried the trainer. "You must do as I say! Walk on your hind legs!" Still the dog would not mind. "Emperor is not so good a dog as King," said the man, apologizing to the audience. "I have not had him so long, and he does not do his tricks very well. But I will make him!" Suddenly he flicked the dog he called "Emperor" with the whip! The dog let out a howl of pain. "Here! Stop that!" cried Teddy, almost before he knew what he was saying. "Yes, don't hurt the dogs," added a lady, looking kindly at the Curlytops. "The little boy is right." "I did not mean to hurt him," explained Professor Montelli, smiling, but his smile was not a kind one. He seemed to be a cruel man, but he seemed to know that he must not be cruel to his dogs in public. "Come, Emperor!" he called more gently. "Walk on your hind legs!" This time the black poodle did so, walking around the stage. Again Janet leaned over and whispered to her brother: "Top used to do that same trick!" "Yes," agreed Teddy. "That's right." And then a strange thing happened. All at once the two poodles put their noses together, as though talking, which they may have been doing in dog language. And then the one the man had called Emperor suddenly jumped on top of the back of the dog called King, and King began walking around the stage, giving the other a ride! The people clapped at this trick, and the two Curlytops grew strangely excited. Ted and Janet looked at each other, standing up in their seats. "Ted, do you know what I think?" said his sister. "I think those two dogs are really Tip and Top--our poodles! That's exactly the same trick they did in Uncle Toby's house." "But how could they be Tip and Top when they're black, and Tip and Top were white?" asked Teddy. "I don't know," Janet answered. "But I'm sure they are our dogs. Maybe they've been in the coal bin and got all black. And, oh, Ted! Look!" Something else happening on the platform of the dog show tent. The black poodle called King began walking around in a little circle in the middle of the stage. And, while thus moving, the other poodle began to jump over its companion's back. First this way and then that one poodle jumped over the other poodle's back. "Why! Why!" cried Teddy. "That's the other trick we saw them do, Janet! That's the trick Mrs. Watson said Uncle Toby taught them--I mean taught Tip and Top." "Yes," agreed Janet. "And I know these dogs are our poodles--I don't care if they are black!" Then, before Ted could stop her, she called: "Here, Tip! Here, Top! Come on!" Instantly the two black poodles jumped down off the stage, and with barks of joy, and mad waggings of their little tails, ran to the Curlytops. "Oh, Top!" cried Janet, as she patted his head, "I'm so glad we found you! I'd know you anywhere, even if you are black!" Both dogs knew the children, though of course Top, having been with them longer, knew them best. Tip had been taken away soon after being removed from Uncle Toby's house, but when Tip saw that Top was friendly with the children, Tip was joyful also. I call the black dogs Tip and Top, for they were really the missing poodles, and I will explain how it was their color was changed. No sooner did Ted and Janet call the black poodles to them than Professor Montelli grew very angry indeed. He jumped down off the platform, and, going to where the Curlytops stood at their seats, with the dogs frisking around them, the trainer cried: "Here! What do you mean by calling my dogs away when I am making them do tricks? What do you children mean?" "These aren't your dogs--they're _ours_!" declared Ted. "Yours! Nonsense!" blustered the trainer. "These are my dogs. I have had them a long while!" "Not both of them!" said Janet, who remembered what the man had said. "You told us you hadn't had Emperor very long." "Well, I have the other! They are both my dogs!" cried the angry man. "If you have lost any dogs you had better look somewhere for them. Get out of my tent and give me back the poodles!" He made a move to thrust Ted and Janet to one side and pick up the poodles, but a man in the audience said: "Not so fast, Professor. It seems to me that by the way these dogs came to this girl and boy when called that there may be something in their claim. Did you lose two dogs?" he asked Ted and Janet. "Yes, sir," they answered. And then Ted told how Tip was taken out of their automobile some weeks before, while Top was stolen from their barn a night or two previous. "Nonsense! As if I had their dogs!" sneered the trainer. "What kind of poodles did you lose, as you say?" he asked. "Just exactly the same kind as these, and they did the same tricks," Ted answered. "We can make these do the same tricks you did, and some more, too," he added. "I don't believe it!" growled the trainer. "Let's show 'em, Ted!" cried Janet. And then and there, down on the ground in the tent, while the crowd looked on, the Curlytops put the two black poodles through the tricks Tip and Top used to do. "It begins to look as though there was something in their claim," said the man who had acted as the friend of Ted and Janet. "Those are my dogs!" declared the Professor, getting more and more angry. "Tell me--what color were the poodles you had?" he asked Janet and Ted. "Well," Ted answered slowly, "Tip and Top were white, except Tip had a little black spot on the end of his tail, and Top had a black spot on his head--on the top." "There! What did I tell you?" cried the Professor. "Their poodles were _white_ and mine are _black_! They can't be the same! Here, King and Emperor!" he cried, and, stooping down he made a grab for the little dogs that were staying near Ted and Janet. With barks and growls the poodles sprang away from the angry man. And, as it happened, the one the man had called "King" ran against a pail of water that was near the bottom of the platform. The pail was upset and some of the water splashed over the black dog. Then a queer change took place. Instead of being pure black, the poodle became streaked black and white! The black color began running out of its hair, and formed a little inky pool on the ground beneath the animal. "Look! Look!" cried Janet, pointing. "Those dogs were _colored_ black--they're white poodles dyed black!" cried the man who had taken the part of the Curlytops. "Now what have you to say?" he asked the animal trainer. "Well--er--those dogs are mine! I don't know who stained 'em black. But I bought 'em of a young man----" "Was his name Shorty?" asked Ted. "Well, maybe it was," admitted the showman. "What has that got to do with it? Those are my dogs!" "They're ours!" insisted Ted. "Shorty was watching our auto when Tip was stolen," he went on, "and he knew where we were taking Top. I guess Shorty broke into our barn the other night, and took Top and colored him black. These are our poodles, and we're going to have them!" "It looks as though they had you, Professor," said the kind man. "And we're going to get a policeman!" added Janet. "Oh, well, if you're sure they are your dogs, take 'em!" growled the showman. "I didn't know they were stolen. A young fellow sold me one some time ago, and I bought the other of him day before yesterday. I did color the dogs black," he admitted, "because they don't get so dirty as white ones. The dye will wash off," he said. "If you are sure these are your poodles, take 'em along!" he said to Ted and Janet. "Oh, we're sure all right!" cried Janet. And then she took Top up in her arms, while Teddy carried the partly black and partly white Tip out of the tent, while the audience laughed and some clapped. "The show's over!" growled the black-moustached man. "And if I get hold of that Shorty I'll have him arrested for selling me stolen dogs. They were valuable, too--as good trick dogs as I ever saw. Do you want to sell them to me?" he asked the Curlytops. "No, sir!" cried Teddy and Janet as they hurried out of the tent. "We're going to have a circus of our own with 'em!" And, happy and joyful, with the delighted Tip and Top in their arms, the Curlytops started for home. CHAPTER XX THE CURLYTOPS' CIRCUS Hurrying along, as if afraid that Professor Montelli might run after them and take Tip and Top away again, Teddy and Janet went to the corner where they had left the trolley car. Some boys and girls who had been in the dog show followed the Curlytops, and men and women smiled at the children. "Here comes a car!" cried Ted, as he saw one approaching. "Have we got enough money left to take us home, Jan?" he asked, for his sister had the cash. "I guess so," she answered. "If we haven't we'll ask the conductor please to charge it." The car stopped and with Janet holding Top and Ted with Tip in his arms, the children got aboard. "Well, I see you got your dogs back," came a voice, and, looking up, the Curlytops saw the same conductor they had ridden out with from Cresco. "I didn't think I'd have you back with me so soon," he said. "But I'm glad to see you. It's sort of against the rules to bring dogs on trolley cars, but I guess yours will be all right, as long as they're trick circus dogs." "Shall we make 'em do some tricks for you?" asked Teddy, as he and his sister took their seats. "Well, not now, thank you," the conductor answered, with a smile as the car started off, leaving behind the curious crowd. "I'll soon be so busy collecting fares that I won't have time to watch." "Then we'll send you a ticket to our circus," promised Janet, "'cause you were so kind to us." "Thank you," replied the conductor. "I shall be glad to come. You can take my name and mail the ticket to me at the car house. I like animals," and he patted the heads of Tip and Top. "But what makes one black, and the other streaked black and white?" he asked. "They're colored, but it will wash off," answered Ted. "The Professor, or maybe Shorty, dyed our white poodles black." You can imagine how surprised Mr. and Mrs. Martin were when Ted and Janet came in with the lost dogs--one black and the other white and black. "I was just going to telephone to the police and have them start to look for you!" cried their mother. "I was worried. Where have you been?" "To a dog show, where we found Tip and Top," said Janet. Then they told the whole story, and Mr. and Mrs. Martin were much surprised at what the Curlytops had done. "As it was, you did just the right thing," said their father. "Though I wouldn't like to have you do it again. However, I'm glad you have your pets back, though Tip isn't exactly a beauty." "They'll be all right after they have had a bath," said Janet. And the poodles were, coming from the tub as white as snow. Later it was learned that the young man known as Shorty had not really taken Tip from the automobile. But he had gotten a chum of his to do it, and afterward the two had sold the dog. They sold him to Professor Montelli, who used to have a side show with a circus, but who, after a quarrel, started out for himself, traveling around the country giving exhibitions. Shorty, having heard the talk of the Martin family while he was acting as guard of the automobile load of pets, knew where Top was being taken, to Cresco. And it was he who broke into the barn and took away the poodle. For, as I have told you, while one dog was valuable for the tricks he could do, the two, doing tricks together, were worth much more. Professor Montelli may not have known the poodles were stolen, and he may, as he said, have dyed them with harmless black color to keep their white coats from getting dirty. But the police said they thought the dog trainer had a hand, with Shorty, in the thefts, and this may have been so. At any rate the Curlytops had their pet poodles back, and they heard nothing more of Shorty or the showman. "And now we can give our circus!" cried Janet one afternoon, when she and Teddy, with Trouble, were feeding their pets in the barn. It did not take long to make arrangements for the show. Jimmy Norton's father secured a large tent for the Curlytops and their friends, and the tent was set up in a lot not far from the Martin house. Several boys and girls helped make the arrangements, and Mr. Martin sent up from the store a pile of boxes and boards which some of his men made into seats. Mrs. Martin told the ladies who had asked her to help raise money for the orphans that the Curlytops were going to give all they took in at the circus to help the poor children. And when this became known many grown folk, as well as boys and girls, bought tickets for the performance. It was to be given one afternoon, and you can imagine all the work that had to be done to get ready. But some of the fathers and mothers of the chums of the Curlytops helped, leaving to Ted and Janet the work of getting the animals ready to do their tricks. Jack Turton was to be a fat little clown, riding on a pony his father had bought for him. Harry Kent and some other boys were to help Teddy, and some of Jan's girl friends offered to help her. And we must not forget Trouble. As arranged, he was to come into the tent at a certain time, driving Skyrocket, the dog, and Turnover, the cat, hitched to his little express wagon, with funny Miss Muffin on the seat. At last the day of the circus came. Into the tent were moved the cages of the white mice and the white rats, the tank containing Slider, the pet alligator, the cage of Mr. Nip, the parrot, and the box of Jack, the monkey. Snuff, Skyrocket and Turnover were on hand. Tip and Top were all ready to perform their tricks. "Do you think we'll have a big crowd?" asked Janet of Ted, when everything was arranged and it was almost time for the show to begin. "Sure we will!" he answered. "Everybody I met is coming--all the fellows and girls and a lot of men and women. We'll make a lot of money for the orphans." "I wish Uncle Toby could be here to see it all," went on Janet, as she took a last look inside the tent to make sure everything was in order "He'd be surprised at some of the things his pets can do." "Yes, I wish Uncle Toby could be here," said her brother. "It's queer about him. He never answered any of daddy's letters. South America must be a good way off, for Uncle Toby hasn't gotten there yet." "Well," began Ted. "I guess----" and then Harry Kent called: "Hey, Ted! You'd better look at Slider! He's trying to crawl out of his tank." "It isn't time for him to start his act yet!" answered the Curlytop boy. "I'll have to give him a bit of meat to quiet him!" And a little while after that the audience began to enter the tent. Boys and girls, of course, were the first, but there were a number of men and women, too, and it was not long before every seat was taken. Mr. and Mrs. Martin just had to be there--they couldn't stay away when the Curlytops were giving a show. Besides, Mother Martin had to help Trouble dress for his act. "Oh, we're going to have a big crowd!" said Janet excitedly to Teddy, in the little dressing room behind the stage. There was a stage almost like the one Professor Montelli had in his dog show. "You better go out and make your talk now," went on Janet to her brother. "The tent won't hold many more, and we want to start." "All right," agreed Teddy. It had been decided that he was to make a little speech of welcome. Soon he was out in front, bowing as he did when he "spoke a piece" in school. "Ladies and gentlemen," began Teddy, "and boys and girls. We're glad you came to our circus, and we hope you will like our pets and what they do. And my little brother, Trouble, is going to do an act by himself. He----" "Here I is!" suddenly cried Trouble, coming out behind Teddy. "I do my act now!" "No! No!" said Teddy, while the audience laughed. For Trouble was only half dressed, having rushed out of the room back of the stage when he heard his name mentioned. "Here, William! Come back and let me finish!" said his mother, and she reached out her hand and pulled Trouble back to her. "Now the show will start," Teddy finished, amid laughter. The first act was a tableau with Ted, Janet and their boy and girl helpers, not forgetting Trouble, of course, posing on the stage with their pets. Gathered about the children were the dogs, the cats, Mr. Nip, the parrot, Jack the monkey, the white mice and the white rats in cages, and Slider, the pet alligator. Down in the audience Harry Weldon played the mouth organ. He was the "orchestra." No sooner had Harry started to play than Tip, Top and Skyrocket barked, the cats mewed, the monkey chattered and Mr. Nip cried: "I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" You should have heard the audience clap then! One after another the animals did their tricks, Ted, Janet and the other boys and girls helping. Mr. Nip, the parrot, after he had been quieted down, walked up and down a little ladder, that was balanced like a see-saw over a tiny board. Mr. Nip would walk to one end of the ladder, and it would go down with him. Then he would walk to the other end, which would then sway downward. And when he had finished this trick Mr. Nip cried: "Help! Fire! Police!" and flew over on Janet's shoulder. "He's as good as a watch dog, that parrot is," said Policeman Cassidy, who had come to the show, as had also the kind trolley car conductor. "He's a regular burglar alarm, he is!" Snuff and Turnover did their tricks, some separately and some together. One of the tricks they did together was to run and jump through a paper hoop, and when Turnover had landed on the other side, through the hoop, he lay down and rolled over and over--one of the first tricks the Curlytops had taught their pet. Again the audience clapped and laughed. But there was more to come. Tip and Top did the tricks for which they were famous, separately and together, one dog walking on his hind legs, and the other turning somersaults. Then one dog got on the other's back, the two going around the stage together. And as a climax they did the trick by which Ted and Janet had recognized their pets in Professor Montelli's tent, one dog leaping over the other's back, while moving along. "Now, Jan, you do your trick with the white mice and the alligator while Harry Kent and I fix up the tower for Jack to jump from," said Ted. "And Jack can do his clown tricks, too." It had been decided that while Teddy and his helper were putting in place the tower for the monkey to leap from something must be done to amuse the audience. So Janet had said she would do some little tricks with the mice, rats, and alligator, while Harry, the fat little boy clown, would turn somersaults and handsprings on the stage. This went off very well. Janet fixed the slanting board for Slider to coast "down hill," and when the alligator had done this the audience laughed its hardest. Then some of the rats and mice did simple tricks, two of the larger rats pulling a little toy wagon in which rode two mice. However, these pets did not do as well as the others, for the two in the wagon kept jumping out and Janet had to keep putting them back. Jack, the fat little clown, made a big "hit." He was really very funny, and when, toward the end of his act, he got too near the edge of the stage and fell into the lap of big Oscar North, the audience thought it was all part of the show, and not an accident, and clapped most loudly. However, Jack was not hurt, and only laughed at the mishap. By this time the tower was ready. It reached nearly to the top of the tent, and as the boxes had been covered with green branches they made a nice appearance. "Up, Jack! Up!" called Ted, climbing up the stepladder and placing the banana on top of the tower. Then Ted had to hurry the ladder away, after Jack had climbed up to the top, for fear the monkey would climb down that same way instead of jumping as he was wanted to do. Ted and Harry Kent held the net at the foot of the tower. This time the net was not a lace curtain, but some old bags sewed together. Janet held up the bit of banana, and, after he had eaten the piece on top of his perch, the monkey looked down at the other bit of fruit. "Come on, Jack! Jump!" cried Teddy. And to the delight of the Curlytops, Jack jumped his very best, landing in the net and bouncing up and down. "Good trick! Good trick!" cried the trolley car conductor, clapping the loudest of all. After that Jack did a number of other simple tricks, and then it was time for Trouble to come on in his act. Only a few knew what the little fellow was to do. But when the curtains on the stage were pulled apart by Mrs. Martin and the little fellow walked out, dressed like the pictures of Cupid on valentines, driving the dog and cat harnessed to the wagon, with queer Miss Muffin on the seat, you should have heard the people laugh and clap! "Didap! Didap!" cried Trouble to his dog and cat team. "Didap an' go fast!" Around the stage went Skyrocket and Turnover, behaving very nicely; and when he had made one round Trouble stood in the middle of the stage and made a low bow, as his mother had taught him to do. "He's a cute little chap!" said Policeman Cassidy. And then came the last scene of all, where Ted, Janet, Trouble and their boy and girl helpers, with all the pets, except the parrot, alligator and rats and mice, marched around the stage, while the mouth organ was loudly played. "That's the end of the show! Much obliged to you all for coming!" called out Teddy. "And let's see how much we made for the orphans!" exclaimed Janet, before any of the audience had a chance to leave. There was a laugh at this. "You did very well, Curlytops, and Trouble also," said Mrs. Martin, as the children began to take off their costumes, for they had all dressed especially for the occasion. "I never thought the pets would act so well," added Mr. Martin. "And did we make much money?" Janet wanted to know. Mr. Martin was counting it. As he dropped the last penny back into the cash box he announced: "It is ninety-nine dollars and one cent." "Well, here's ninety-nine cents to make it an even hundred dollars!" cried a jolly voice at the tent entrance, and in walked a man who seemed to be a stranger. But at the second look Mr. Martin cried: "Uncle Toby!" "Yes, Uncle Toby!" laughed the man. "I got here a little too late for the show, but you can give it over again for me, and I'll put as much again in the collection box as you have there. How are all my pets?" and he laughed again and looked at the Curlytops as well as at the animals. "We're well, thank you," said Janet, shyly. "And Tip and Top were taken away but we got them back," added Ted. "An' Mr. Nip he catch a bu'glar!" lisped Trouble. "My! My! There must have been a lot of excitement while I have been gone!" laughed Uncle Toby, for it was, indeed, he. "When did you get back from South America?" asked Mr. Martin. "I didn't go," answered Uncle Toby. "I got all ready to go, but changed my mind and went to Canada instead. I'm going back to live in my old house." "And will you--will you take your pets?" asked Teddy. "Well, not right away," answered Uncle Toby. "You may keep them as long as you like. I wish I had been here for the show, but here's the ninety-nine cents I promised, and if you give the show for me later on I'll give a hundred dollars for the orphans." "Oh, how lovely!" cried Janet. "Let's start and give it now!" It was, however, a little too late in the day for that. But, a week later, Uncle Toby did see all the pets put through their tricks and he gave another hundred to the orphan fund, so that many of the poor children had a fine vacation time in the country. "Well, we certainly had a lot of fun with all the animals," said Janet one day, when she and Teddy were playing out under the trees with the dogs and the cats. "Yes," he agreed, "we did. We had as much fun this summer as if we had gone away. And I wonder what we can do next?" "Oh, something, I guess," said Janet. "What I'm going to do now is go in and get something to eat." "I'm a crack-crack-cracker!" shrieked Mr. Nip from his perch. "Well, I want something more than crackers!" laughed Janet. "So do I!" agreed Teddy. "We'll get some bread and jam and also feed our pets. I guess they're hungry, too." And while the Curlytops are thus engaged we will say good-bye to Janet, Teddy and Trouble. THE END THE CURLYTOPS SERIES By HOWARD R. GARIS _12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors Price per volume, 50 cents. Postage 10 cents additional._ [Illustration] =THE CURLYTOPS AT CHERRY FARM= _or Vacation Days in the Country_ A tale of happy vacation days on a farm. =2. THE CURLYTOPS ON STAR ISLAND= _or Camping Out with Grandpa_ The Curlytops camp on Star Island. =3. THE CURLYTOPS SNOWED IN= _or Grand Fun with Skates and Sleds_ The Curlytops on lakes and hills. =4. THE CURLYTOPS AT UNCLE FRANK'S RANCH= _or Little Folks on Ponyback_ Out West on their uncle's ranch they have a wonderful time. =5. THE CURLYTOPS AT SILVER LAKE= _or On the Water with Uncle Ben_ The Curlytops camp out on the shores of a beautiful lake. =6. THE CURLYTOPS AND THEIR PETS= _or Uncle Toby's Strange Collection_ An old uncle leaves them to care for his collection of pets. =7. THE CURLYTOPS AND THEIR PLAYMATES= _or Jolly Times Through the Holidays_ They have great times with their uncle's collection of animals. =8. THE CURLYTOPS IN THE WOODS= _or Fun at the Lumber Camp_ Exciting times in the forest for Curlytops. =9. THE CURLYTOPS AT SUNSET BEACH= _or What Was Found in the Sand_ The Curlytops have a fine time at the seashore. =10. THE CURLYTOPS TOURING AROUND= _or The Missing Photograph Albums_ The Curlytops get in some moving pictures. =11. THE CURLYTOPS IN A SUMMER CAMP= _or Animal Joe's Menagerie_ There is great excitement as some mischievous monkeys break out of Animal Joe's Menagerie. =12. THE CURLYTOPS GROWING UP= _or Winter Sports and Summer Pleasures_ Little Trouble is a host in himself and his larger brother and sister are never still a minute, but go from one little adventure to another in a way to charm all youthful readers. _Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue._ =CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York= BUDDY SERIES By HOWARD R. GARIS _Author of the Famous "Curlytops Series"_ _12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With colored jacket._ _Price 50 cents per volume._ _Postage 10 cents additional._ [Illustration] The author presents a distinctly modern juvenile series of stories for boys. Here we observe a really fascinating character-study of an up-to-date young lad, whose exceedingly energetic mind, and whose overflowing youth and vitality, are constantly leading him into new and more tangled situations, from which by wit, courage and luck, he manages to extricate himself in safety. You will more than like Buddy with his carefree ways, his cheerful smile, his boundless enthusiasm, and his overflowing youth. Buddy is certain to linger in your memory long after you have finished these stories. 1. BUDDY ON THE FARM Or, A Boy and His Prize Pumpkin 2. BUDDY IN SCHOOL Or, A Boy and His Dog 3. BUDDY AND HIS WINTER FUN Or, A Boy in a Snow Camp 4. BUDDY AT RAINBOW LAKE Or, A Boy and His Boat 5. BUDDY AND HIS CHUMS Or, A Boy's Queer Search 6. BUDDY AT PINE BEACH Or, A Boy on the Ocean 7. BUDDY AND HIS FLYING BALLOON Or, A Boy's Mysterious Airship CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, _Publishers_ NEW YORK FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOM SERIES By MABEL C. HAWLEY _12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors. Price per volume 50 cents. Postage 10 cents additional._ [Illustration] =1. FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS AT BROOKSIDE FARM= Mother called them her Four Little Blossoms, but Daddy Blossom called them Bobby, Meg, and the twins. The twins, Twaddles and Dot, were a comical pair and always getting into mischief. The children had heaps of fun around the big farm. =2. FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS AT OAK HILL SCHOOL= In the Fall, Bobby and Meg had to go to school. It was good fun, for Miss Mason was a kind teacher. Then the twins insisted on going to school, too, and their appearance quite upset the class. In school something very odd happened. =3. FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS AND THEIR WINTER FUN= Winter came and with it lots of ice and snow, and oh! what fun the Blossoms had skating and sledding. And once Bobby and Meg went on an errand and got lost in a sudden snowstorm. =4. FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS ON APPLE TREE ISLAND= The Four Little Blossoms went to a beautiful island in the middle of a big lake and there had a grand time on the water and in the woods. =5. FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS THROUGH THE HOLIDAYS= The story starts at Thanksgiving. They went skating and coasting, and they built a wonderful snowman, and one day Bobby and his chums visited a carpenter shop on the sly, and that night the shop burnt down, and there was trouble for the boys. =6. FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS AT SUNRISE BEACH= The Four Little Blossoms start on the happy road to fun and vacation at Sunrise Beach. Their delightful adventures will amuse and interest you. _Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue._ =CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York= PEGGY LEE SERIES By ANNA ANDREWS _12mo. Illustrated. Jackets in full colors. Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional._ [Illustration] _A charming series of stories of a young American girl, Peggy Lee, living with her family (including many unusual pets) on a large coffee plantation in Central America, and her many adventures there and in New York._ _The action is rapid, full of fun, and takes the reader not only to many interesting places in Central America, but in the country as well, where Peggy attends a school for girls. The incidents are cleverly brought out, and Peggy in her wistful way, proves in her many adventures to be a brave girl and an endearing heroine to her friends and readers._ =1. PEGGY AND MICHAEL OF THE COFFEE PLANTATION= =2. PEGGY LEE OF THE GOLDEN THISTLE PLANTATION= =3. PEGGY LEE AND THE MYSTERIOUS ISLANDS= (Other Volumes in Preparation) _Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_ =CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York= THE LINGER-NOTS SERIES By AGNES MILLER _12mo. Cloth Binding. Illustrated._ _Jacket in full colors._ _Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional._ [Illustration] _This new series of girls' books is in a new style of story writing. The interest is in knowing the girls and seeing them solve the problems that develop their character. Incidentally, a great deal of historical information is imparted._ =1. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE MYSTERY HOUSE= _or the Story of Nine Adventurous Girls_ How the Linger-Not girls met and formed their club, and how they made their club serve a great purpose, introduces a new type of girlhood. =2. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE VALLEY FEUD= _or the Great West Point Chain_ The Linger-Not girls had no thought of becoming mixed up with feuds or mysteries, but their habit of being useful soon entangled them in some surprising adventures. =3. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THEIR GOLDEN QUEST= _or The Log of the Ocean Monarch_ For a club of girls to become involved in a mystery leading back into the times of the California gold-rush, and how the girls helped one of their friends to come into her rightful name and inheritance. =4. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE WHISPERING CHARM= _or The Secret from Old Alaska_ Whether engrossed in thrilling adventures in the Far North or occupied with quiet home duties, the Linger-Not girls could work unitedly and solve a colorful mystery. =5. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE SECRET MAZE= _or The Treasure-Trove on Battlefield Hill_ The discovery of a thrilling treasure-trove at the end of the maze where the Linger-Nots learn many useful facts and the real secret of the hidden maze. _Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue._ =CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York= THE RUTH FIELDING SERIES By ALICE B. EMERSON _12 mo. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors._ _Price 50 cents per volume._ _Postage 10 cents additional._ [Illustration] Ruth Fielding was an orphan and came to live with her miserly uncle. Her adventures and travels make stories that will hold the interest of every reader. Ruth Fielding is a character that will live in juvenile fiction. =1. RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL= =2. RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL= =3. RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP= =4. RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT= =5. RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH= =6. RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND= =7. RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM= =8. RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES= =9. RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES= =10. RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE= =11. RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE= =12. RUTH FIELDING IN THE SADDLE= =13. RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS= =14. RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT= =15. RUTH FIELDING HOMEWARD BOUND= =16. RUTH FIELDING DOWN EAST= =17. RUTH FIELDING IN THE GREAT NORTHWEST= =18. RUTH FIELDING ON THE ST. LAWRENCE= =19. RUTH FIELDING TREASURE HUNTING= =20. RUTH FIELDING IN THE FAR NORTH= =21. RUTH FIELDING AT GOLDEN PASS= =22. RUTH FIELDING IN ALASKA= =23. RUTH FIELDING IN HER GREAT SCENARIO= =24. RUTH FIELDING AT CAMERON HALL= =25. RUTH FIELDING CLEARING HER NAME= =26. RUTH FIELDING IN TALKING PICTURES= =27. RUTH FIELDING AND BABY JUNE= =28. RUTH FIELDING AND HER DOUBLE= =CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York= 
33629	----	THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A MONKEY [Illustration] FOUND AND PICTURED BY HY. MAYER VERSES BY ALBERT BIGELOW PAINE [Illustration] NEW YORK R. H. RUSSELL MDCCCXCVII Copyright 1897 BY ROBERT HOWARD RUSSELL [Illustration] PART FIRST. THE DEPARTURE FROM THE FOREST. Where the light laughs in through the tree-tops And sports with the tangled glade, In the depths of an Afric forest My earliest scenes were laid. [Illustration] In a bower that was merry with smilax From the grimace of no-where, I woke I was born on the first day of April And they called me a jungle joke. [Illustration] [Illustration] And the voices of birds were about me-- And the beat and the flutter of wing; While morning returned at the trumpet Of Tusky, our elephant king. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] My nurse was a crooning old beldame Who gazed in the palms of my hands And vowed I was destined to travel In many and marvellous lands. [Illustration] But little I heeded her croaking, For I gamboled the whole day long, And swung by my tail from the tree-top, Or joined in the jungle song. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE SONG OF THE JUNGLE. _The Elephant:_ Oh, I am the lord of the forest and plain! _The Lion, Tigers, etc.:_ And we are the beasts that acknowledge your reign! _The Birds:_ And we are the minstrels that come at your call! _The Monkeys:_ And we are the jesters that laugh at you all! [Illustration] _Chorus, All--_ _Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes!_ _The tribes of the jungle are we--_ _Our home is the darksome wilderness_ _That never a man shall see._ _The Elephant:_ Oh, the jungle was meant and was made for my will! _The Lions, Tigers, etc.:_ For the sport of the chase and the zest of the kill! _The Birds:_ For the beating of wings and the echo of song! _The Monkeys:_ For gambol and grimace the whole season long! [Illustration] [Illustration] _Chorus, All:_ _Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Oh, yes!_ _For all of the tribes that be_ _With homes in the tangled wilderness_ _That never a man shall see._ [Illustration] But, alas, for the boasts of the jungle! The men came among us one day, And one with a box that made music Enticed foolish monkeys away. The birds and the beasts of the forest Were mute at the marvellous song, But the monkeys crept out of the tree-tops-- An eager and wondering throng. [Illustration] The birds and the beasts of the forest Kept hidden and silent that day, But the monkey-folk formed a procession And followed the minstrel away. And thus did we give up the forest To dwell with our brothers, the men-- Farewell to the beautiful jungle! 'Twas long ere I saw it again! [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] PART SECOND. THE WAYS OF MEN. Then away to a far distant country On a drift that they said was a ship, And I studied the ways of my master And profited much by the trip. And we sailed to his home in fair Naples, Where I studied the language of men, And I sat on a bench with his children, But soon we went sailing again. [Illustration] [Illustration] And I made some nice friends on the voyage, And engaged in a pretty romance. I charmed all the ladies by climbing, And one of them taught me to dance. [Illustration] Yet often I longed for the jungle-- Its song and the rustle of wing-- And sometimes at night in my slumber I talked with our elephant king. [Illustration] [Illustration] One morning my master awoke me, And, dressed in a gaudy new suit, I beheld the New World in the sunlight, And lifted my hat in salute. And then began troubles and trials-- Through the streets by a string I was led; Toiling hard all the day for my master, Yet oft going hungry to bed. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] But he sold me at last to a circus And my lot became easier then, So I gave many moments of leisure To acquiring the habits of men. I copied their manners and customs I made of each fashion a note; And the children admired my performance And the ladies the cut of my coat. [Illustration] [Illustration] By and by I was sold to a banker Who was charmed with my ball-rolling feat, And arrayed in a Fauntleroy costume I passed all my time on the street. [Illustration] [Illustration] But alas for my plans of the future! He died without leaving a cent, And I had to go out to hard labor To pay for my victuals and rent; Till I met with a gentleman's valet Who was like me in manner and face, And I told him some stories that pleased him And bribed him to give me his place. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] Then I started to serve my new master-- A bachelor cynic was he, Who quickly saw through the deception And made a proposal to me. Said he: "You're a monkey, you rascal, And an excellent type of the brood; Let's play a good joke on society By passing you off as a dude." [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] So he took me at first to his barber, Who shaved me and shortened my hair, And the last tangled trace of the jungle Was gone when I rose from his chair. [Illustration] [Illustration] And then to his tailor and hatter-- His hosier and all of the rest, Till at night I was changed from a monkey To a chappie most stylishly dressed. And standing alone and reflecting I thought of the why and the how, And I wondered what Tusky was doing And what would the jungle say, now. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] PART THIRD. THE BUTTERFLY WHIRL. It was then for the triumphs of conquest! Oh, then for the life of the swell! I dwelt like a lord with my patron In a suite of a gilded hotel. And we went out to plays and to dinners-- On the ladies he took me to call-- And once we received invitations To a beautiful fancy-dress ball. [Illustration] [Illustration] 'Twas a famous affair and it won me, With its titter and tinsel and tune, For it carried me back to the jungle And the monkey-dance under the moon. Then I mingled with other diversions. I learned how to paint and to ride; I cut a great figure at polo-- The science of golfing I tried. [Illustration] [Illustration] As a wheelman I soon became famous And made a great score on the track-- I was known as the king of the scorchers, With the typical bicycle back. Then a girl who was youthful and silly Made love to me just for a lark, And came with an elegant turnout And took me to drive in the park. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] And I took her out boating next morning, For the face of my charmer was fair; It carried me back to the jungle-- To the flow'rs that were blossoming there. [Illustration] [Illustration] But soon, in the midst of my pleasure, In the glow of a roseate dream, The boat struck a rock and tipped over And tumbled us both in the stream. Then, ho, for the skill of the jungle! The deftness of foot and of hand! For I hung from a limb and I saved her And drew her at last to the strand. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] And then to her home I went proudly To claim the fair maid for my own, But her father demanded a title, And hardened his heart like a stone. And now came the death of my patron, That left me alone in the strife, And yearning once more for the jungle, I turned to political life. [Illustration] PART FOURTH. THE RETURN PATH. Then I studied a week to gain knowledge, And waded through volumes of stuff, And I found that the only requirements Were cunning and blarney and bluff. And these I had brought from the jungle-- Inherited straight from my race-- With a gift for political music And a truly political face. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] Thus feeling at home in my labors, My plan was successful, of course, And when they came round with appointments They gave me a job on "the force." And such was my skill as a roundsman, And talent in keeping the peace, That I rose in a year to be Captain, And then to be Chief of Police! [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] And then, as my years were advancing, So great was their honor and trust, That they twined me a chaplet of laurel And sculptured in marble my bust. [Illustration] [Illustration] Yet often I dreamed of the jungle-- Its song and the rustle of wing-- And sometimes still talked in my slumber With Tusky, our elephant king. When, lo, my political party, That now was in power and supreme, Conferred a most noble appointment That realized all of my dream. [Illustration] [Illustration] For they made me their African envoy, And soon I went sailing again, To meet my old playmates and tell them The ways and the customs of men. To calm the dusk native, and gather My people in sun-haunted nooks To tell them my story, and teach them The wisdom that cometh of books; [Illustration] [Illustration] The words and the ways of _their fathers_, And deliver my race from its ban, For man did not spring from the monkey, But monkey _descended from man!_ [Illustration] [Illustration] 
32334	----	[Illustration: Bed Time Stories Jacko and Jumpo Kinkytail. Howard R. Garis] [Illustration] _BED TIME STORIES_ Jacko and Jumpo Kinkytail (THE FUNNY MONKEY BOYS) BY HOWARD R. GARIS Author of "SAMMIE AND SUSIE LITTLETAIL," "THE UNCLE WIGGILY SERIES," "THE DADDY SERIES," "CIRCUS ANIMAL STORIES," "THE ISLAND BOYS," ETC. _ILLUSTRATED BY LOUIS WISA_ A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers · · · · New York THE FAMOUS BED TIME STORIES Books intended for reading aloud to the Little Folk each night. Each volume contains 8 colored illustrations and 31 stories--one for each night in the month. Handsomely bound in cloth. Size 6-1/2 by 8-1/4. =Price 60 cents per volume, postpaid.= HOWARD R. GARIS' BED TIME ANIMAL STORIES No. 1. SAMMIE AND SUSIE LITTLETAIL No. 2. JOHNNIE AND BILLIE BUSHYTAIL No. 3. LULU, ALICE AND JIMMIE WIBBLE-WOBBLE No. 5. JACKIE AND PEETIE BOW WOW No. 7. BUDDY AND BRIGHTEYES PIGG No. 9. JOIE, TOMMIE AND KITTIE KAT No. 10. CHARLIE AND ARABELLA CHICK No. 14. NEDDIE AND BECKIE STUBTAIL No. 16. BULLY AND BAWLY NO-TAIL No. 20. NANNIE AND BILLIE WAGTAIL No. 28. JOLLIE AND JILLIE LONGTAIL No. 30. JACKO AND JUMPO KINKYTAIL No. 32. CURLEY AND FLOPPY TWISTYTAIL UNCLE WIGGILY BED TIME STORIES No. 4. UNCLE WIGGILY'S ADVENTURES No. 6. UNCLE WIGGILY'S TRAVELS No. 8. UNCLE WIGGILY'S FORTUNE No. 11. UNCLE WIGGILY'S AUTOMOBILE No. 19. UNCLE WIGGILY AT THE SEASHORE No. 21. UNCLE WIGGILY'S AIRSHIP No. 27. UNCLE WIGGILY IN THE COUNTRY No. 29. UNCLE WIGGILY IN THE WOODS No. 31. UNCLE WIGGILY ON THE FARM For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price by the publishers. * * * * * A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23 Street New York Copyright, 1917, by R. F. Fenno & Company JACKO AND JUMPO KINKYTAIL CONTENTS STORY PAGE I The Kinkytails Go To School 9 II Jumpo and the Cocoanut 16 III The Kinkytails Make a Pudding 23 IV Jacko and the Peanuts 29 V Jumpo and the Ice Cream 36 VI Jacko and the Paper Bag 42 VII Jumpo and the Green Parrot 48 VIII The Kinkytails and the Bear 55 IX The Kinkytails at Hide and Seek 62 X Jumpo and Uncle Wiggily 68 XI Jumpo and Susie Littletail 74 XII Jacko and the Little Mouse 81 XIII Papa Kinkytail and Mr. Gander 88 XIV Jumpo and the Chestnut Burr 95 XV Jacko and the Roast Chestnuts 102 XVI The Kinkytails Make Money 108 XVII The Kinkytails Spend Money 114 XVIII Jumpo and Jacko in the Auto 120 XIX Jumpo and the Roast Marshmallows 126 XX Jacko and the Busy Bee 133 XXI Jacko and the Grape Vine 139 XXII Jacko Does Some Tricks 146 XXIII Jumpo and the Paper Cup 153 XXIV The Kinkytails Blow Bubbles 160 XXV Jacko and the Paper Chain 167 XXVI The Kinkytails and the Cricket 174 XXVII The Kinkytails and the Doll's House 180 XXVIII Jacko and the Train of Cars 187 XXIX Jumpo and His Airship 194 XXX Jumpo and the Talcum Powder 200 XXXI How Jacko Washed the Dishes 207 JACKO AND JUMPO KINKYTAIL STORY I THE KINKYTAILS GO TO SCHOOL Once upon a time, not so very many years ago, there were two little monkey boys who lived with their papa and mamma off in the woods in a funny house at the top of a tall tree. These little monkeys were the cutest and most cunning chaps you would want to see, even if you went in an airship to the circus. I have already told you something about one of them--a red monkey--who traveled with Uncle Wiggily Longears, when the old gentleman rabbit was going about, seeking his fortune. Well, this red monkey's name was Jacko Kinkytail; and his tail, as were the tails of all his family, was all twisted up in kinks. That's how Jacko got his last name--Kinkytail. His brother's name was Jumpo, and Jumpo was colored green. The reason for that was this: Once Jumpo's mamma bought him a green balloon at the circus. Jumpo was a little baby then, and he didn't know any better than to try to eat the green balloon. Perhaps he thought it was candy. At any rate, before his mamma saw him he had chewed nearly half of the balloon, and he soon turned a pretty green color like the leaves on the trees. Oh! his mamma and papa felt dreadful about it, and they did everything they could to get the color out of the little monkey, but they couldn't, and green he stayed. "But it doesn't much matter," said Jumpo's papa, "for as long as Jacko is red I think it is nice to have his brother colored green. They look so odd and queer when they go out walking together." "Oh, but think of having one's children red and green, like some flag," cried Mamma Kinkytail. However, it couldn't be helped, so now I'll tell you some stories of Jacko and Jumpo. One morning when the two little monkey boys were eating their breakfast in the funny house up in a tree, they suddenly heard a bell ringing. "Ding dong! Dong ding! Ding-ding! Dong-dong!" rang the bell. "My! I wonder what that can be?" exclaimed Jumpo, as he finished eating some toasted peanuts with cocoanut on. "Perhaps it's a fire," suggested Jacko, as he looked to see if any of his red color had come off on his napkin, but it hadn't, I am glad to say. "Oh, if it's a fire, let's run and see it!" cried Jumpo, getting out of his chair. "Maybe they'll let us squirt some water on the blaze." "Silly monkey chaps!" cried Mamma Kinkytail, as she laughed at them, "that is not a fire bell, that is the school bell, for school starts to-day, and you must hurry or you will be late." "Oh, dear! School!" cried Jacko, making a funny face. "Oh, me! Oh, my!" said Jumpo. "Have we got to go to school?" "To be sure," answered their mamma. "Vacation and play time is over, and you must be at your lessons. Hurry now, there go Sammie and Susie Littletail, and Sammie has on a new suit." "Yes, and there go the Bushytail brothers," added Jumpo as he saw two squirrel boys hurrying past while the school bell rang louder and louder. "Oh, come on, let's go. We'll have some fun!" cried Jacko, and before you knew it he was hanging by his tail from the front door bell knob, and the next moment he had scrambled down the tree trunk and was running after the squirrels and rabbits. "You've forgotten your books!" called his mamma. "Never mind, I'll take them," said Jumpo, kindly, so, picking up his own books and those of his brother, he wound his long tail about them, and down he scrambled from the little house in the tree, and soon he, too, was running to school, while the bell went on ringing. "Ding-dong! Dong-ding!" Now the school where the monkeys, and all the other animal children studied, was a hollow stump in the woods, and a wise old owl bird was the teacher. Soon all the pupils were in the room, and the teacher told them how glad she was to see them back, and she said she hoped they had all had nice vacations. "And I have quite a treat for you," went on the teacher. "Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit, who has just returned from seeking his fortune all over the world, is going to tell you a story this afternoon, if you all have your lessons this morning. Now we will have the class in spelling. Jacko Kinkytail, please spell me the word dog." "I don't like to," said Jacko, waving his tail to and fro, bashful like. "Why not?" asked the owl teacher, surprised like. "I'm afraid if I spell the word a dog might come in through the window and bite us." "Nonsense!" exclaimed the teacher. "Jumpo, you spell dog." "D-o-g," spelled Jumpo, as nicely as could be. "Very good," said the teacher. "Now, Jacko, you see no dog came in at all, so you may go to the blackboard, Jumpo, and write the word dog." Now Jumpo was a very mischievous little monkey--that is, he was always doing something funny, and it was not always right and proper, either. I forgot to tell you this at first, so I put it in here. When Jumpo went to the blackboard he took a piece of chalk in one paw, and, very nicely indeed, he wrote the word "dog." And then he did what wasn't exactly right. With his long tail, which was almost like another hand for him, he took a second piece of chalk, and, while he was once more writing the word "dog," he drew a funny picture of an elephant standing on his head. He did this with the chalk in his tail, and when the other pupils saw the queer picture they laughed right out loud in school. "Ha! ha!" "Why, Jumpo!" exclaimed the teacher, sorrowful like. "I am surprised at you! You are here to learn, and not to make funny pictures. There is time enough at recess for that. I shall have to ask you to stay in after school. Go to your seat." Well, Jumpo felt badly. He hadn't meant to make trouble, but you see he didn't think. All the rest of the morning he sat in his seat, feeling sorry, and he didn't want to stay in after school, but he knew he had to. And then something happened. All of a sudden, just as Susie Littletail, the rabbit girl, was reciting in the number class, and telling how many lollypops two apples and two pears made, a lean, hungry wolf looked in at the schoolroom window, and growled: "Oh, ho! What a fine meal I see before me! I'll eat you all, even the owl teacher!" Oh, my! How frightened every one was. That is, all but Jumpo Kinkytail. Up he leaped and rushed to the blackboard. Then, using his two front paws and his tail, he drew with the chalk a big picture of a man shooting a bang-bang gun. "Look at that, Mr. Wolf!" cried Jumpo, and when the wolf saw the picture of the man with the gun he thought it was real, and wolf was so afraid he would be shot that he ran off as fast as he could go, and he didn't eat anybody for nearly two weeks. "Oh, Jumpo!" exclaimed the owl teacher after she had gotten over being frightened. "We can't thank you enough. I forgive you for being bad in the spelling class, and you needn't stay in after school. But please be good after this." So Jumpo said he would. But I'm sorry to say he soon forgot, and did more mischief. I'll tell you about it in the next story which will be about Jumpo Kinkytail and the cocoanut--that is, if the chocolate cake doesn't fall off the table and splash all over the lemon pie when it makes its bow to the spoon holder. STORY II JUMPO AND THE COCOANUT Uncle Wiggily Longears, the old gentleman rabbit, couldn't go to the owl teacher's school and tell the children about his travels on the day he had promised to do so. It was because his rheumatism was very bad, so the pupils, including Jacko and Jumpo Kinkytail, the red and green monkeys, were allowed to play a game instead of hearing a story. "Perhaps Uncle Wiggily will come tomorrow," said the teacher. And that is what the rabbit did, and he told how he had traveled many miles, and had had dozens and dozens of adventures, of which I have told you in the stories before this one. He also told how Jacko Kinkytail had been with him part of the time. "Oh, my, I wish I had been along," said Sammie Littletail to Jacko after school was over. "Yes, indeed, so do I," said Billy No-Tail, the frog, as he looked at his grandfather's tall hat which he was wearing, to see if it had any holes in the top; but it hadn't. "Oh, I had lots of fun," said Jacko, the red monkey, "but I would have had more if my brother Jumpo, or some of you boys, had been with me. Uncle Wiggily was very nice." "Come on, let's have a game of ball," suggested Jumpo, the green monkey. So the boy animals put their books on the grass, and they had a little ball game on their way home from school. It was a fine game, too. Once when Billie Wagtail, the goat boy, knocked the ball away up in the air with his horns, Jumpo Kinkytail climbed up a tree, and, hanging to the top branch only by his tail, he reached up and caught the ball before it got to the ground. "Fine! Fine!" cried all the other animal players as Jumpo came down. Well, after the game was over, the boy animals started for home, and on the way a bad fox jumped out of the bushes and tried to grab the red monkey. But Jumpo, his green brother, made such a funny face, like an orange and a lemon twisted into an apple pie, with a stick of peppermint candy stuck through the middle, that the fox had to laugh, and of course when he laughed he couldn't chase the red and green monkeys, so they got safely home. "You must be careful after this," said their mamma when Jacko and Jumpo had told her of the fox. "I will have your father speak to the policeman about it when he comes home from the hand organ factory where he works. And now you monkey boys please go out and cut some wood for me, for I must get supper. Then you can study your lessons. Hurry now, Jacko and Jumpo." "What are we going to have for supper, mamma?" asked Jumpo. "Well, for one thing, I am going to make a cocoanut cake," said the mamma monkey. "Oh, goody!" cried Jacko and Jumpo as they danced around in the kitchen and hugged each other with their long tails. "That will be fine!" "Come, now, get in the wood for the fire!" cried their mamma, so down the tall tree they scrambled, and soon they were gathering up sticks in their four paws and their tails also. "I guess I've got my share," said Jumpo at last. "I'm going in and study my lessons." So into the house he went, while Jacko went looking for hickory nuts. But Jumpo couldn't do much studying. He was thinking too much about the cocoanut cake that was to be for supper. "I guess I'll just go into the kitchen and take a look at the cocoanut, to make sure it's there," said the little green monkey after a while. So, laying aside his spelling-book, Jumpo went to the kitchen. Mrs. Kinkytail wasn't there just then, having gone down cellar after some butter. But the cocoanut was on the table in its brown shell, all ready to be broken open and the white meat inside put in the cake. "Oh, what an exceedingly large and fine cocoanut!" exclaimed Jumpo, speaking very correctly as he had been taught in school. "I will just lift it to see how heavy it is." Now, Jumpo's mamma had told him never to meddle with the things in the kitchen, when she was baking, for once he had mixed the sugar and salt, and everything tasted dreadfully. But you see he forgot what his mamma had said, and almost before he knew what he was doing he had picked up the cocoanut. "I'll just shake it, to see if there is any milk inside," he said, and he held it up to his ear, and wiggled it to and fro. Surely enough there was plenty of the milky white juice inside, and Jumpo could hear it splashing around. "Oh, this is fine!" he cried as he shook the cocoanut harder than before, and then--alas and alack-a-day! The first thing he knew the cocoanut had slipped from his paws. Down upon the floor it fell, away it rolled, and before Jumpo could stop it that cocoanut had fallen out of the kitchen door of the little house in the tree, right down to the ground below. "Oh, I must get it before mamma comes back!" exclaimed the green monkey. Quickly he scrambled down the tree, winding his tail around the lowest branch and leaping to the ground. But the cocoanut was nowhere to be seen. "I wonder if Jacko could have taken it to play a joke on me?" thought Jumpo. Then he looked over toward the bushes, and he saw something moving, and there was the cocoanut rolling along, faster than ever. "My! It must be going down hill!" cried Jumpo, as he sprang after it. Well, the cocoanut kept on going. Once Jumpo almost had it in his left paw, but the cocoanut hit a stone and bounded away from him. Then he almost had it in his right foot, but the cocoanut went splash into a little brook of water and the green monkey couldn't see it. Then it rolled out and he managed to get his tail around the nut, but it was so slippery that it got away from him--the cocoanut got away, not Jumpo's tail, you understand. No, that stayed fast on the monkey boy. "Oh, I guess we won't have any cocoanut cake for supper to-night," thought the little green fellow. "I wish I had stayed out of the kitchen, as mamma told me. But I'm not going to give up yet. I'll get that cocoanut if it's possible!" So he ran on, faster than ever, but the cocoanut rolled quicker and quicker. It was now getting late, and Jumpo didn't know what to do. He could still see the cocoanut ahead of him, but he couldn't catch up to it. "Oh, whatever shall I do?" he cried. And just then he saw something like a big red hole, with rows of sharp white teeth in it. At first he thought it was his red brother Jacko, but when he looked again he saw that it was the skillery-scalery alligator. "Oh, I'm just waiting for you," said the 'gator with his mouth open real wide. "Oh, dear!" cried Jumpo, "this comes of not minding one's mother. The cocoanut is gone and I'll soon be gone, too," for he surely thought the alligator would get him. In fact the alligator was just going to eat up the little green monkey when the skillery-scalery creature gave his tail a big flop. Then something round and brown sailed up into the air, came down ker-bunk, right on the end of the 'gator's nose, and bounded off. "Oh, my! Some one is shooting cannon balls at me!" cried the 'gator. "I never can stand cannon balls." So away he went, as fast as he could, taking his double-jointed tail with him. And listen, as the telephone girl says, it wasn't a cannon ball at all, that had hit the 'gator, it was the lost cocoanut. Jumpo caught it as it came down, after the 'gator had accidentally tossed it into the air with his tail, and then the green monkey hurried home with it as fast as he could hurry, and so he had cocoanut cake for supper after all. Of course, Jumpo's mamma scolded him a little for what he had done, and he said he was sorry, so she forgave him. And the monkeys had more adventures. I'll tell you of one soon, and the next story will be about the Kinkytails making a pudding--that is, if the elephant in the picture-book doesn't take the baby's rattle-box and beat the drum with it. STORY III THE KINKYTAILS MAKE A PUDDING It happened, once upon a time, that Jacko and Jumpo Kinkytail, the red and green monkey boys, didn't have to go to school. This was because it was Saturday, when there was no school; so now I've told you the true reason. "What shall we do?" asked Jumpo of his brother, as he wound the end of his long tail around a tree branch and swung head downward while he ate an apple as easily as you can shell a peanut. "Do you want to play Indian and let me shoot you with my make-believe gun?" asked Jacko, the red monkey. "No, indeed! Thank you just the same," replied his green brother as he unhooked his tail from the tree and stood on his head, getting ready to turn a somersault. "The last time you shot at me while we were playing Indian, you didn't remember that you had a cork in your pop-gun, and it hit me on the end of the nose. I haven't forgotten that." "I'm very sorry," spoke Jacko. "Then I'll tell you what let's do. We'll go off in the woods, and maybe we can find the old monkey who has five hand organs, one of which he plays with his tail. Perhaps he'll let us play one." "Fine!" cried Jumpo, so off they started for the woods. Well, they looked and they looked some more, but they couldn't find the monkey who had five hand organs, and pretty soon those two boys went back home. But when Jacko and Jumpo got to the little house in the tree, their mamma wasn't there. Instead she had left a note on a plate of bread and jam for them. The note said: "Dear Jacko and Jumpo. I have gone to call on Aunt Lettie, the old lady goat. I will be back in time to get your supper." "Well!" said Jumpo, winding his tail around the leg of a chair, before he sat down in it. "I hope she does come back in time for supper, for I am hungry. However, she left some bread and jam for us. Let's eat that." "She is the best mamma in all the world," said Jacko, as he took some of the bread and jam, "and I think we ought to do something for her." "What could we do?" asked Jumpo. "Why, we could get something ready for supper, so she won't have to work so hard when she comes in. Let's make a cake." "No, let's make a pudding," suggested Jumpo. "A pudding is ever so much easier, and besides it will be done quicker, and we can taste it to see if it's good." "Fine!" cried Jacko, "we'll make a pudding. But how do you do it?" "It is easy," said his brother. "You take some milk and some sugar and some eggs and cocoanut, and things like that, and mix them up in a pan. Then you bake it in the oven." "What, the pan or the pudding?" Jacko wanted to know. "Both, I guess," answered Jumpo. "Anyhow I know mamma puts the pudding in the pan, and then she puts both of them in the oven, so she must bake both." "Then we'll do it that way," decided Jacko. "Now here are some eggs, and we can get the milk and sugar and other things. But, hold on, Jumpo; do you put the eggs in just as they are, with the shells on, or do you break them?" "I don't know," spoke the green monkey, as he looked at his tail to see if it had any hard knots in it, but it hadn't. "Then we can't make a pudding if you don't know," said Jacko, disappointed like. "Oh, yes, we can, easily," went on his brother. "We can put in some eggs without the shells, and some with the shells on." "The very thing," cried Jacko. "I never would have thought of that. You are very clever, Jumpo." So the two monkey boys took a pan, and into it they broke some eggs, throwing the shells away, and into the pan they also put some whole eggs with the shells on. "Now for the milk," said Jumpo. "Should we use sweet milk or sour milk?" asked his brother. "There you go again!" exclaimed Jumpo. "You are always asking questions to puzzle me. What do you think--sweet or sour milk?" "Both!" cried Jacko, "then we'll be sure to be right." "Of course!" agreed Jumpo; so into the pan they put some sweet and also some sour milk. "Now for some sugar and some raisins and grated cocoanut and the pudding will be done!" called Jacko. So they put those things in the pan and stirred them up with a big spoon. "Now, should we bake this pudding in the oven or on top of the stove in a frying pan?" asked Jacko. "Oh, there you go again!" cried Jumpo. "Asking more puzzling questions! Let's do both." "We can't," decided his brother. "Well, then, we'll fry this pudding in a pan on top of the stove, as mamma does an omelet," said Jumpo. "It looks like an omelet, anyhow." So into the frying pan they poured their pudding, set it on the stove, and soon it began to cook. "Now when it's brown on one side, I'll turn it over with the pancake turner," said Jumpo, "and cook the other side." "Good!" cried his brother. So they carefully watched the pudding, waiting for it to be cooked on one side. And, just as Jumpo got ready to turn it, there was a knocking on the door of the little house, and a voice cried: "I'm coming in to eat you monkeys up!" And with that in came a savage wolf. Oh, how frightened Jacko and Jumpo were! But Jumpo knew just what to do. First he quickly tied his tail into a hard knot so it would be short, and not in the way. Then he took up the soft pudding out of the frying pan on the pancake turner and he threw it right in the face of that wolf. Oh! I wish you could have seen him! That wolf was all covered with broken eggs, and whole eggs, and raisins and sweet milk, and sour milk, and cocoanut, and sugar and everything like that. Oh! what a sight he was! And as he was so frightened that he ran down the tree, up which he had climbed by his sharp toenails, and he hid himself in the woods. "Oh, but our pudding is spoiled!" cried Jacko, sad like. "Never mind," said Mamma Kinkytail, who came in just then, having seen the wolf run away. "Jumpo was a good boy." And when she heard how they had made the pudding she said it was just as well, after all, that it was thrown at the wolf, for it would not have been good to eat. So she made a nice chocolate cake for supper, leaving out the egg shells and sour milk, and the pudding was all eaten up, for the red and green monkeys and their papa were very hungry. Now the next story will be about Jacko and the peanuts--that is, if the little girl across the street doesn't wheel her doll carriage into a mud puddle and splash my new shoes that I want to dance in at the moving pictures. STORY IV JACKO AND THE PEANUTS One day Jumpo Kinkytail, the little green monkey, was ill with the sniffle-snuffles and could not go to school. I don't know whether it was because he had missed his lesson the day before, or because he waded through a mud-puddle on his way home, and got his feet wet that made him sniffle. Anyhow Dr. Possum came and gave him some bitter medicine. It was so bitter that Jumpo made a funny face like two sour oranges and a piece of lemon pie all rolled up together. And his brother Jacko laughed, which didn't make Jumpo feel any better. "Humph! I don't laugh when you are ill," said Jumpo, twisting up his face like a crooked doughnut. "I'm sorry, but really I couldn't help it," said Jacko, as he got ready to go off to school. "You do make the funniest faces, Jumpo. But I'll tell the teacher you can't come to class, and I'll ask her what lesson you are to study. Then I'll bring home your books." "Oh, you needn't bother," said Jumpo quickly. "I--I guess I'm not sick enough for that. Just tell teacher that I can spell cow now. I know better than to begin it with a 'K.'" For that is the lesson Jumpo had missed the day before he was taken ill. Well, Jacko started for school, and on the way all the other animal children asked him where his little green brother was. "I'm very sorry," said Bully No-Tail, the frog, when he had heard what was the trouble. "I like Jumpo because he is the same color I am, and tomorrow I'm going to bring him some green grapes so he can play marbles with them in bed." "That will be nice," said Jacko. Then he got to school and told the teacher about Jumpo. Of course the owl lady was also sorry for the little sick monkey, and she wrote him a nice note on a piece of white cocoanut, so that after Jumpo had read it he could eat the cocoanut--that is, when he was well enough. Pretty soon it was time for school to be out, and Jacko hurried home to be with his sick brother. "I'll just take the short path through the woods," thought the little red monkey. "Then I'll be home quicker. And I wish I had a penny, or a five-cent piece. Then I would buy Jumpo an ice cream cone. But I haven't any money." So of course when one has no money one can buy no ice cream cones, but still Jacko wished it just the same, which shows that he had a kind heart. He was going through a dark part of the woods, when all of a sudden he saw, just in front of him, some small, whitish looking things, like little stones. "Ha! I wonder what these are?" said Jacko, as he took hold of his books in his tail and went carefully forward. "Perhaps that is a trap to catch me." Then he saw that the little things were a lot of peanuts, all strung out in a row on the ground, like grains of corn, one after another. "Ah, ha! I see!" exclaimed the Jack o'Lantern--oh, I beg your pardon, I mean the red monkey. "These are peanuts. Some one has been along here with a bag that had a hole in it, and the peanuts dropped out," went on Jacko. "Well, if I knew to whom they belonged I'd give them back. But, as I don't, I'll take them home to my sick brother, and later on, if some one claims them, I'll save up my pennies and pay them back." So with this kind thought in mind, Jacko set to work to gather up the peanuts. There were quite a number of them, when they were all in one pile--as many as two five-cent bags full. "I think I will eat just one, to see if they will be good for Jumpo," said Jacko, after a while. So, with his strong, white teeth he cracked the shell of one peanut and ate it--that is, he ate the peanut, not the shell. Of course, you understand and I suppose I needn't have mentioned it. But, anyhow, I did. "Oh, my! Oh, dear! Oh, hum suz dud!" exclaimed Jacko, when he had eaten the peanut. "This will never do at all. The peanuts are damp, and wet, and not nice and brown and crisp as they ought to be." For you know there is nothing more unpleasant than half-roasted and soft peanuts--even onions aren't much worse, I think. "I must build a fire and roast them nice and hot and fresh," said Jacko. "Then they will be good for sick Jumpo." So then and there Jacko built a little fire in the woods, and set to work to roast the peanuts over again, first taking his books out of his tail and putting them safely on a stump where they wouldn't burn. When the fire was nice and hot, Jacko took a tin can, put the peanuts in it, and set the can on the hot coals. Then he stirred the peanuts with a long stick so they wouldn't burn. He was doing this, and thinking how pleased his brother would be, when, all of a sudden there was a noise up in a tree over Jacko's head, and down climbed the black bear. He landed right near the red monkey and that bear cried out: "Oh, ho! Things are nice and warm and comfortable here. I have come just in time. Now I will have a good supper. I was afraid I wasn't going to have any." "Were you--that is, were you thinking of eating the peanuts?" asked Jacko. "Because if you were, they are my brother's." "No. I wasn't thinking of eating the peanuts," growled the bear. "I was thinking of eating you. And now I am done thinking, and I am going to get busy. Here I come!" Then, with a growl, he made a grab for Jacko, but the monkey jumped back. He was thinking very hard, for he didn't want to be eaten up. Then he said very quickly: "Will you grant me one favor before you eat me, Mr. Bear?" "What is it?" growled the shaggy creature. "Please let me take the peanuts off the fire so they won't burn," spoke Jacko. "Go ahead," growled the bear. "That will be the last thing you do." "We'll see about that," thought Jacko, as he tied a hard knot in his tail. Then, taking a lot of damp leaves in his paws so he wouldn't get burned, he lifted off the fire the can of hot peanuts. And then and there, while the bear was still growling, the red monkey threw the hot pan, hot peanuts and all, right on top of the bear's soft and tender nose. "Wow, Oh, wow! My! Oh, my!" howled the bear, and he felt so badly about it that he ran off through the woods to find a spring of water where he could cool his nose. But Jacko didn't wait for the bear to come back. Instead, the red monkey gathered up the hot peanuts from where they had fallen. Into his school bag he packed them as fast as he could and then he set out for home on the jump, and got there safely. And oh! how glad Jumpo was to get the hot roasted peanuts. In fact they made him well the next day. And he said Jacko was a brave monkey boy to think of such a trick to play on the bear. And so did Mr. and Mrs. Kinkytail. But you are sleepy now, so you must go to bed. Good night. And the next story will be about Jumpo and the ice cream--that is, if the bathroom looking-glass doesn't see the pussy cat standing on its head under the stove and get so frightened it can't clean its teeth. STORY V JUMPO AND THE ICE CREAM It was a few days after Jumpo Kinkytail, the little green monkey boy, had been taken ill with the sniffle-snuffles, and now he was all better, for the hot peanuts had made him well. He and his brother Jacko, the red monkey, were hurrying along the road together to get to school before the last bell rang. "For we must not be late," said Jumpo. "No, indeed," agreed Jacko. "Shall I carry your books for you, Jumpo? You are not yet strong from having been ill." "Thank you, I'll be glad to have you carry them," said Jumpo politely, so Jacko put his brother's books in the loop of his tail together with his own, and they got to school just as the doors were being closed. "Now the class in number work will recite," said the owl teacher, as she took a piece of blue chalk and went to the blackboard. "If I had two apples, and Jacko Kinkytail gave me three more, how many would I have?" asked the teacher, and she wrote a big figure 2 on the blackboard, and under it a big 3. "You may answer, Jumpo," she said. Jumpo thought for a few seconds. "Well, can't you tell?" asked the owl kindly. "If you please," said Jumpo, after a bit, "it can't be apples that Jacko would give you, because it's pears that Jacko has in his pocket. Three pears--I saw Mamma give them to him for recess. I can't add pears and apples together." Well, the whole class laughed at that, and the teacher said: "I was only making believe, Jumpo, just as when Uncle Wiggily Longears pretends as he tells you a story. However, we will say two pears and three pears, if that will suit you better. You may come to the board and add up this sum for me." So Jumpo went to the board, and he took the piece of blue chalk in his left paw. And then he couldn't seem to help doing a funny trick. When the teacher wasn't looking he reached over, and with his tail he took an eraser and erased the numbers from another part of the board where Jennie Chipmunk was doing a sum in arithmetic, so Jennie didn't have any numbers to add up, and she cried out: "Oh, dear!" "What's the matter?" asked the teacher quickly, and then, turning around, she saw the mischief Jumpo had done. "You may go to your seat," she said to the green monkey, sad like, "and you must stay in after school. Sammie Littletail, you may finish the sum on which Jumpo started. He is too playful today." At first Jumpo thought it was fun to have rubbed out Jennie Chipmunk's numbers with his tail, and then he felt sorry. He was more sorry as his brother and all the other pupils went out when school was done, and he had to stay in the room. He could hear the boys having a ball game, and the girls were playing tag, and Jumpo wished he hadn't been bad. But that's the way it is sometimes in this world. After a bit the teacher said: "You may go now, Jumpo. Tomorrow please try a little harder to be good. I know you can if you will." "Yes'm," was all Jumpo said. It was quite late when he got out, and all the boys and girls had gone home. Jumpo thought he might as well go home, too, but as it was getting dark he didn't go through the woods. Instead he went around by way of Grandfather Goosey Gander's home. Now, not far from where the old gentleman gander lived there was a bad fox who had built himself a bungalow. And he was a very rich fox, having ice cream for supper nearly every night. Still he was never satisfied. He wanted a goose, or a rabbit, or a squirrel, or a monkey, or something like that. So when he looked out of his bungalow window, and saw Jumpo Kinkytail coming along, this fox said to himself: "Ah, ha! Perhaps I can have a monkey supper tonight. I must catch that little green chap." Still the sly fox knew better than to rush out and try to grab the monkey. "I must play a trick on him," he said to himself. "What shall I do?" Now, outside the fox's bungalow was a freezer full of ice cream ready for his supper. Quickly taking out the can with the ice cream in it, the fox left nothing there but the wooden tub filled with freezing ice and salt. On this he put a sign which read: "Help yourself to ice cream." Well, of course, when Jumpo saw that sign he thought he would take some cream. "I'll eat a bit," he said, "and bring some home to my mamma and papa and Jacko. Oh, some one was very kind to leave this here for me." You see, he didn't know the trick the fox had made up to catch him. Into the freezing mixture of ice and salt poor Jumpo plunged his paw, and in an instant it was frozen fast there, and he couldn't get it out, as the late afternoon was cold. Pull and pull as he did, the little green monkey was held fast, just as if he was in a trap. "Oh, dear! This is terrible! Oh, it isn't ice cream at all. It's just ice, and I'm frozen fast. Will no one help me?" cried Jumpo. "No," said the fox, "no one will, and when it gets dark enough, so no one can see me, I'm coming out and get you and eat you. I have you fast, just where I want you." And indeed it did seem so, for the harder Jumpo pulled the tighter he was held. He begged and pleaded, but it was of no use. It got darker and darker, and the fox was just coming out with a hatchet to chop Jumpo's paw out of the ice, so he could take him inside the bungalow stump, when, all of a sudden, Grandfather Goosey Gander heard the monkey boy's cries. "That is some one in trouble!" exclaimed the old gander gentleman, and he put back on the stove the hot flatiron with which he was ironing his silk hat ready for Sunday. So he opened the door and called: "What's the trouble?" "I'm frozen fast in the ice cream tub, and the fox is going to catch me!" cried Jumpo. "Ha! Hum! We'll see about that!" shouted Grandfather Goosey Gander. In an instant he caught up the hot flatiron off the stove, and out he ran. Then, before the fox could get at the monkey boy the goose gentleman had put the hot flatiron on the ice in the tub, taking care not to burn Jumpo. And there was a sizzling, hissing sound, and in another instant the ice was melted because of the hot flatiron, and Jumpo was free. Then he ran to Grandfather Goosey Gander's house with the old gentleman, and the fox didn't get him, and pretty soon Jumpo went home to tell the folks all about it. And for some time after that Jumpo was a good monkey boy in school. Now, in the next story I'm going to tell you about Jacko and the paper bag--that is, if the sofa cushion doesn't get tangled up in the lamp chimney and spoil the pudding for supper. STORY VI JACKO AND THE PAPER BAG "Well, what shall we do today?" asked Jumpo of his brother, as the two monkey boys slid down out of the tree-house one Saturday morning. "We don't have to go to school," spoke Jacko, "and I'm glad of it. Suppose we play soldier. I'll let you shoot me, if you don't do it too hard." "All right. Oh, I tell you what let's do!" and Jumpo was so excited that he tied his tail in three hard knots and he could hardly get them out again. "What shall we do?" asked his brother, as he kindly helped untie the knots in Jumpo's tail. "We'll get a lot of the fellows, and have a regular battle," proposed Jumpo. "We'll get Sammy Littletail and the two Bushytail brothers, and Buddy Pigg, and Peetie and Jackie Bow Wow, and Jimmy Wibblewobble and Billie Wagtail, the goat, and all the others, including Munchie Trot, and we'll choose sides and have a big fight. One side can be Indians, and the other white men." "Fine! Fine!" cried Jacko. "You go get the fellows, and I'll whittle out the make-believe wooden guns." Off Jumpo started, and it wasn't long before he had met a lot of his boy friends. Of course they thought it was great fun to play soldier, and they hurried back with him. By this time Jacko had a lot of guns made, and then the boys divided into two parties. Jacko was captain of one side, and he and his friends were to pretend to be white soldiers, and the others, of which Jumpo was captain, were to be the Indians. "Now, we'll go off in the woods," said Jumpo, "and we Indians will wait until you white fellows have built a cabin. Then we'll come in the night--make-believe night, you know--and we'll shoot at you, and burn the cabin down, and take you prisoners." "No fair throwing stones!" cried Buddy Pigg, looking to see if any tail had grown on him yet, but none had. "No, there must be no stones," declared Jacko. "Now fellows, get to work building our cabin. Billie Wagtail, you get some long sticks, and, Buddy, you get some small ones." Buddy and Billie were on Jacko's side, and Sammie Littletail was one of the Indians, and so was Johnny Bushytail and Munchie Trot, the pony. In fact there were about seven boys on each side. Well, pretty soon the white soldiers had their cabin built, and then it was time for the Indians to come and fight them. Jacko hollered when they were ready, and then he and his friends went inside the little cabin and made believe go to sleep. "And, mind you," said Jacko, "when the Indians come you fellows must shoot off your guns as hard as anything." "Sure," said Billie Wagtail, shaking his horns. Pretty soon there was a rustling in the bushes, and along crept the make-believe Indians, softly and silently. Then, when they saw the cabin, Jumpo cried: "Fire! Fire! Shoot 'em! Bang! Bang! Capture 'em!" Up jumped Jacko and his men. "Bangity-bang-bang!" cried Jacko. "Shoot 'em fellows! Fire like anything! Don't let 'em take us!" Well, I just wish you could have heard that racket! No, on second thought perhaps it's just as well you didn't, for it might have made you deaf to hear so many guns going off at once. Oh, it was a fierce fight! if you will excuse me saying so. And after a while the Indians won, and into the cabin they rushed. "Escape! Get away fellows," cried brave monkey boy Jacko. "I'll keep them back until you get away." "That's not fair!" shouted Sammie Littletail. "Yes it is," said Billie Wagtail. Well, Billie and the other white soldiers ran out the back door, while Jacko was shooting at the Indians at the front door, and so all the white soldiers got away except little red monkey, and he was caught. "Now, we'll tie him to a tree, and we'll go off and try to catch the others," said Jumpo. So, in fun, they tied Jacko fast to a tree, and left him there in the woods by the make-believe cabin all alone, while they ran off shouting. "My! That was jolly sport," thought Jacko, and he was glad to rest for a while. Then he began to feel a bit lonesome. "I wish I could get away," he said, and he found that he could wiggle his arms out of the ropes. "But it wouldn't be fair to run off when they have captured me," he went on. "Though I know what I can do. I'll play a trick on them when they come back." In his coat pocket he found an empty paper bag. This he blew up full of wind, and he twisted the neck of it so the wind wouldn't get out. "When they come back I'll crack the bag and make it burst. They will think it's a cannon," he said with a laugh. Then he waited. But all of a sudden, before he could count forty-'leven, along came the skillery-scalery alligator. The creature with the double-jointed tail saw the little red monkey tied fast to the tree with ropes. "Ah, ha! Now I have you!" cried the 'gator, licking his chops. "You can't get away from me this time." And it didn't seem as if Jacko could. He tugged and strained at the ropes, but they were too tight. It looked as if he were going to be eaten up. Nearer and nearer came the alligator. He opened his big mouth, full of sharp, shining white teeth to bite Jacko, when, all of a sudden the monkey boy thought of the blown-up paper bag. "That's the thing," cried Jacko, and with that he clapped his paw down hard on the bag. "Bang!" it went, just like a cannon. My! how loud! "Oh, I'm shot! I'm killed! My double-jointed tail is blown off!" cried the alligator, and then, half frightened to death, he scurried off through the woods, taking his tail with him, for of course it wasn't blown off at all. So that's how the paper bag saved Jacko, and pretty soon his brother and the other Indians came back with their prisoners and the game was over. Then they untied Jacko and they all went to the home of the red and green monkeys, and Mrs. Kinkytail gave them all some bread and jam. She spread thirty-three loaves of bread and used up seventeen pots of jam before they had enough, and the alligator didn't have a smitch, I'm glad to say. And the next story will be about Jumpo and the green parrot--that is, if the window pane doesn't get the toothache in the night and cry like a baby so it wakes up the pussy cat. STORY VII JUMPO AND THE GREEN PARROT It was about three days and a half after the adventure with the alligator, when Jacko Kinkytail had scared the skillery-scalery creature by bursting the paper bag, and the two monkey brothers were coming home from school in the afternoon. "Did you miss any of your lessons today?" asked Jacko, as he twined his tail around a hickory nut on the ground, and picked it up so he could eat it--eat the nut, not the ground, you understand, of course. "I missed one example," answered Jumpo, "but it was very hard." "What was it?" inquired Jacko, as he cracked the hickory nut in his strong teeth. "It was this," spoke his brother: "If a boy has a chocolate ice cream cone, and his sister has two, how many oranges can you buy for a bag of peanuts when a stick of peppermint candy breaks in three pieces and one of them falls inside a lemon? Don't you think that's a hard example, Jacko?" [Illustration] "Indeed it is. Let me see, I think the answer is a pound of chocolate drops." "I thought it was a piece of cherry pie," went on the little green monkey, "but the teacher said it was a dozen of eggs, so I missed." "Never mind, as long as you didn't have to stay in," said Jacko. "Now let's hurry on and see who will get home first. You go one way and I'll go the other, and we'll race." This suited Jumpo all right, so off he started by the path that led through the woods, while Jacko took the road that led past the house of Grandfather Goosey Gander. And when Jacko reached there the old gentleman was just looking for some one to go to the store for him to get a pound of sugar. So Jacko went, and he earned a penny. Then he hurried home. But Jumpo hadn't yet reached there, and I'll have to tell you what happened to him. For a while the little green monkey boy hurried on through the woods. He was thinking how surprised Jacko would be to find his brother home ahead of him, and Jumpo was even planning to hide behind the rain water barrel and jump out to make-believe scare Jacko. Then, all of a sudden, as Jumpo went past a big rock he saw a nice big yellow orange on the ground. "Oh, joy!" exclaimed Jumpo. "I'll take that home and give Jacko half of it." But as Jumpo reached for the orange it suddenly rolled a short distance away from him, and he couldn't get it. "Ho, ho!" exclaimed the little green monkey. "That is odd. That must be one of those queer rolling oranges I have read about in fairy stories. But I'll get it yet." So he went forward very slowly and carefully, and, all of a sudden, he made another grab for the orange, but it rolled still farther away. "Hum!" exclaimed Jumpo. "This is strange. But I'll try again." So he tried once more, and, all this while, as he was reaching for the orange, he kept coming nearer and nearer to a big hollow stump. And Jumpo never noticed that there was a string tied to the orange, and that the orange was being pulled by a bad old wolf, who was hiding in the stump. You see that the wolf was so old that he couldn't walk around and catch his meals any more, so he took that plan of getting little animals to his den. Nearer and nearer rolled the orange to the stump, with Jumpo chasing it, and almost getting it at times. But he never really got it, and finally he was so close to the stump that the wicked wolf could reach out and grab the green monkey in his claws. "Oh, ho! Now I have you!" cried the bad wolf. "My orange trick was a good one," and he carefully put the orange and the string away on a shelf to use next time. "Was that you making the orange roll?" asked Jumpo, as he tried to get away, but couldn't. "It was," said the wolf, showing his sharp teeth. "Oh, please let me go!" begged Jumpo. "I was racing with my brother, to see who would get home first. Please let me go!" "No, indeed, I'll not," answered the wolf, "and if your brother ever comes past here I'll catch him also. Now, I'm going to lock you up in a dark closet until supper time." "Do you mean my supper time, or yours?" asked Jumpo, hoping there might be some mistake about it. "My supper time, of course," growled the wolf, and he was just going to shut Jumpo up in the dark closet, when he happened to look out, and he saw something green in a tree near the stump. Jumpo saw it, too. "Hum! That is queer," said the wolf. "There are no green leaves on the trees now, as it is getting close to winter. I wonder what it can be? But I have no time to bother with anything like that. I must make a hot fire to cook my monkey supper." Oh, how badly Jumpo felt at hearing that, and how hard he tried to get away from the wolf, but it was of no use. Then the monkey looked, when the wolf had his head turned to one side, and Jumpo saw that the green thing was a big poll parrot. "Save me! Save me!" cried Jumpo. The parrot just nodded his head, wise like, and hid behind the tree trunk. Then, all of a sudden, a voice cried: "Hey, Mr. Wolf, you let that monkey go!" "Was that you speaking?" asked the wolf, of Jumpo, for the wolf didn't see the parrot. "No," answered Jumpo, "I didn't speak," and the wolf thought it was very queer. Then the voice cried again: "Let that monkey go, or I'll shoot a lot of guns at you!" "Pooh. I'm not afraid," said the wolf, for he could not see anyone. Then, all of a sudden, the voice cried again: "Get ready now, fellows. Aim your guns right at that wolf, but don't shoot Jumpo! Ready! Aim! Fire! Bangity-bang-bang! Boom! Bang!" And it sounded like forty-'leven guns going off. My! How that parrot did yell! "Oh, don't shoot me! Don't shoot! I'll be good! Honest I will! I'll let the monkey go! Hurry, monkey, run along and tell them that I let you go!" begged the wolf, letting go of Jumpo. And you can believe that Jumpo hurried away from that stump. Then the green parrot hopped into sight on the limb of a tree and cried: "Ha! ha!! That's the time I fooled you, Mr. Wolf. It was I talking, and there aren't any fellows here with guns at all. But I made you let Jumpo go. Ha! Ha!" Then that wolf was so angry that he almost bit his own tail, but he couldn't catch Jumpo, and the green parrot went home with the monkey boy to see that no one hurt him. Then the parrot, after Jumpo and his brother and mother had thanked him, flew back to his cage, and that's the end of this story, if you please. The next one will be about the Kinkytails and the trained bear--that is, if our canary bird doesn't drop his seed dish in the sewing machine and break a needle. STORY VIII THE KINKYTAILS AND THE BEAR One day when the owl school teacher had heard the lessons of all her animal boy and girl pupils, she said: "You have been so good today that I am going to give you a little treat. Now, I will let Susie Littletail decide on what would be the nicest to do, have Uncle Wiggily Longears come over and tell you a story about his travels, or go for a walk in the woods and see if the chestnuts are ripe? Which shall it be, Susie?" "If you please," said the little rabbit girl. "I think it would be nice to go in the woods. Uncle Wiggily can tell us a story any time after dark, but we can't see to gather chestnuts at night. Let's go to the woods." "Very well," said the teacher. "Put away your books, pencils and papers and we will take a walk." So, in a little while, all the animal children were following the owl teacher out into the woods, where the leaves were beginning to turn brown and yellow and crimson, all ready to fall off, so the trees could go to sleep during the long, cold winter. Johnny Bushytail felt so good that he sang this song: "Oh, it's fine to be in the woody woods, When you're done with school and books. When the brown leaves rustle overhead, And kiss the babbling brooks. "The spicy wind blows full and free, And the nuts come rattling down On green moss, where the great trees grow, With their golden leaves and brown." "Indeed, it is fine," said the owl teacher. "Now scatter about, and see who can find the first nuts. But don't get lost." Of course Billie and Johnnie Bushytail, the squirrels, at once scrambled up the trees, and, naturally, they found the first nuts, but they kindly shared them with the others. Then Sammie and Susie Littletail went off one way, and Buddy and Brighteyes Pigg in another direction, and Lulu and Alice and Jimmie Wibblewobble, the duck children, in still another. And Peetie and Jackie Bow Wow, the puppy dogs, took a path right through the bramble bushes, looking for butternuts to spread on their bread, I guess. "Come on," said Jacko to Jumpo, as the two monkey boys walked side by side, "we'll go down by the little brook. I think there is a hickory nut tree there." "Are you sure there are no wolves or foxes there?" asked the green monkey. "I don't believe there are any," said the red monkey. "We'll get a lot of nuts and give the others some." So away they went through the forest, sometimes hanging by their tails from the low branches, sometimes turning somersaults and sometimes swinging by their feet, for they could hold on by their toes as well as you can by your fingers. "Oh, there's a nut tree!" suddenly exclaimed Jacko, as they got down by the little brook. "And see all the nuts!" cried Jumpo, for the ground was just covered with them. Then the monkey boys began filling their pockets. They had almost as many nuts as they could carry, and they were thinking of going back to join the others, for they could hear the teacher calling to the pupils some distance off in the woods. And then, all of a sudden, Jacko looked toward a big stump, and he exclaimed in a whisper to Jumpo: "Look at that big bear!" "Where?" asked Jumpo, getting close to his red brother. "There," whispered Jacko again, and he pointed toward the stump. Surely enough, there was a bear, wearing a blue cap and a pink coat. And, oh, what a big fellow he was! "He hasn't seen us," said Jumpo, in a low voice. "Perhaps we can get softly away before he does see us, and then we can tell the others to hurry out of the woods. Move very softly, Jacko." "I will," whispered the red monkey, and he tried to, but all at once some hickory nuts fell out of his pocket and they made quite a noise as they hit a flat stone. "Ha! Who's there?" asked the bear quickly, and he looked up, straight at the two monkeys. Then they could see that he had been reading a big book. "Who's there?" cried the bear again, in a sort of savage voice. "If--if you please, we are here," said Jacko. There was no use in saying they weren't there, for the bear could see them perfectly plain. "All right; I am coming over to you," went on the shaggy creature, closing his book. "Oh, oh, please don't come!" begged Jacko. "We can see you very well from here." "Oh! If he comes, he'll eat us, and then he'll hear the others shouting, and he'll go over and eat them and our teacher also," whispered Jumpo. "Oh, if we could only send them some word to warn them to run away!" "Why shouldn't I come over to you?" asked the bear. "Of course, I'm coming. Watch me." And with that he stood up on his head, and walked on his front paws and in that way he quickly came to where Jacko and Jumpo were standing. "I never saw a bear walk that way before," said the red monkey, surprised like. "Perhaps he is a crazy bear?" suggested Jumpo. "That kind is very savage. Oh, I know he'll eat us. Poor teacher, too!" By this time the bear was close to the monkeys. "I am very pleased to see you," he said in a growlery voice, and he turned a somersault, and stood on his left hind leg. Then he took off his blue cap in his claws, made a low bow, and began to dance around Jacko and Jumpo, at the same time humming a tune. "How's this?" asked the bear, as he stood on the end of his stubby tail, and opened his mouth real wide. "I call that a right clever trick myself, but what do you think of it?" "It--it is very pretty," said Jumpo. "But when--when are you going to eat us?" "Eat you! Why, bless my huckleberry pie appetite!" cried the bear kindly. "I never eat anything but popcorn balls. You haven't one about you I suppose?" and he stood on one ear and made a funny face, by twisting his tongue like a merry-go-round. "No, we have no popcorn balls," spoke Jacko. "But aren't you a savage bear?" "Not a bit of it!" roared the bear in a laughing voice. "I'm the jolliest trained bear you ever saw. I wouldn't hurt even a trolley car," and with that he did another dance, and sang such a funny song that Jacko and Jumpo burst out laughing. "Eat you!" cried the bear. "I never thought of such a thing. You see I work for a man who makes me do tricks all day long. So I never get any time for studying. But today I ran away and took my book with me. I'm studying up to be a cook, you see, and I want to learn how to make popcorn balls, so I won't have to buy any," and then he stood on one toenail and cracked a nut in his teeth. Well, of course, Jacko and Jumpo were glad they weren't going to be eaten up, and when the trained bear heard there were other pupils in the woods he went with the monkeys to where the rest of the animal children were and did for them all his tricks, and some more besides. Then the bear had to go back home, and so did the pupils and the owl teacher, and I guess you have to go to bed. Now I'm going to tell you next about the Kinkytails playing hide and go seek--that is, if the postage stamp doesn't stick on my spectacles so I can't see the gold fish jumping over the snail's back. STORY IX THE KINKYTAILS AT HIDE AND SEEK It was a rainy Saturday, and if there is anything worse than that I'd like to know it. You see you don't have to go to school, and you have all day to play, but when it rains--why, what can you do? Just answer me that, if you please. Ha! I knew you couldn't. Well, that's exactly how it was with Jacko and Jumpo Kinkytail, as they stood at the window of the little house up in the tree and looked at the rain drops splashing against the glass. "Oh, dear!" cried Jumpo. "Oh, dear!" groaned Jacko. "Oh, my!" exclaimed their mamma. "What poor, miserable little monkey boys you are to be sure!" "But there isn't anything to do," grumbled the red monkey. "And we can't go out because it is raining too hard," added the green monkey. "Suppose you help me with the housework," suggested Mamma Kinkytail. "After we get the breakfast dishes washed I'm going to make a cake and a pudding, and you may help me. But mind!" she said, shaking her tail at Jumpo, "you mustn't let the eggs or the sugar or the milk fall out of the house, as you once did with the cocoanut." "I won't," said Jumpo, and then he and his brother helped dry the dishes and set back the chairs, and when their mamma had swept the bungalow they dusted the piano. Then came the making of the cake and pudding. Of course, there were some dishes with nice sweet batter, and sugar and chocolate icing left in them, and Jacko and Jumpo cleaned these out so clean that there was hardly any need of washing them. By this time it was the dinner hour, and Mr. Kinkytail came home from the hand organ factory where he worked at making music. But in the afternoon it still rained harder than ever, and the monkey brothers stood at the window and looked at the splashing drops, and cried "Oh, Dear!" so often that finally their mamma said: "I'm going to telephone over for the Wibblewobble children to come and play with you. Those ducks won't mind the rain a bit, for it will run right off their backs. You can play in the house, and I can have some peace and quietness to get my mending done. I'll telephone right away." So Mrs. Kinkytail telephoned, and Mrs. Wibblewobble said the duck children could come right over. Jacko and Jumpo watched for them at the window and soon they saw Jimmie and his two sisters paddling through the mud puddles. "What shall we play?" asked Jacko, when the visitors had shaken the water off their feathers, after having flown up into the tree-bungalow. "Tag," said Alice Wibblewobble, as she looked to see if her hair ribbon was on straight. "No, there isn't room for that," spoke Lulu. "I think hide-and-seek would be better. We can play that, can't we, Mrs. Kinkytail?" "Oh, yes," said the monkey mamma as she mended one of Jumpo's torn stockings. "A ball game would be lots of fun," said Jimmy, the boy duck, "but then I s'pose we might break a window. It will have to be hide-and-seek." So they got ready to play. First Lulu covered her eyes and she called out: "Ready or not I'm coming!" Then she went to find the others. She easily found Alice, who was standing up behind the flour barrel. "I might have crawled under the barrel, only I was afraid of spoiling my new sky-blue-pink hair ribbon," said Alice. Then Lulu found Jimmie hiding under the couch in the dining-room and Jumpo she discovered as he was trying to wiggle farther in behind an old looking-glass in the hall. "Now if I find Jacko," said she, "I'll have everybody, and it will be Alice's turn to hunt for us. I wonder where Jacko can be?" She looked all over, taking care not to go too far away from "home," for if the red monkey got a chance he could run in and touch the table, which was "home," and then he would be "in free." "I don't know where he is," said Jimmie. Neither did Alice or Jumpo. Jacko had gone off by himself, and he was well hidden. Lulu looked everywhere. She even looked inside the flour barrel, as if the red monkey would hide in there and get all white. And she took the cork out of the molasses jug, and tried to look down inside the sticky place, as if Jacko would go down there and get all stuck up. "Oh, I'm going to give up," said Lulu at last. "Oh, no, we'll all help you look," said the other children, and they all joined in. But what had happened to Jacko, I suppose you are wondering. Well, I'll tell you. He had gone up to the attic and there he found a big empty trunk. "This will be a fine place to hide," he said, so in he crawled, and closed down the lid. It snapped shut, but Jacko didn't mind. He thought he could open it when he wanted to. However, after a while he got tired of hiding, especially when Lulu couldn't find him, and he decided to come out. Only he couldn't. He tried to open the cover, but it was shut fast. Then Jacko became scared. He pushed and he pushed, but the trunk cover held tight. Then he called out as loud as he could, but the dust got up his nose, and his voice was very faint and far away. He even tried to put the end of his tail in the keyhole and open the lock of the trunk, but he couldn't. He heard Lulu and the others come up in the attic to find him, and he called: "Here I am!" But they were laughing and shouting and making so much noise that they never heard him. "Oh, I guess I'll have to stay here forever!" thought poor Jacko. "Oh, if I could only get out!" Then he heard a little noise in one corner of the trunk, and he thought at first it was a fox. Then he knew a fox could never get in the trunk, and he looked and saw a little gray animal. "I'll help you out of the trunk," said the animal; and who was it but Jillie Longtail, the girl mouse. Quickly Jillie gnawed a hole in the trunk. At first it wasn't large enough for Jacko to get out, but the mouse soon made it larger, and then the monkey boy could crawl out, and after thanking Jillie, he hurried down the stairs, glad enough to be free from the stuffy trunk. My! How surprised the others were to see him, for they were becoming much frightened, and Jacko's mamma said he must never do a thing like that again. And he never did. Then they all had some bread and jam, and pretty soon it stopped raining. So that's all this story, but the next will be about Jumpo and Uncle Wiggily--that is, if the fish peddler doesn't blow his horn loud enough to wake up the kittie cat who goes to sleep in the doll's carriage every day. STORY X JUMPO AND UNCLE WIGGILY It was almost time for school to be out, and nearly all the pupils were sitting quietly at their desks. The owl school teacher was just hearing the geography class recite, and that was the last lesson of the day. "Jacko Kinkytail," spoke the teacher, as she took up a piece of red chalk, "where do cocoanuts grow?" "In our house," said Jacko very quickly. "Why, the idea!" exclaimed the teacher. "I mean in what _country_ do cocoanuts grow?" "Well, I'm sure they grow in our house," said the red monkey, "because I saw one there to-day. My mamma is going to make a cake of it." Of course all the children laughed at that, and the teacher had to laugh also, though she didn't exactly want to. "Well, Jacko, you may go home," she said suddenly, "and so may all of you. School is out. Now be on time to-morrow, and, Jacko, you must take your geography, when you get home, and find out where cocoanuts really come from." So when Jacko and Jumpo were walking home together the red monkey asked his green brother where he thought cocoanuts came from. "The grocery store, of course," said the green monkey, quickly. "I should have thought you'd have known that. Didn't you go to the store for some the other day, and didn't the grocery man have a lot of them in a barrel? Cocoanuts grow in barrels in the store, of course." "Oh, why didn't I think of that?" cried Jacko. "I'll tell the teacher to-morrow. But now let's have a race, and we'll see who'll be the first to get to the old black stump where the giant used to eat his dinner." "All right," agreed Jumpo. So off they started. First Jacko was ahead, and then he accidentally got a stone in his shoe and had to stop to take it out, so Jumpo got ahead. And then, as the green monkey was going through a dark part of the woods, he saw something crawling under the leaves. "Oh, maybe it's a snake!" exclaimed Jumpo. "I'm going to wait until Jacko catches up to me." So he waited and waited, but no Jacko came. In fact, Jacko had got tired of playing the racing game, and he had gone home another way. Then Jumpo thought he would be brave, and go over by himself to see what was moving under the leaves. And, if you will believe me, it was nothing but a harmless snail, crawling along with his shell house on his back. "How silly of me to be frightened!" cried Jumpo, with a laugh. "After this I'm first going to see what it is, and get frightened afterward; that is, if there is anything to scare me." So he said "How-de-do" to the snail, and then the monkey boy went on toward home. Over the hills, up and down, among the trees, hopping across little brooks he went, until pretty soon, just as he was coming out of the woods he heard a loud, banging noise. "That's a gun!" cried Jumpo. "A gun, and some one is out shooting. Oh, I must be careful or I'll be shot." So the poor monkey boy hid down behind a rock and waited. And then, all of a sudden, there came another bangity-bang-bung noise and some one shouted out loud: "My, I nearly got it that time!" "Worse and worse!" thought poor Jumpo, shivering. "They are coming after me." Then he saw something moving behind a stump, and a big, ugly fox looked out at him. "Oh, this is terrible!" cried the green monkey. "I can't stay here or the fox will get me, and if I go out of the woods the man with the gun will shoot me. What shall I do? Perhaps the man may be kind, and let me go. I think I'll go out so the fox won't eat me." And Jumpo leaped out only just in time, for the fox saw him then, and made a jump for him. And there came another bangity-bung-bang noise, and Jumpo shivered again. When he got out in the field, just beyond the woods, he looked for a man with a gun, but he could see no one. Down the road, however, he did see a friend he knew, and it was no one else than Uncle Wiggily Longears, the old gentleman rabbit. And Uncle Wiggily was standing beside something with four big wheels and a black front on it, and it had a wheel up by the seat, and a lot of shiny things on it, and there was a smell like gasoline coming from it. "My! I wonder what it is that Uncle Wiggily has?" thought the green monkey. "It looks like a carriage, but there is no horse to it. However, I'm going to ask him to save me from the man with the gun." And as Jumpo ran toward the old gentleman rabbit, once more there sounded that banging noise, and the monkey saw Uncle Wiggily jump back very quickly. "Why, it's Uncle Wiggily who is shooting!" cried Jumpo. "Oh, you Uncle Wiggily!" called the monkey. "Please don't shoot me!" "Shoot! I'm not going to shoot anybody," said the rabbit. "I'd like to shoot my automobile, though, for it won't go, and it is making those banging noises like a gun. I never saw such a machine--never in all my travels to seek my fortune. Here I am--stuck!" "Oh, ho! An automobile, eh?" cried Jumpo. "Yes," said the rabbit, "since I got so rich I bought one of them, and now I wish I hadn't. Here I am, miles from home, and I can't get it to go. I've twisted the thing-a-ma-bob, and poured oil down the what-is-it, and squirted gasoline on the dingus-dingus, and wiggled the touch-me-not, and jiggled the who-is-it and even tickled the tinkerum-tankerum. Still it won't go, and it keeps making that bang-bang noise like a gun whenever I turn the crank. Oh, and my rheumatism hurts me so! And I'm so tired!" "Perhaps I can help," said Jumpo. "Does that crank in front make music like a hand organ?" "I only wish it did," spoke the rabbit, as he gave it another twist. But there was only another bang. "I give up!" cried Uncle Wiggily. "That crank doesn't do anything." "Never mind!" cried Jumpo. "I'll help you home. You sit up in the auto and steer it, and I'll get a rope and pull you home along the road, and you'll be there in time for supper." Well, the rabbit gentleman didn't believe the green monkey was strong enough to pull the heavy car, but Jumpo was, and soon the auto and Jumpo and Uncle Wiggily were safe home, and the auto man soon had the machine fixed, so it would run like an alarm clock. And that night Uncle Wiggily came to the monkey boys' house, and gave them each a peppermint candy and told them a story before they went to bed. And, in case the man across the street, who has an auto, doesn't put one of the big rubber tires on our front doorknob, to make it look like a doughnut, I'll tell you another story on the next page. It will be about Jumpo and Susie Littletail. STORY XI JUMPO AND SUSIE LITTLETAIL It had rained quite hard in the night and when Jacko and Jumpo Kinkytail, after they had gone to bed, suddenly woke up in the darkness and heard the drops pattering on the roof, the little red monkey boy said to his green brother: "Oh, dear! Now we can't go off in the woods to-morrow and take our lunch and play camping, as we were going to do." "No; isn't it too bad?" agreed Jumpo. "It always seems to rain at the wrong time, doesn't it?" "Come, come!" exclaimed Mr. Kinkytail, who was in the next room. "You boys must go to sleep. The sun may shine to-morrow. Don't grumble and find fault ahead of time." And surely enough, the sun was shining brightly the next morning, and as it was Saturday the Kinkytails didn't have to go to school. "Oh, goody!" exclaimed Jacko as he leaped out of bed and saw what a fine day it was. The rain had washed everything nice and clean, and it was just lovely out-of-doors. "Now, let's hurry and get our breakfasts," said Jumpo. "Then we'll pack up our lunch and stay all day in the woods." "And gather chestnuts and bring them home and roast and boil them!" exclaimed Jacko, for monkeys are very fond of chestnuts, you know. Oh, my, yes! and some sweet potatoes also. Pretty soon the two monkey boys started off for the woods, and each one had a little package of lunch. On and on they went, and in a short time they were quite a distance from home, but that didn't matter, as they knew the way back. They looked at the different trees in search of chestnuts, but for some time they didn't find any. "I tell you what let's do," suggested Jacko. "I'll go off on this path to the right, and you take the one to the left, and whoever finds a lot of chestnuts first can holler. Then, if it's you, I'll come and help you gather them, but if I find them, then you must come and help me." "Good!" cried Jumpo. "We'll do it!" So Jumpo went to the left path and Jacko took the one on the right. Well, Jacko hadn't gone very far before he came to a tree, and under it was a whole pile of chestnuts, all nicely gathered together. "Oh, ho! This is fine!" cried the monkey boy. "Hello, Jumpo!" he called, as loudly as he could. "Come here!" "What do you want Jumpo for?" asked a voice in a tree overhead, and there was an old gentleman squirrel with a small sack on his back. "I want him to help me pick up these chestnuts," said Jacko. "Oh, but those are _my_ chestnuts," said the squirrel. "I have gathered them to eat during the winter. I'm sure you wouldn't want to take them away from me." "No, indeed," said the red monkey politely. "I didn't know they were yours." "Then I'll show you where there are a lot more," said the squirrel gentleman, "and you can gather them for yourself." The squirrel took the monkey boy to another place in the woods, and oh! what a pile of chestnuts were there. Jacko called for Jumpo as hard as he could, but the green monkey didn't come. "Perhaps he has found some nuts for himself," thought Jacko. "Very well, I'll gather these, and wait until he comes." But Jumpo was having quite an adventure by himself, and I'll tell you about it. He walked along and along, after Jacko had left him, but he couldn't find even a last year's chestnut burr, and he felt quite badly about it. Then, all of a sudden he heard a voice singing. And this was the song: "Dear little dollie go fast asleep, Mamma is here, so don't cry or weep. Stand on your toes--wiggle your nose, Then I will dust all the rooms as I sweep. "See the blue lion a-switching his tail, Hear how he roars inside the milk pail. The elephant, dear, will flap his big ear, And then the old babboon will go for a sail." "Well, did you ever hear the like of that!" exclaimed Jumpo. "I'd better look out. There must be a whole circus over there. But I don't see how a dollie can wiggle her nose, nor how a lion can roar inside a milk pail, nor yet why the old babboon should want to go sailing. I'd better go back home while I have the chance. That may be the burglar fox singing." But the green monkey took one peep through the bushes, and there he saw Susie Littletail, the little rabbit girl, rocking her dollie in a hammock made from a grape vine, and it was Susie who had been singing the funny song. Just as she started on the forty-'leventh verse Jumpo came out from where he was hiding, and exclaimed: "Why, Susie Littletail! How glad I am to see you! What are you doing here?" "Oh, I came out to give my dollie an airing in the woods," said the little rabbit girl, as she hurried forward to speak to the green monkey. And then, when she turned back again, to swing the hammock, lo and behold! her dollie was nowhere to be seen. "Why--why, that's queer," said Susie. "Did you take my dollie, Jumpo?" "No, indeed," answered the green monkey. "Perhaps she has fallen out of the hammock." So they looked under the hammock, but the doll wasn't there. Then they looked all over, and in many other places, but that dollie had disappeared, which means gone away. "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Susie, beginning to cry. "She was my best dollie, and now she is dead and I'll never see her again. Oh, boo-hoo, boo-hoo! Why did I ever bring her here?" "Don't cry," said Jumpo kindly, "I'll help you look for her." So he looked in all the places he could think of but it was of no use. "Oh, I just know a bad giant has taken her!" cried Susie. "Or else it was an eagle." "I didn't see anything like that," spoke Jumpo. "But maybe the burglar fox came up softly when we weren't looking and took her." Then he called out: "Say, Mr. Burglar Fox, if you don't give back Susie's doll I'll have you arrested!" There was no answer, but a moment later there was a rustling up in an oak tree which had some brown leaves on it, and then Jumpo caught a glimpse of the doll's blue dress, and he also saw a big crawly snake, with his tail wound around a limb of the tree, and that snake was holding the doll fast in his coils. He had reached down and taken the doll when Susie wasn't looking. "Oh, the snake has your doll!" cried Jumpo. "And how shall I ever get her?" asked the rabbit girl. "Leave it to me," said Jumpo. "You'll never get this doll," hissed the snake, like a steam radiator. But Jumpo knew a good trick. He went off in the woods until he met a cow. And he asked the cow for some milk and the cow gave him a whole pailful. Then Jumpo went back and put the pail of milk where the snake could see it. Now you know snakes like milk better than anything--better even than boys and girls like ice cream cones. So as soon as the snake in the tree saw the milk, he at once let go of the doll, uncoiled himself, and hurried down for the milk, before the cow could take it away. "Oh, now I have my dollie back!" cried Susie in delight, and she quickly caught and hugged Clotilde Raspberry Shortcake, which was the doll's name, and then Susie and Jumpo ran away before the snake could get them, and they found Jacko, and each had a lot of chestnuts. So that's how Jumpo helped Susie Littletail, and that's all there is to this story. But the next one will be about Jacko and the little mouse--that is, if the water pitcher doesn't turn over and go to sleep in the baby's crib and scare the gold fish. [Illustration] STORY XII JACKO AND THE LITTLE MOUSE "Jacko, will you go to the store for me?" called Mamma Kinkytail to the little red monkey one afternoon when he had come home from school. "Yes, mother," he said. "What do you want?" "Well, I need a dozen cocoanuts and two pounds of sugar, and some chocolate and some flour." "Oh, you must be going to make a cake!" cried the monkey boy, tying two hard knots in his tail. "You have guessed it," answered his mother. "Hurry now, and the cake will be baked in time for supper." "Oh, but I wish Jumpo was here to go with me," said Jacko, as he started off. "Why?" asked his mother. "Because if I carry such nice things as cocoanuts and sugar and chocolate, a burglar may take them away from me on my way home." "Nonsense!" said his mother. "Burglars don't want such things as that. Besides, it is daylight, and burglars don't come around then." "I was thinking of the burglar fox," went on Jacko. "However, Jumpo isn't here, as he went over to play ball with Bully No-Tail, the frog. So I'll have to go alone." Off he started, and of course, he wasn't a bit afraid going to the store, for he had nothing with him but the money, and that was away down at the bottom of his pocket, and Jacko held his little brown paw tightly over the coins, so they couldn't jump out. Then he reached the store, and gave the money to the grocery man. "Now don't drop the cocoanuts," said the grocery man, as he made up a package of the nice things Jacko had bought. "Can you carry all of them?" "Oh, yes," said the monkey boy, confident like, which means sure. "And do you think you could also carry two sticks of candy, one for yourself and one for your brother Jumpo?" asked the grocery man, sort of smiling. "Well, I'll try--very hard," answered Jacko, and he wondered why the grocery man laughed. Then the man took from a jar two red and white striped sticks of candy. One of these sticks Jacko put safely in his pocket for his green brother, and the other he ate slowly, as he started for home. He was so interested in the stick of candy that he never even thought of the burglar fox. But all of a sudden Jacko looked around in surprise, and he found that he had taken the wrong path home. It was one that led through the woods, and right past the house of the burglar fox. "But there is no use now in going back around the other way," thought the red monkey; "it will take too long, and mamma won't get the cake baked for supper. I'll keep on this way, and I'll run past the burglar fox's house so fast that he can't see me. I guess it will be all right." So, taking tight hold of his bundle of cocoanuts and sugar and chocolate and flour, and holding fast to the candy stick, Jacko went on. Pretty soon he came to the house where the fox lived, and then the monkey boy got ready to run as fast as he could. But, all of a sudden, when he was right in front of the house, he heard a voice crying: "Help! Help! Oh, will some one please help me?" "Hark! I wonder who that can be?" thought Jacko. "It doesn't sound like the voice of the fox, and yet he may be calling to play a trick and get me in there so he can eat me. I guess I'd better run on." So he started to run, but he heard the voice again, a sad, squeaky sort of voice, and it cried: "Oh, do please some one help me!" "That isn't the fox," said Jacko bravely. "I'm going in to help whoever it is. Perhaps it is one of the Bushytail brothers." Into the house he went, and he saw no signs of the fox. Then Jacko, standing in the front hall, called out: "Who are you and what is the trouble?" "Oh, I'm a poor little mouse," was the answer, "and I'm caught in a trap in this fox's house. Please help me out." "Is the fox home?" asked Jacko. "No, he has gone out to get a friend of his, and then they are coming back to eat me. Hurry and you can get me out before they come back, and then we'll run away together." "I will," said Jacko bravely, so he ran to where he could hear the mousie scurrying around in the trap, which was in a room upstairs in the house of the fox. Well, it didn't take Jacko long, with his nimble fingers and toes, and his long tail, to get the little mouse out of the trap. Then, when she walked over toward a window, the monkey said: "Why, I do believe you are little Squeaky-Eeky, the cousin mouse of Jollie and Jillie Longtail." "That's just who I am," said the mouse. "You see, I was going past this house, and I smelled cheese. I didn't know the fox lived here, so I came in, and then I was caught in the trap." "But now you're free," said Jacko. "Come on, and we will hurry away before the fox and his friend get back." They started down the stairs, but just then there was a noise outside, and Squeaky-Eeky, looking from the window, cried: "Too late! Here come the two foxes." Then Jacko heard a voice saying: "Walk right upstairs, Mr. Robber Fox; I have a fine meal waiting for you in my trap." "Oh, what shall we do?" whispered Squeaky-Eeky. "Leave it to me," spoke Jacko in a whisper. Then he quickly opened the bag and took out two cocoanuts. He peered over the edge of the stairs until he saw the two foxes coming up and then the brave monkey rolled the cocoanuts down. Bumpity-bump-bump! they went, rolling right down the stairs, and they hit the foxes and knocked them over backward. "Oh, it's thundering, and the thunder is in the house!" cried the burglar fox. "Come on, quick!" Then, as the burglar fox and the robber fox ran away Jacko threw some flour and sugar after them. "Oh, it's snowing and hailing!" cried the robber fox, as he jumped out of the front door. "We'll freeze to death! Hurry! Hurry!" Then Jacko tossed some brown chocolate at the bad foxes, out of the window. "Oh, it's raining mud!" they both cried, and away they ran faster than ever, and then Jacko and Squeaky-Eeky could come safely down stairs, Jacko picking up the two cocoanuts on the way. So that's how Jacko saved the little mousie girl, and there were still plenty of things left with which to make the cake. And Mamma Kinkytail gave Squeaky-Eeky some, and Jumpo gave her some of his candy. So everything came out all right, you see. And if the lead pencil doesn't dance the fox trot on the bread board and mark it all over with black ink I'll tell you next about Papa Kinkytail and Grandpa Goosey Gander. STORY XIII PAPA KINKYTAIL AND GOOSEY GANDER "Come, Mr. Kinkytail," said Mrs. Kinkytail to her husband one morning after breakfast, "it is time for you to go to your work in the hand-organ factory." "Oh, I'm not going to work to-day," said the papa monkey, as he slowly folded the news-paper inside out so that he might read about whether it was going to rain or snow. "Why aren't you going to work?" asked the monkey mamma. "Because," answered her husband, "something is the matter with one of the music machines, and the engineer has to fix it. So the factory is closed, and I have a vacation. And, as it is Saturday, I'll take the boys for a walk." "Oh, goody!" exclaimed Jacko Kinkytail. "That will be fine!" shouted Jumpo, and he tied his tail in such a hard knot in his excitement that his mamma almost had to cut the knot out with the scissors. But finally it was loosened with a knitting needle. "Come on, boys," said their papa. "The paper says it will be a fair day, so we will go off in the woods. And, who knows? Perhaps we may have an adventure." It was a fine, cool day, and the monkey boys and their papa hurried along. Soon they came to the woods, where the ground was all covered with leaves that rustled under foot like tissue paper in a box of candy. "Oh, look there!" suddenly exclaimed Jacko in a whisper. "There is a big elephant!" "Where?" asked his brother, and the red monkey pointed off through the woods. Surely enough, there was something that looked like an elephant with a bushel of peanuts on his back. "Why, that's not an elephant," said Mr. Kinkytail, when he had looked most carefully, "that is only a stump, though I admit there is something about it that seems like an elephant's trunk. Well, that was almost an adventure. Come along, and after a while we may have a real one." On they walked a little farther, and, all of a sudden Jumpo stopped and grasped his brother by the paw. "Look," whispered the green monkey. "Isn't that a big lion over there?" "Sure enough it is!" exclaimed Jacko, as he looked toward where his brother pointed. "Nonsense!" cried Mr. Kinkytail, as he saw the object. "It is only a pile of yellow leaves, though it is big enough for a lion, and the same color. But soon we may have a real adventure." So they went on some more--about as far as two oranges and half a banana--and, all at once, all three saw something moving in the bushes, and they knew that was real, for the bushes wiggled to and fro like a rabbit's ears. "Look out!" exclaimed Mr. Kinkytail, and the next instant they saw Grandfather Goosey Gander come waddling out, with his shiny, tall, silk hat on his head. "Why, how do you do?" asked the old gentleman goose, as he walked toward them. "I'm real glad to see you, as I am quite lonesome. I guess I'll--" But Grandfather Goosey Gander didn't have time to say what he was going to guess, for at that very particular instant a big, fat cow, with two crumpled horns, stepped out from behind a tree, and with one swoop she grabbed Grandfather Goosey Gander's tall hat in her mouth. "Why, the very idea!" exclaimed Grandfather Goosey. "The very idea! To take my hat! How dare you! What do you want with it?" "I want it for a milk pail, to be sure," said the cow, as she stuck the hat on one of her horns. "I want to take some milk to a sick cousin of mine, and I need a pail in which to carry it. This tall hat will do very nicely." "Why, the very preposterous idea!" gasped the gander gentleman. "My fine silk hat to be used as a milk pail! I'll never allow it--never!" "Ah, but you see you can't help yourself," said the cow, as she hung the tall hat on the branch of a tree, and sat down under it to rest. "I'm going to walk away, directly, with your hat, and don't you dare come here and get it, for I'll jiggle you with my crumpled horns if you do," went on the cow supercilious like which means sort of proud. "That's right, she will," whispered Mr. Kinkytail. "You must let her have her way, grandfather." "But my nice, tall silk hat!" objected Grandfather Goosey Gander. "I can't let her have it. I need it to wear to church, and also down to the bank when I go to put in my money. Oh, this is terrible! I must get it." He started toward the tree, where his hat was hanging, but the cow got up and shook her crumpled horns at him in such a savage way that he was afraid to go any farther. "Perhaps I can get it," whispered Jumpo. So he crept up behind the tree, thinking he could grab the hat away, but the cow heard him, and almost snitched him with one horn. Then Jacko tried, by climbing up one tree, and getting ready to drop down into the other one where the hat was. But the cow heard him and she almost kerfuddled him with her left crinkly horn, so that plan failed. "I think I know a way to get your hat," said Mr. Kinkytail at last. "Oh, if you only can I will be so thankful!" cried Mr. Gander. "You stay here with Jacko and Jumpo," said the monkey boys' father, "and watch the cow so that she doesn't run away with the hat. Jacko, you and your brother make some funny faces, and do some funny tricks so the cow will be interested in watching you and will stay. I'll go off and get something I need." So the monkey boys did a lot of tricks for the cow. Jumpo made a face like half a cherry pie, and Jacko did the trick of standing on his two ears and making a noise like a trolley car. It was too funny for anything, and the cow was real interested. Then, all of a sudden, off in the woods there sounded the music of a hand organ. And the tune it played was one called "I'm a Yellow-striped Tiger and I'm Very Savage Now, So I Think I'll Make a Sandwich of a Crinkled-crumpled Cow!" Well, as soon as the cow heard that, up she jumped, crying out: "No you don't, Mr. Tiger! You can't catch me!" And with that the cow with the crimpled-crumpled horns ran off in the woods, leaving Grandfather Goosey Gander's tall hat hanging on the tree. And then, from the other side of the woods, came Mr. Kinkytail, and it was he who had played the hand organ to scare the cow. He had hurried to the factory to get the music machine just especially for that. "Now your hat is safe, Mr. Gander," said the papa monkey, and soon Jacko had scrambled up and got it, and then the goosey grandfather and the monkey boys took turns playing the hand organ until it was time to go home. But I see it's your bedtime, so I can't tell any more stories for a while. The one on the next page will be about Mrs. Kinkytail and Aunt Lettie the lady goat--that is, if the dining-room table doesn't put its legs down the back of the chair and tickle it so it sneezes its seat off. STORY XIV JUMPO AND THE CHESTNUT BURR "Who wants to do something for me?" called Mamma Kinkytail to her two monkey boys as they came home from school one afternoon. "I do!" chattered Jacko, the red chap. "So do I," exclaimed Jumpo, the green chap. "That's what I love to hear," said their mamma, real pleased like. "Well, now, I have two things I want done. Some one has to go to the store for a pound of butter, and the other one I would like to have take some jam tarts over to Uncle Wiggily Longears, the rabbit gentleman. He is not feeling so very well, and I thought the tarts would make him better." "Oh, I'll go to Uncle Wiggily's," cried both boys at once. The reason for this was that the old gentleman rabbit always gave his animal boy or girl visitors some chocolate peppermints, or marshmallow candies, or something like that, and of course Jacko and Jumpo were always glad to go to his house. That's why they both spoke at once. "Now, that's too bad!" exclaimed Mamma Kinkytail. "Only one of you can take the jam tarts over, because there won't be time, after you come back, to go to the store for the pound of butter. So I guess you will have to draw straws to see who goes to Uncle Wiggily's." "Draw straws! What's that?" asked Jumpo, curious like. "It's this way," his mamma explained. "I will hold two straws in my paw so that you can only see the tip ends of them. One straw will be short, and the other long. Then, Jumpo, you can draw one straw out of my paw, and Jacko can take the other. Of course, you can't see which is the long or which is the short one, and that will be perfectly fair, as the tip ends look just alike. Then, whoever pulls out the long straw can take the jam tarts to Uncle Wiggily." Well, the monkey boys thought that would be nice, so they drew the straws, one after the other, and Jumpo got the long one. "Oh, goody!" he cried. "I'm to go to Uncle Wiggily's." "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Jacko, and he felt a bit badly at having to go to the store. But then he soon became pleasant again, and said: "Never mind, it will be my turn next time." "Of course," agreed Jumpo, "and if Uncle Wiggily gives me anything, I'll save you half, Jacko." So off the two brothers started, one going one way to the grocery and the other in a different direction to the house of the old gentleman rabbit. And Jumpo carried the tarts very carefully, so as not to spill out a bit of the jam. It didn't take Jacko long to get to the store and buy the butter. And on his way home a big wolf chased after him. But what do you s'pose the monkey boy did? Why, he just spread a little of the butter on the path behind him, and made it so slippery that the wolf slid all over as he ran, and so he couldn't catch Jacko. But I must tell you what happened to Jumpo. The little monkey walked on and on through the woods, and he was thinking of how nice it was under the trees. Every once in a while he would pick up a chestnut to eat, and this took him so long that soon he noticed it was getting dark. "Oh, I must hurry faster than this," he said, and then, holding the basket of jam tarts under his paw, he fairly ran on. And then, all of a sudden, he saw a big chestnut burr on the ground in front of him. The burr wasn't open yet, and it had a stem, like a handle to pick it up by, so the stickers wouldn't stick you. "Oh, there must be at least three big chestnuts in that burr," thought Jumpo. "I'll pick that up, and then I won't stop a bit more." So he picked up the chestnut burr, and on he hurried to Uncle Wiggily's house. But he got a bit tired just as he was almost out of the woods, and he thought he'd sit down to rest for only a few seconds. So Jumpo was sitting on a flat stone, looking at the chestnut burr and wondering if perhaps there might not be four brown, shining nuts inside, when, all at once, he heard a rustling in the leaves beside him. "Hark! What's that?" he cried as he leaped up and looked at the basket of jam tarts which he had set down. "Perhaps that is some of the tarts trying to jump out," he said. Then he looked again, and what he saw frightened him very much. For there was a big, fat, crawly snake on the ground moving toward the basket of jam tarts. "Oh, ho!" exclaimed the snake, sticking out his tongue, which was like a fork--in two parts. "I'm glad I happened to come this way." Then he wound his pointed tail around the handle of the basket, and hissed: "I am very fond of jam--especially in nice flaky tarts." "Do you--do you happen to mean these tarts?" asked Jumpo, sort of sad-like. "Indeed, I do," answered the snake, and then he stood upon the end of his tail on the cover of the basket and sang: "Oh, I am happy, light and free, Jam tarts are the things for me. I eat them morning, noon and night, For jam tarts, they are my delight." Then that snake began to lift off the cover of the basket to get at the tarts, and Jumpo cried: "But those are for Uncle Wiggily, if you please, Mr. Snake." "Oh, what do I care?" asked the snake, most impolitely. "I will eat these tarts, and then I will eat you." Well, of course Jumpo felt dreadfully on hearing that, and he was wondering how Uncle Wiggily would feel not to get the tarts, when, all of a sudden, the monkey boy thought of the sticky chestnut burr he still held. "I'll fix that snake!" he cried. And then, just as the snake was going to eat the tarts Jumpo threw the sharp burr at the wiggly, crawly creature. The prickly stickers went into his skin, next to his forty-'leven ribs and land sakes goodness me and some roast peanuts! That snake was so tickled that he laughed and he sneezed and he coughed and splittered and spluttered, and he fell over backwards off the basket of jam tarts, turning a somersault. Then Jumpo saw his chance. He made a grab for the basket and ran off with it before the snake had finished sneezing and laughing and coughing, and so the crawly creature couldn't catch him. Then the green monkey boy went on to Uncle Wiggily's house and gave him the tarts. The old gentleman rabbit was very glad to get them, and after thanking Jumpo gave him ten peppermint candies--five for himself and five for Jacko. And then Uncle Wiggily sent a policeman dog back with Jumpo, so the snake wouldn't hurt him, but the crawly creature had to go to a dentist to have the chestnut burr stickers pulled out of his ribs and so he wasn't able to catch anybody that night. And that will be all for this evening, if you don't mind. Now for the next story how about Jacko and the roast chestnuts, eh? Well, that's what it will be if the ashman doesn't take our door mat to make a pair of roller skates for the pussy cat so she can play tag with the puppy dog. STORY XV JACKO AND THE ROAST CHESTNUTS "Who wants to stay in this afternoon, and help me clean the blackboards?" asked the owl lady teacher one day as it was almost time for the animal pupils to go home. "I do!" cried Jacko and Jumpo Kinkytail. "I do!" cried Jackie and Peetie Bow Wow the puppy dog boys. "So do I!" exclaimed Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, the squirrels. And all the other children, including the three Wibblewobbles, Dottie and Munchie Trot, Buddy and Brighteyes Pigg--all of them--said they also would be glad to help teacher. "But I only need one," said the owl lady, "and as Jacko has been a very good boy lately I'll let him stay." Well, of course the others were somewhat disappointed, which means sorry, but there was no help for it, and they always did as teacher told them to, except sometimes, but this was not one of those times. So they all went out, leaving Jacko the monkey boy and the teacher in the schoolroom, with the blackboards all covered with words, and sentences, and examples, and number work and maps of different countries, including the one where cocoanuts grow. Jacko took the erasers and a cloth and so did the teacher and they began work. The red monkey boy could hear the other animal chaps playing ball outside, and getting ready to fly their kites, and the girls were shouting and giggling and screaming like anything, and they didn't know why they did it, either, but girls most always scream, you know. "They are having lots of fun," said the owl teacher to Jacko, "aren't you sorry you stayed in to help me?" "No'm," said Jacko, politely, and he brushed the chalk marks off the blackboards harder than ever. Then, after a while, when there was only one more board left to clean, the teacher said: "Well, Jacko, thank you very much. You have been a great help to me. Run along now and have a good time." But it was getting late then, and the other animal boys and girls had gone home. So Jacko, putting his books in a loop in his kinky tail, also started for his house. He had to go through rather a dark piece of woods, but he didn't mind that, for he made up his mind to run as fast as he could, so the burglar fox, or the wolf, wouldn't get him. And pretty soon he came to the woods, so, holding his books tighter than ever in his tail, away he started. And, just as he got to a hollow stump a voice called to him: "Hold on there, Jacko Kinkytail! Wait a minute!" "Indeed, I will not!" cried Jacko, thinking it was the burglar fox, but he happened to look back, and he saw that it was a kind old gentleman squirrel, who was perched on the stump, eating a butternut. "I just thought you might be hungry, and would like some chestnuts," went on the squirrel. "I have more than I need. Help yourself to a handful." "Thank you, I will," said Jacko, so he took some chestnuts for himself, and some for his brother Jumpo. Then Jacko hurried on, as it was getting darker, and on the way he ate some of the chestnuts. And, whether it was because he was frightened, or because he was so busy eating the chestnuts and throwing away the shells, I can't say for sure--at any rate poor Jacko was soon lost in the woods, with night coming on, and he couldn't find the right path. It wasn't because Jacko didn't look for the path home that he couldn't find it; no, indeed, for he searched as hard as ever a monkey boy could. But that path stayed lost. "Oh, dear! What shall I do?" said the red monkey finally. "I'm afraid I'll have to stay in these woods forever, and never see my mamma or papa or brother Jumpo again! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" Then he put his hand in his pocket, and he happened to feel a box of matches. Finding them gave him an idea. "I'll just make a little camp fire," he said. "Then, if I have to stay in the woods all night I'll be warm. And perhaps my papa and brother will come to search for me, and they can tell where I am by the light of the fire. I'll build one." It didn't take the monkey boy long to gather up some sticks and make a fire, and soon it was blazing merrily, while he sat down in front of it, on a flat stone, and looked at the flames. Then he thought of something else. "Roast chestnuts! Why not?" he exclaimed. "I'm hungry and they will be just the thing for my supper." So he took some of the chestnuts the squirrel had given him, and put them in the hot ashes to roast. Well, the nuts were almost ready to eat, after they had cooled a bit, when, all of a sudden, something reached around Jacko's neck from the darkness behind him, and a voice cried out: "Ah, ha! This time I've got you sure! I thought I'd find something for my supper if I came out, and I have!" Jacko turned around and saw that the savage wolf had hold of him. "Oh, please let me go!" cried the poor monkey boy. He struggled to get loose, but couldn't. "Indeed I'll not let you go!" snarled the wolf. "I'm going to sit down by your fire, and get warm, and then I'll carry you off to my den." Well, Jacko felt dreadfully on hearing that. But just you wait and see what happens, if you please. All of a sudden, just as the wolf was getting ready to carry the monkey boy off to his den, the chestnuts in the fire began bursting and popping from the heat. "Bang-bang!" they went, like fire-crackers. My! what a noise they made as they exploded. "Oh, I'm shot! I'm hit! Some one is shooting guns at me! Oh, please, don't kill me! I'll be good! I won't eat Jacko! I was only fooling!" cried the wolf, in a great fright. "Bang-bang!" went more chestnuts, and some of them hit the wolf in the eye. Then he gave three and a half howls, let go of Jacko and ran off in the woods as fast as he could go. Then Jacko heard a great shouting, and up rushed his papa and his brother Jumpo, who had been looking all over for him. They heard the bursting chestnuts and they hurried toward the sound, finding the lost monkey boy just in time. They soon showed him the way home, and so the wolf didn't have any supper that night, and everybody said Jacko was a very brave little monkey chap, and I think so myself; don't you? Now in case a little pig with a curly tail doesn't take my red necktie to wear to the picnic and make the angle worm laugh and turn a somersault, I'll tell you next about the Kinkytails making money. STORY XVI THE KINKYTAILS MAKE MONEY "Mamma, would you please buy us an automobile?" asked Jacko Kinkytail of his mother one Saturday morning when there wasn't any school. "An automobile? Why, my dear boy, what would you do with an automobile?" asked Mrs. Kinkytail. "Oh, yes; please do get us one, mother!" begged Jumpo. "Oh, my! I never heard of such a thing!" cried the monkeys' mamma, as she trimmed the dough off the edge of an apple pie and put it in the oven to bake. "What could you possibly do with it--you two little boys?" "Why, we could soon learn to run it," said Jacko. "Then we could go to school in it, and come home and take papa to the hand organ factory, and take you to the store, and we could even take out parties on excursion trips and make money that way." [Illustration] "What would you do when your auto wouldn't go?" asked Mrs. Kinkytail, as she got ready to bake a chocolate cocoanut cake with cherries on the top. "Oh, we could take turns pulling it then," spoke Jumpo. "Uncle Wiggily has one, so why can't we?" "Uncle Wiggily is rich, since he found his fortune," said Mrs. Kinkytail, "but your papa and I haven't money enough to buy even a set of tires for an auto. Still, if you boys could earn the money yourselves you might get one," she said. Of course, she was only joking, for she never thought the boys would take her in earnest. But they did. "All right, then, we'll earn the money," said Jacko. "Come on, Jumpo." "Don't stay away too long," cautioned their mamma, and she smiled as the two little monkey boys slid down the tree in which the house was built, and hurried away. "How are we going to make money?" asked Jumpo, as he followed after his brother. "Are you going to gather up old rags, bones and bottles, and sell them?" "Come on, I'll show you," spoke Jacko, as he tied his tail in a bow knot to keep it from dragging in the dust. "I'm going to the hand organ factory, where papa works, and I'm going to ask him to lend us an old organ. Then you and I will go around and play music and people will give us pennies. We'll soon have enough to buy an automobile." "The very thing!" cried Jumpo in delight. "You can play the organ and I'll climb up to the windows where the children are and get the pennies. Then this afternoon we'll buy the auto, and go for a ride. Won't mamma be surprised?" "I guess so," answered Jacko. "I hope we get enough money today. How much do you s'pose an auto costs, Jumpo?" "Oh, I guess twenty-six or twenty-seven cents. I know they're very expensive. But we can easily earn the money, for if the children give single pennies to a man playing the organ, who has a monkey with him, they'll probably give us double five-cent pieces to see two monkeys, and we'll soon have the twenty-seven cents, or, maybe, even thirty--who knows." Mr. Kinkytail was very busy in the factory when his two boys came in to see him, and he said they could have a second-hand hand organ that played sort of wheezy-eezy tunes. He was so busy that he didn't even ask them what they wanted it for and they didn't tell him. They just took the organ and started off with it. "Now we must play the very best tunes, and you must do some of your finest tricks," said Jacko, as they walked along until they came to a row of brick houses. "This will be a good place to begin," said the red monkey boy. "Rich people must live here." Well, I just wish you could have heard Jacko play that hand organ. Really, he did as well as you could, turning the handle sometimes with his left paw, and sometimes with his right and sometimes with his tail. "Oh, mamma!" cried a little girl at one window. "Come quick and see two monkeys with a hand organ! And one of them is coming up here. Oh, give me five cents for him!" "Two monkeys!" exclaimed her mamma. "You must be mistaken. You mean a man with a monkey." "No, really, mamma!" cried the little girl. "Come and see." "Sure enough!" spoke her mamma. "Two monkeys. Two monkeys. How very odd. Here is ten cents for them. Aren't they cute?" By this time Jumpo was climbing up the porch to where the little girl was holding out the money for him and Jacko was grinding the handle of the organ and playing a tune called: "If You Have Your Umbrella You Will Never Mind the Rain." When the little girl handed Jumpo the money he took off his pink cap, made a low bow, and, then standing on the roof of the porch, he turned a somersault, stood on his tail and made a queer face like an ice cream cone inside of a watermelon. "Oh, what a funny monkey!" cried the little girl in delight. "I wish I could keep him!" "I guess it's time for me to be going," thought Jumpo. "She might want to keep me forever and then Jacko and I couldn't get the auto." So he went on to the next house where there was a little boy, and Jumpo climbed up, and did some more tricks and Jacko kept on playing. By this time all the children in the block had heard about the two monkeys with the hand organ, and the boys and girls came with so many pennies that Jumpo's cap was hardly large enough to hold them. "Oh, Jacko, we've got as much as fifty cents!" he cried as they went on to the next block, and there they got more money until they had over a dollar. And then a big dog chased them, and the two monkey boys hurried back home. "But we've got enough to buy our auto," said Jacko, "so it's all right. Oh, won't we have fun in it!" "Indeed, we will!" cried Jumpo, as he wiggled both his ears and on the next page, in case the feather in the hat of the little girl next door doesn't tickle my puppy dog and make him sneeze, I'll tell you how the Kinkytails spent their money. STORY XVII THE KINKYTAILS SPEND MONEY "Well, I must say I never thought you two monkey boys would go off and earn money that way," said Mamma Kinkytail, as Jacko and Jumpo came in with the second-hand hand organ, after having gone around and played tunes, as I told you about in the story ahead of this. "Neither did I know what they were up to," said their father, as he sat reading the evening paper, after supper. "Why, when you boys came down to the factory, and asked me to let you take a second-hand hand organ I had no idea that you were going to do what you did." "But you don't mind; do you?" asked Jumpo. "Because we thought it was all right," spoke Jacko. "Oh, bless you, no," said their mamma. "It _was_ all right." And then Jacko told her how he and his brother had played the music and done the tricks, and how the little girl had given them ten cents and the other children pennies and five-cent pieces, and how delighted all the children were to see them. "It was clever of you," said Mrs. Kinkytail. "How much money did you make?" asked their papa, laughing behind his paper. "We took in one dollar and seventeen cents," said Jacko, as he counted it, "and we would have had eighteen cents, only I dropped one penny down a crack in the board walk of a house. But maybe we can get it some day." "And now may we go down town and buy our auto?" asked Jumpo eagerly. "It's early yet and the stores will be open for some time. Please may we, mother?" "You can't get an automobile for a dollar and seventeen cents," said their papa. "Well, we can try, can't we?" asked Jacko. "Oh, let them go," whispered their mamma to Mr. Kinkytail. "It will do no harm, and they will very soon find out their mistake." "I guess so," agreed their papa, as he looked in the paper to see if it was going to be nice weather Sunday. So Jacko and Jumpo having carefully wrapped their money in a piece of paper, started down town. And on their way they met Sammie Littletail, the boy rabbit, who wanted to know where they were going. So they told him. "Ha, ha! Ho, ho!" laughed Sammie. "You can't get an auto for that money. Why an automobile costs as much as three dollars and fifteen cents, and then there's the gasoline to make it go--that costs money, too." "Don't mind him," spoke Jacko, pulling his brother by the sleeve. "We'll get that auto anyhow." So they kept on down town, and pretty soon they could see the lights in the stores, and they hurried faster than ever, for they were very anxious to get their auto. "Have you got the money safe?" asked Jumpo. "Yes," said Jacko, and just then, as they turned around a corner they saw a poor little mousie girl. Oh, she was such a poor little girl, and she had on such a ragged dress, and her shoes were so full of holes that there was hardly room for her tiny feet in them. And she was crying and shivering with the cold. "Why, what is the matter?" asked Jacko, kindly. "Oh, I'm so cold and miserable and hungry," said the mousie girl, wiping away her tears. "Then why don't you go home and get warm and have something to eat," said Jumpo. "That's what we do when we're cold and hungry, don't we, Jacko?" "Yes, but there is no fire in my house," said the poor little mousie girl, "and there is nothing to eat." "Why not?" asked Jacko, surprised like, and he felt in his pockets once more, to see if he had his money safe. "Because we are too poor," answered the mousie girl. "My papa is sick with the epizootic, and my mamma has the rheumatism so bad that she can't take in washing, and we are so cold and miserable! My little brother sells papers, telling the mouse people about cheese and crackers, and how to keep out of traps, but his toes got so cold, because he had no shoes, that he can't sell papers any more. "So I started out to sell matches, but I dropped them in a barrel of water, and no one wants to buy wet matches, you know. Oh, hoo, boo! Boo, hoo! How cold and miserable and hungry I am!" and she cried, oh so sadly. Jacko and Jumpo thought for a minute. Then Jacko pulled his brother to one side. "Look here," said Jacko, blinking his eyes, "we've got to do something for that mousie girl." "That's right," said Jumpo, sniffing his nose. "I--I don't care much about an automobile, anyhow, do you?" asked Jacko. "N--no--no--not--much," spoke Jumpo, slowly. "They're always getting stuck, and won't go, and then you have to get out and walk, and besides they use so much gasoline, and--and gasoline smells so--so funny! Say, we don't need an auto. Let's give the mousie girl this money." "All right," said Jumpo, so Jacko handed the poor little girl the $1.17. "There," said Jacko, "take it home and get some coal and something to eat. We don't want an auto, anyway." "Oh, thank you so much!" exclaimed the mousie girl, as she hurried away. "Well, I--I guess we might as well go back home," said Jacko, sadly, after a bit. "Yes," agreed Jumpo, and they started off together. Well, they hadn't gone very far before they heard a bangity-bang noise down the street, and, running up, they saw Uncle Wiggily standing in front of his auto. It was standing still and smoking and making a terrible racket and a policeman dog was saying: "Come, now, Mr. Wiggily, you'll have to move along." "Move along! I only wish I could," cried the old gentleman rabbit. "I never saw such a pesky automobile! It's always stopping. I've jiggled and joggled and tickled everything from the whoop-de-doodle-do down to the slam-bangity-what-is-it, but it won't go. I'm done with it. Whoever wants it can have it!" "Oh, may we have it?" cried Jacko, as Uncle Wiggily started toward the sidewalk, leaving the auto in the street. "To be sure you may, and I'll buy a gallon of gasoline into the bargain!" cried Uncle Wiggily. "Come on, we'll pull it home, and then we'll fix it so that it will go!" cried Jacko; so he and Jumpo pulled the auto home, and that's how they got one after all, without any money. And the little mousie girl wasn't cold or hungry any more. And in case the ice box doesn't catch cold in the rice pudding and freeze the potato salad so it can't go to moving pictures, I'll tell you next about Jacko and Jumpo in their auto. STORY XVIII JUMPO AND JACKO IN THE AUTO "Aren't you glad it's Saturday, when we don't have to go to school?" asked Jacko Kinkytail of his brother Jumpo, the green monkey, when he awoke one morning. "Of course I'm glad," answered Jumpo. "But what are we going to do today--go fishing?" "No, indeed! Why, have you forgotten about the little automobile which Uncle Wiggily gave us? It's down in the yard." "Oh, of course! And we can go for a ride in it. Oh, how glad I am!" And, would you believe me, Jumpo was so happy that he jumped out of bed and hung by his tail from the back of the rocking chair. And Jacko took up a ball and caught it, first in one foot and then in the other, until it happened to slip away from him, striking Jumpo on the nose. "Ouch!" cried Jumpo, and he uncurled his tail from the chair and rubbed his nose. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" exclaimed Jacko. "I didn't mean to do that. Wait. I'll help you rub your nose." Well, he started to rub poor Jumpo's sore nose, but Jacko made a little mistake. He took up a piece of sticky fly paper instead of a handkerchief, and the fly paper stuck to the nose of the green monkey so that he could hardly breathe, and his mamma had to come running in the bedroom to see what was the matter. "Oh, you funny boys!" she exclaimed. "You are always up to some tricks. You had better get dressed at once and go out to play. It is a fine day." "Of course we will!" cried Jacko. "Come on, Jumpo. We'll go for a long automobile ride." So after Mrs. Kinkytail had taken the fly paper off Jumpo's nose, the monkey boys had breakfast and they got ready to go out. The automobile which Uncle Wiggily had given the monkey boys, because it wouldn't go for him, had been fixed by Mr. Kinkytail, so it was now as good as ever. The tires were pumped full of wind and then Jumpo climbed up on the seat and took hold of the steering wheel. Jacko twisted the crank in front, and he did it very well, too, for, you know, he had plenty of practise in twisting the cranks of hand-organs, so he knew just how to do it. And then the auto started off. Whizz! Whazz! Whuzz! it went, down the street, faster and faster, until it was out on a nice country road. "My! Isn't this just fine!" cried Jumpo. "It certainly is as delicious as two ice cream cones and part of another one," replied his brother. And they laughed and looked at each other and they nearly ran over a rooster, and the rooster crowed as loud as he could and said: "You monkey boys had better look out where you are going! You have me all ruffled up." "Oh, I beg your pardon," said Jumpo most politely. "We will go more slowly." So he twisted some of the shiny things on the steering wheel, and he tickled the thing-a-ma-bob and pushed the tittle-cum-tattle-cum and the auto went slower. But even then it was going pretty fast. "Say, if a burglar fox chased us now, he couldn't catch us, could he?" said Jacko. "Never in the world," answered his brother. And just then a big, black bear stuck his nose out of the bushes and growled: "Hold on there, I haven't had any dinner yet." "Well, you can't eat us!" shouted Jumpo, so he turned the what-you-may-call-it around backward and away they went faster than ever and the bear couldn't catch them, not even if he had put on roller skates to slide with. Well, after a while, not so very long, all of a sudden, as the monkey boys were riding along through the woods, all of a sudden, I say, their auto stopped. It wouldn't go a bit farther. "What's the matter?" asked Jacko. "I don't know," said Jumpo, looking all around. "Maybe the squee-gee is on crooked," said the red monkey. "No, that's all straight," answered the green monkey, as he looked at it to make sure. "Then perhaps the busticated-what's-his-name needs oiling," suggested Jacko. So Jumpo put some oil on the busticated-what's-his-name, but still that auto wouldn't go any more than a clock will if it isn't wound up. "Maybe all the wheels are off," spoke Jacko. So they got out to look, but the wheels were on all right and tight, and the big tires were full of wind like a bologna sausage. Well, these monkey boys didn't know what to do, and they were beginning to be frightened, for they were in the deep woods, where there might be wolves. They began to wish they hadn't come so far, or else that they knew more about autos. All of a sudden they heard a rustling in the bushes, and they looked around, fearing they might see the burglar fox, perhaps, but whom do you suppose it was? Why, no one else than Grandfather Goosey Gander. "Oh, our auto is stuck!" cried Jacko. "Yes, it won't go," said Jumpo. Grandfather Goosey took one look at the machine, then he sniffed the air and said: "Why, of course, it won't go, you have no more gasoline. I know, for I once had a motor-boat and the same thing happened to me. You need gasoline, just as I did. Go buy some gasoline." "Where can we get it; here in the woods?" asked Jacko. Grandfather Goosey Gander sniffed the air again. "I smell gasoline," he said, "and it's over this way. Come with me." So he led the monkey boys through the woods toward a big stump, and there, right behind it, was Aunt Lettie, the old lady goat. And what do you s'pose she was doing? Why, she was cleaning the spots off the trousers of Jimmie Wibblewobble, the duck boy, with gasoline. She had a big can full, for you know gasoline cleans spots off things very nicely. "Oh, will you please give us some of your gasoline to make our auto go?" asked Jacko politely of the old lady goat. "Mercy sakes alive, child! Of course I will," said Aunt Lettie. So she gave the monkey boys some, and Grandfather Goosey Gander showed them how to pour it in the tank of their car. Then Jumpo twisted the tinkerum-tankerum and away the auto went, whizz-whazz! and the boys had a fine ride. They went through the woods and up one hill and down another, and when they were almost home a big savage wolf chased them, but he couldn't catch up to that auto; no, sir, no matter how he tried, and he couldn't bite any holes in the tires, either. So Jacko and Jumpo got safely home, just in time for dinner, and they had huckleberry pie and chocolate drops on it with their milk. So that's all now, if you please, but in case the spoonholder doesn't squeeze the salt-shaker and make the pepper box sneeze, I'll tell you on the next page about Jumpo and the roast marshmallow candy. STORY XIX JUMPO AND THE ROAST MARSHMALLOWS It was almost time for school to be out, and Jacko and Jumpo, the red and green monkey boys, could hardly wait, as they wanted to run home and go for another ride in their little auto. Of course, all the other animal children also wished school was over, for Jacko and Jumpo had promised to let all of them have turns riding in the gasoline car. But just when it was almost time for school to be out the owl school teacher said: "Now, children, I am going to give you all some lessons to study at home, and I want you all to do them as nicely as you can. Now pay attention, please." So she gave some of the pupils examples to do, and to others she gave spelling, and to still others writing, while the bigger children, like Sammie Littletail or Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, had geography to study. And the little kindergarten children had to cut things out of paper--horses and cows and houses and trees, and things like that. "Now you may all go," said the teacher, "and bring your lessons in with you to-morrow morning." Well, the animal children marched out, but they weren't very happy. They didn't think they ought to have to study at home, but it has to be done, sometimes, you know. And really it isn't so hard if you don't think so. "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Jacko to his brother, when they were outside the school. "We can't go for an auto ride if we have to study our examples." "No; isn't it mean?" exclaimed his brother. "But perhaps if we run along quickly we'll have time for just a little ride before we have to do our home work." So they hurried as fast as they could and they soon reached home. Then their mamma said they might ride around the block a couple of times in their auto before doing any study. "And then, after your lessons are done, you may ride some more," she said; "that is if it isn't too dark." Well, Jacko and Jumpo took their little ride, and they gave rides to as many of their friends as they could. Then they went in the house to study. But alas and alack-a-day! You know how it happens sometimes. Jacko got his example all twisted up, and the answer wouldn't come right. And Jumpo's numbers got all snarled up, until the figure six looked like a nine and the figure eight like a brown cruller which his mamma sometimes made in the lard kettle. "Oh, dear!" cried both the monkey boys. "We'll never get done in time to go auto riding before dark." "Never mind," spoke their mamma, "I'll help you." And she did; but even then it was dark before they were finished, and quite too late to go out in the auto, for they might have hit a lamp post and bent the rubber tires into a figure forty-'leven. "What can we do to have some fun?" asked Jumpo, as he untied two hard knots in his tail. "How would you like to roast some marshmallow candies?" asked his mother, looking over the top of the piano. "How do you do it?" inquired Jacko, who was still studying. [Illustration] "You build a little fire," said his mamma, "only you must be very careful not to get too near it. Then you take a stick and sharpen the end. Then you fasten a soft marshmallow candy on the pointed stick, and hold it near the fire, but not too close, and pretty soon the marshmallow candy puffs up and gets nice and brown and you eat it--only you must wait until it is cool, or you might burn your tongue. Do you want to do that?" "Burn my tongue? No, indeed!" cried Jumpo, making a funny face and wriggling his tail up and down like a fan. "Oh, I didn't mean burn your tongue, you funny boy," spoke his mamma with a laugh. "I meant do you want to build a fire and roast marshmallows?" "Surely," said Jumpo politely. "Don't you, Jacko?" "No, I guess not," said the red monkey boy. "I think I'll read a little after my lessons are done and then go to bed. To-morrow we may not have to study at home, and we can take a longer auto ride." So Jumpo went out alone in front of his house to roast the marshmallows. His mamma gave him some of the candies in a tin box, and he sharpened his own stick, and built a nice little fire, being careful not to make it too large. And he was also careful not to get burned. By this time it was quite dark, and the fire looked very pretty, blazing just on the edge of the woods near where the monkey's tree-house was built. When there were some nice, glowing, hot coals in the blaze Jumpo got ready to roast the marshmallow candies. He stuck one on the sharp stick, and held it close to the fire. But, oh, dear me, hum suz dud! Jumpo held the candy too close, and the first thing you know it caught fire and melted and fell off the stick down into the blaze and was burned up! Wasn't that too bad? "I'll not hold the next one so close," he said, and he was careful; so the second candy turned a nice golden brown and puffed up nearly twice as big as it had been before. "Oh, I know what I'll do!" suddenly exclaimed Jumpo. "I'll toast a lot of them and take them in the house for mamma and papa and Jacko." So he roasted the candies as fast as he could until he had quite a pile of them in a box. As they were very hot he pushed them off the end on the pointed stick, using a piece of bark for a pusher. Jumpo was so busy that he didn't look behind him. If he had done so he would have been very much frightened. For there, creeping out of the bushes, was the burglar fox, with his big tail and sharp teeth. And he was creeping, creeping up toward Jumpo to eat him. But Jumpo didn't know a thing about it. He was so busy roasting marshmallow candies. All of a sudden the fox accidentally stepped on a stick, and it broke in two pieces and made a loud noise. Jumpo heard it and turned around. Then, by the light of the fire, he saw the fox coming toward him. "Ah, ha! Now I have you!" cried the bad creature, and he made a spring to catch the monkey boy. Jumpo didn't wait to be caught, you may be sure of that. He jumped, too, and the green monkey happened to tip over the box of toasted marshmallow candies as he leaped to one side. He upset them all over the ground, and then what do you s'pose happened? Why, that bad fox landed right in the midst of the hot, soft candies, and they got all over his feet, like sticky flypaper, and they burned him. Oh, how he howled! The more he tried to get the candies off, the tighter they stuck. The fox turned a somersault, and then the candies got all over his fur, until he looked like a marshmallow fox. And, of course, he couldn't catch Jumpo then, for he was so stuck up. The monkey boy ran in the house and told his papa about the fox, and Mr. Kinkytail came out with his gun. But by that time the fox had run off to find a puddle of water so that he could wash the candy out of his fur, and he wasn't in sight for Papa Kinkytail to shoot. "Oh, my poor marshmallows!" cried Jumpo, when he saw that they were all spoiled by the fox rolling in them. "Oh, dear!" "Never mind, I have another boxful," said his mother, kindly. "And this time I'll help you roast them," said Jacko. So he did, and there were enough candies for the whole family. Then they all went to bed and the fox didn't bother them for a long time after that. Now, if the egg beater doesn't knock all the dust out of the piano cover when it dresses up like a rag doll, I'll tell you next about Jacko and the busy bee. STORY XX JACKO AND THE BUSY BEE "Boys, I wish you would go to the store for me," said Mrs. Kinkytail to Jacko and Jumpo when they came home from school one afternoon. "Of course we will," said the red monkey. "Do you want some sugar and chocolate to make candy?" "No, but I want a yeast cake and some flour to make bread with," said the mamma monkey. "Bread is more important than candy," she went on, "though candy is very good, if you don't eat too much. And I also want some molasses, for I am going to make molasses cookies." "Oh, goodie!" cried Jumpo. "Come on, Jacko, we'll go in our automobile and it won't take us very long. Then we can go on another ride when we come back, and have some fun with the other animal boys." So their mamma gave them the money for the yeast cake, the flour and molasses and away they started off in the auto, blowing the horn, to kindly ask every one to look out so they wouldn't get run over. Jacko was steering, and Jumpo was sitting beside him. They hadn't gone very far before they met Uncle Wiggily Longears, the old gentleman rabbit who had given them the auto. "Hello, Uncle Wiggily!" called Jacko, "don't you want a ride?" "I believe I will get in," spoke the gentleman rabbit. "As my rheumatism hurts me to-day, I can't walk very well." "Aren't you sorry you gave away this nice auto? Don't you want it back?" asked Jumpo, though he hoped he and his brother could keep it. "No," answered the old gentleman rabbit, shaking his head. "I never had any luck with that auto. It wouldn't go for me, and I can't understand how it goes for you. I'm afraid if I ride with you that you'll have bad luck." But the boys didn't think so, and the rabbit gentleman got in the back seat. Away they went once more. Uncle Wiggily was just thinking what a nice ride he was having, and he was wishing he could run the auto like that, when, all of a sudden, there was a bangity-bang noise and the auto stopped. "There!" cried the rabbit. "What did I tell you? I knew I'd give you bad luck. Let me get out and walk. Then it will go again," and before Jacko and Jumpo could stop him, Uncle Wiggily hopped out. "Wait, we'll soon get it fixed," said Jacko. "Then you can ride some more." "No, indeed!" answered Uncle Wiggily. "That auto will never go again. I'm going to walk, I'm in a hurry." So away he hopped through the woods, and Jacko and Jumpo tried to see what was the matter with their car. But though they pushed and pulled and twisted and turned everything they could see or think of, the auto stood still just like a tree growing in the woods. "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Jumpo, "we may have to stay here all night, and the grocery store will close before we can get to it, and we can't have any molasses cookies." "I'll tell you what we'll do," spoke Jacko. "You skip off through the woods to the store, and get the things, and I'll stay here and see if I can fix the auto. By the time you get back with the yeast cake and flour and molasses, I may have it running." Well, Jumpo thought that was good advice, so he ran on through the woods to the grocery store. And Jacko tried once more to make the auto go. He shoved and he twisted and he turned, and he even put some fresh air in the hollow tires, but the auto wouldn't move. "I know what I'll do," he exclaimed, "I'll take out the toodle-oodle-um and put it where the diddle-daddle-um belongs and I'll put the snicky-snackum in the place of the mickie-mackie-um. That may be the trouble." So he did that and then he climbed up on the seat and sure enough the auto went off as nicely as a piece of cherry pie, with the fizzle-fozzle going flippity-flop. "Oh, joy!" cried Jacko, when he saw that the car was all right. "Now when Jumpo comes back with the groceries we can ride home and have some fun." So he got out of the auto, after stopping it, of course, to wait for his brother. Jacko walked around in the woods and pretty soon he came up to a tree. Inside of it he heard a funny buzzing sound, and then he heard a voice singing this little song: "I am a busy little bee, I'm buzzing all the day. I make so much sweet honey that I have no time to play." Then Jacko looked and he saw a little hole in the tree. He went close up to it and said: "Are you there in that hole, Mrs. Bee?" "Yes," was the answer, "but please go away, little boy, as I am very busy, I have to make enough honey to last all winter." Well, Jacko was just going away when he saw a snake sneaking along on the ground. And that bad snake took up some soft mud on the end of his tail, and he plastered it over the hole in the tree where the bee was making honey, so she couldn't get out when she wanted to. "Now, when that bee is dead I'll come and get the honey," hissed the snake, just like a steam radiator. "No you won't!" cried Jacko, and then he blew the big auto horn so loudly that the snake was frightened and crawled away as fast as he could. Then the red monkey took a stick, and knocked the mud away from the bee's hole so she could come out when she wanted to. "Oh, thank you, so much!" buzzed the bee. "I'll give you some honey for being kind to me." So she gave Jacko some, and also some for his brother, and by that time Jumpo came back from the store with the groceries and he was glad to find that Jacko had fixed the auto, though he was a little frightened when he heard about the snake. The two brothers were just going to ride home in their car, but before they could get it started all of a sudden along came the savage wolf. He was just going to grab Jumpo, and maybe Jacko also, for all I know, when the busy bee just buzzed up and stung the wolf on the tip of his soft and tender black nose so that he ran howling away to put some mud on the sting. And so he didn't eat either of the monkey boys, and the bee was glad she had helped them. Then they hurried home in their automobile and their mamma made some molasses cookies and they had them for supper with honey on, and Oh! how delicious they were. And after supper Jacko and Jumpo played tag with Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, the squirrels, until it was time to go to bed. So now, good night, if you please. And in the next story I'll tell you about the Kinkytails and the grape vine--that is if the basket of peaches doesn't fall down the chimney and scare the fire shovel so that it hides in the ash can. STORY XXI JACKO AND THE GRAPE VINE Jacko Kinkytail had to go alone to school one day, and the reason for it was because Jumpo had the toothache and could not go with his brother. Oh, how poor Jumpo did suffer. His mamma did everything she could for him, putting cloves on his tooth and bags of hot salt outside of his funny, little, fuzzy, hairy face, but the tooth still ached. "Oh, I never can recite my lessons today," said Jumpo, as he tied his tail in two hard knots, thinking that would make him forget the pain. "Then you needn't go to school," said his mother. "And pretty soon we'll go down to the dentist's and have the tooth fixed." Well, Jacko started off alone, and he felt quite sorry that his brother wasn't with him. Pretty soon Jacko met Jimmie Wibblewobble, the boy duck. And Jimmie had a new football that his papa had given him. "Let's see who can kick it the farthest," said the duck boy. So he tried, and he kicked it about as far as from a stick of peppermint candy to the place where the ice cream cones grew on the cocoanut tree. Then it was Jacko's turn. The red monkey put the football down on the ground. Then he took a little run and he pushed the ball as hard as he could with one foot and also with his tail. Away it sailed as far as from the ice cream soda fountain store down to the place where the man sells hot peanuts at five cents a bag. "That was a fine kick!" cried Sammie Littletail, the rabbit boy, who came along just then. "A most dandy kick." "Yes, but Jacko used his tail besides his foot to kick with, and I can't do that," said Jimmie, sort of sad-like. "Perhaps what I did wasn't just fair," admitted Jacko. "Never mind, after school we'll have a good football game. We'll go down by our house and play, so that my brother, who is sick with the toothache, can look out of the window and watch us. Then he won't think so much of his pain." Well, the boy animals thought this was a good plan, so when school was out they hurried with Jacko to the monkey-house. Then they began to play football. They kicked the ball all around, up one side, down the other, through the middle, and sometimes even sideways. And the ball never said a word, nor so much as winked its eyes. "Now, for a big, long kick!" suddenly cried Jacko, when he got a chance. "I believe I can almost kick that ball to the end of the rainbow." Of course, there wasn't any rainbow there at the time, but Jacko just said that for fun. Johnnie Bushytail, the squirrel boy, suddenly rushed at Jacko, trying to kick the ball before the monkey boy could do so, but Jacko was too quick for Johnnie, and kicked it first. Away sailed the ball, farther than ever, and then something happened. The football went right over a high, steep, straight-up-and-down hill, and fell into a big hole on the other side. "Oh, there goes my ball!" cried Jimmie Wibblewobble, and he tried not to cry, though he felt very much like it. "Never mind, we can get it again," said Billie Bushytail. "You oughtn't to kick so strong, Jacko." "I s'pose I ought not to," agreed the monkey boy, sort of sad-like. "But I will go down and get the ball. Then we can play another game." And all this while Jumpo was watching the boys from out of the window. And his tooth didn't ache quite so badly when he saw what fun they were having. He wished he was with them. "What's the matter?" Jumpo asked, when he saw the ball bounce out of sight over the hill. "It's fallen down in a big hole, and I'm going after it," said Jacko. So the red monkey and his friends went to the edge of the hill and looked over. Oh! it was a very steep, dark place, and when Jacko saw how far down he'd have to go he was a bit afraid. "I don't believe I can go down there," he said, wriggling his tail. "But I will try, because it was my fault that the ball went over. I'll climb down." "No, don't do that," spoke Sammie Littletail. "You might fall and be hurt. See, here is a long wild grapevine. The vine is just like a rope. We can tie one end around you while we hold on the other end. Then we can lower you down into the hole, just like on an elevator, and you can get the football. Then we'll pull you up again." Every one thought that was a good plan, so they took a long piece of grapevine and tied it around Jacko. "Careful now!" called Jacko, as they began lowering him over the edge of the hill, down into the hole where the football was. "Don't let me fall!" They all had tight hold of the grapevine rope, and they promised they wouldn't let go. And they lowered Jacko down, down, down; very slowly and carefully, until he could pick up the lost football in his paws. Then they began to pull him up. But they didn't know that a savage hawk-bird had her nest in the side of that hill. And Jacko was lowered right past where she lived. When he went down the bird was asleep, but when his friends began pulling him up the bad bird awakened. She looked out, and she saw Jacko, the red monkey, swinging on the end of the grapevine near her nest of eggs. "Now is my chance to pick his eyes out!" cried the hawk-bird. Right at Jacko she flew, beating her big wings and gnashing her beak, and wiggling her sharp claws. Jacko saw her coming, but he had the football in one paw and he had to hold on the rope with the other, so he couldn't do much except with his feet. "Here's where I bite you!" cried the savage hawk, and really it did seem as if she would. For the boy animals couldn't pull Jacko up fast enough to get him out the way of the hawk. And there he was, dangling on the end of the grapevine rope like an apple on a string. Then Jumpo, sitting up in the window, saw what was happening. He wanted to help his brother, so he cried: "Some of you fellows come and get my bean shooter, and shoot the hawk until she lets Jacko alone. Hurry and get my shooter." So Sammie Littletail ran and got the shooter, and a lot of hard beans. Then he leaned over the edge of the steep hill, and he blew beans at the hawk that was flying around trying to pick out Jacko's eyes. The beans hit the bird all over; on her tail and on her feathers and on her claws and beak, and soon she was glad enough to fly back into her nest and let the monkey boy alone, for she couldn't see Sammie blowing the beans, as he was hidden behind a bush. Then the boy animals hurried and pulled up Jacko and the football and he was safe, and they had a lot more fun playing the game, and every one said that Jumpo was very smart to think of the bean shooter. And the green monkey boy was so excited that he forgot all about his toothache, which was a good thing, and the next day the dentist fixed it so that it never ached again. I hope none of you ever have the toothache. Now, if the ketchup bottle doesn't spill itself into the pitcher of lemonade and make it look like a pink tomato, I'll tell you next about Jacko doing a trick. STORY XXII JACKO DOES SOME TRICKS Once upon a time, not so very many years ago, a very queer thing happened to Jacko Kinkytail, the red monkey boy, and I'm going to tell you all about it from the beginning down to the very end, and I hope you'll like it. You see it started this way. It was after school one day, when all the boy and girl animals were on their way home with their books in straps, or else under their paws or wings. Jacko and Jumpo were walking along, sometimes picking up things in their front paws or their feet or their long tails, when, all of a sudden Sammie Littletail, the boy rabbit, said: "Let's have a race, and see who gets to the big black stump first." Now this black stump was in the middle of the woods, through which the children had to go on their way to and from school. The stump looked like an elephant trying to catch his tail in his trunk, but of course it wasn't really alive; only make-believe, you know. "I think I can run faster than anybody," said Munchie Trot, the boy pony. "Oh, no; I'm the fastest," spoke Bully No-Tail, the frog. "We'll see," whistled Dickie Chip-Chip, the sparrow. Away they started for the big, black stump, girls and boys all together. Some of them flew and some of them hopped and some ran, just as they liked. But Dickie Chip-Chip, the sparrow boy, got to the stump first, because he could go through the air like a balloon or an airship. Then they were all out of breath from the race as they came to the stump, one after another, so they sat down to rest. "Well, we're all ready now, let's run some more," said Lulu Wibblewobble, the duck girl, after a while, as she looked to see if her neck ribbon had come off. So they all started to run again, just as you do when you come from school, only Jacko Kinkytail didn't race with the others this time. "What's the matter?" asked his brother, looking back. "Aren't you coming with us?" "No, I'm too tired," said the little red monkey boy. "I'm going to sit here and rest a bit. I'll be home after a while, and you and I will have an auto ride, Jumpo." So Jacko stayed there by the big, black stump, while the others went on to race again. And the first thing Jacko knew was that he heard something moving in the bushes behind the stump. "My goodness!" he exclaimed, jumping up. "I hope that isn't a bad fox or a wolf." So he got ready to run, but before he could jump out of the way, out came a big black bear. And, no sooner had the bear seen Jacko, than the shaggy creature rushed up to the monkey, and tied a rope around his neck. "Now I have you!" growled the bear. "Yes, I see you have," said Jacko, as he tried to get away, but couldn't. "Please let me go. Are you going to eat me? Oh, dear, oh, dear!" the monkey boy cried. "No, I'm not going to eat you," said the bear. "I'll tell you that much, anyhow. And I'm not going to let you go. I am going to take you all around the country with me to do tricks." "Do tricks?" cried Jacko, surprised like. [Illustration] "Yes, you see I used to be a performing bear, but I don't want to be one any more. I used to ride a bicycle, climb up a tree, play that I was a soldier and waltz around when my master sang a funny song. But I'm tired of it, so I ran away, and now I want to make some money for myself to buy a pair of spectacles, so I can read. So I'm going to have a trick monkey of my own, and you'll have to be it. "You and I will travel about, and you'll do the tricks, such as standing on your head, making funny faces, turning somersaults, tying knots in your tail, and swinging on a trapeze. You'll do the tricks and the people will pay me the money for watching you. Then I'll be rich. Come along now," and the bear pulled on the rope which he had fastened about Jacko's neck. Well, the red monkey didn't want to go with the bear, but he had to. And oh! he felt dreadfully about leaving all his friends, and his brother and mamma and papa, but there was no help for it. He thought, perhaps, some of his friends might see him and make the bad bear run away, but none of them did. Away through the woods went Jacko with the trained bear leading him. This wasn't the kind trained bear of whom I once told you. No, this was another one, a bad, savage, unpleasant creature. Pretty soon, after they had gone through the woods for quite a distance, Jacko and the bear came to a place where there were a whole lot of animal people. There were birds and cows and horses and dogs and cats and all like that, only they were animal people, you see. "Here will be a good place to show off some of your tricks," growled the bear. "We will have time before supper, so you will do them now and I will take up the collection. Lively! Dance and make funny faces. Stand on your tail." Then the bear pulled hard on the string about Jacko's neck and the poor monkey had to do all sorts of tricks. He made believe he was a soldier and marched around. He jumped over a stick of wood, pretended to beat a drum and ring a bell, and then he turned two somersaults, one after the other, as quick as a stick of lemon candy. "You are doing very well," whispered the bear in Jacko's ear, after he had taken up a collection. "Keep on and I will soon be rich. Now we will go a long distance and do more tricks." Well, Jacko didn't like that, and he didn't want to go so far away from home, especially when it was getting dark. And he wondered how he could get away. But he didn't see any chance, as the bear had tight hold of the string around Jacko's neck. Then Jacko thought of a plan. If he could only make some of the animal people understand that he didn't want to go with the bear, but, instead, wanted to go home, he felt sure they would help him. But he didn't quite know how he could tell them, for he knew if he spoke to them the bear might hear him and scratch him before he was half through telling every one that he wanted to get away. By this time there was quite a crowd watching the bear make the monkey do tricks, when, all of a sudden, Jacko looked over the heads of the audience and saw Uncle Wiggily Longears, the brave rabbit gentleman, standing there with his crutch. "Oh, if I could only make him see me and make him know who I am, he would save me!" thought Jacko. So, without the bear telling him what to do, the red monkey suddenly began to make believe he was an automobile. He twisted the pinkum-pankum, tooted the horn, cranked the front part and turned on the gasoline. For he knew Uncle Wiggily would be interested in that sort of a trick and would help him. And, surely enough, just as Jacko was pretending to turn around a curve in a make-believe auto and run over a milk bottle, and the crowd was laughing and clapping and yelling like anything, Uncle Wiggily saw the monkey and cried out: "Why, if there isn't Jacko Kinkytail! I wonder what that bear is doing with him? I think he must have kidnapped him." Then the old gentleman rabbit cried: "Hey! You let my friend Jacko go!" And Uncle Wiggily rushed forward with his crutch and banged it on a stone, making a noise like a gun, and he looked so angry that the bear let go of the rope and quickly sneaked away where no one could find him. So Jacko was free, and didn't have to do any tricks unless he wished to. Then Uncle Wiggily took him home, and they arrived just as Mrs. Kinkytail was sending out old dog Percival to look for her son and tell him to come to supper. So that's how Jacko escaped from the bad bear. And on the next page, in case the stove lifter doesn't pull out the carpet tacks and feed them to the gold fish, I'll tell you about Jumpo and the paper cup. STORY XXIII JUMPO AND THE PAPER CUP One day, when Jacko and Jumpo Kinkytail, the red and green monkey boys, were coming home from school, Jacko said to Jumpo: "I have five cents, that I have been saving up for a long while. Now I'm going to buy a bag of hot roast peanuts, and I'll give you some." "Oh, fine!" cried Jumpo. "But where can you buy any peanuts in these woods?" for you see at that time the monkey boys were going home through a place where the trees grew thick and tall, almost up to the sky, it seemed. "Oh, perhaps we will meet some one with a hot peanut wagon, or we may come to a store where they sell them," said the red monkey. "You look on that side of the path, Jumpo, and I'll look on this side." So they did this, looking as hard as they could look, for they were quite hungry for peanuts, but all they could see were the brown leaves being blown about in the wind. "I guess there are no peanuts here," said Jacko at length. "We will have to wait until we get home." "No!" exclaimed Jumpo, as he tied his tail in three hard knots and untied it as quickly as you can watch the baby shake his rattlebox. "I'll tell you what we'll do," said Jumpo. "You let me take the five cents, and I'll go look for a peanut wagon in the woods. Then you stay here and watch for one to come along. If one does come you kindly ask the man to wait here until I get back with the money, for, of course, I may not find anybody with peanuts." "But how can I tell you to come back with the money, when you are away off in the woods?" Jacko wanted to know. "Why, you take two stones, and hit them together as hard as you can," explained the green monkey, "and it will sound like a drum. Then I'll come back running, but if I should happen to find a peanut wagon before you do, I'll come back anyhow." Well, Jacko thought that was a good plan, so he gave his brother the five-cent piece, and then he sat down on a stone under a tree to wait while Jumpo went off in the woods. Then Jacko began to study his spelling lesson. And he learned to spell cat, and rat, and dog, and boy, and words like that. But now we needn't think of Jacko for a little time, as I am going to tell you what happened to Jumpo. On and on the green monkey boy went through the woods, looking for a hot peanut wagon. Of course, I don't mean that the wagon would be hot, no, indeed. I mean the peanuts would be nice and warm after being roasted. "Well, I guess I'm not going to find the peanut man," thought Jumpo, as he looked all over, and in several other places. Then he listened to see if he could hear the whistle of the hot peanut wagon, but he couldn't, and he was just getting ready to turn around and go back where his brother was, for it was getting late, and would soon be dark. Then, all of a sudden, Jumpo heard a queer sound. It was like some one talking, and the words were these: "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I'll never get a drink, I'm afraid. And I'm so thirsty, and I can't walk home. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! What shall I do?" "Ha! I wonder who that can be?" thought the green monkey boy. "Perhaps it is the peanut man, and he has eaten so many of his peanuts that he needs a drink. I guess I had better help him." So Jumpo started through the woods toward where he heard the voice talking. Then, all at once he thought of something. "That may be a bear, or a burglar fox talking that way just to catch me," he whispered to himself. "I had better go slowly. I'll just peek through the bushes, before I go any closer, and see who it is." Then Jumpo looked through the bushes. And whom do you s'pose he saw, sitting on a stump near a little spring of water? Well, I don't believe you'd ever guess, so I'm going to tell you. It was Uncle Wiggily Longears, the old gentleman rabbit, and Uncle Wiggily was looking at the spring of water and saying: "Oh, dear!" so many times that Jumpo couldn't count them. "Ha! There is no danger for me now!" exclaimed the green monkey boy. "I must go and help him. Why, what is the matter, Uncle Wiggily?" asked Jumpo as he walked toward him. "Oh, it is you; is it, Jumpo?" spoke the rabbit. "Well, I am very glad to see you. But, oh dear! how thirsty I am. I ate some salted muskmelon with pepper cabbage sauce on it for dinner, and I am so thirsty that I don't know what to do." "But why don't you drink, when you are so close to a spring of water?" asked Jumpo. "Ah, why indeed?" said Uncle Wiggily. "Well, the truth of the matter is that I have no drinking cup; so how can I get a drink?" "That is easy," said Jumpo. "Do as we boys do. Lie down flat on your face, and sip up the water. Here, I'll show you," and Jumpo stretched out on the ground, and took a long drink from the spring. "Very fine--for you," said Uncle Wiggily. "I tried that way, but every time I began to sip up the water it squirted up my nose, and that tickles me, and I have to sneeze, and when I sneeze I can't drink. No one could. You just try it. Sneeze, please." So Jumpo did, and surely enough he couldn't drink and sneeze at the same time. "Did you try to dip up some in the top of your hat?" asked Jumpo. "Yes," said Uncle Wiggily, "but my hat is a tall silk one, with holes in to let out the hot air, and the water all runs out before I can drink it." "I'll try my cap," said the monkey boy, and he did but all the water ran out of that as soon as it was dipped up. "Oh, what shall I do?" said Uncle Wiggily. "I am afraid I shall die of thirst, for my rheumatism hurts so that I can't walk very fast and it will take me a week to get home." Then Jumpo thought real hard, and he suddenly exclaimed: "Oh, I know the very thing! I will make you a paper cup." "A paper cup!" spoke the rabbit. "One cannot drink out of a paper cup." "I will prove it to you," said Jumpo. "Our teacher showed us how to make paper cups that would last long enough to get a good drink from." Then the monkey boy took a piece of paper from his pad that was strapped in with his schoolbooks and he folded it and creased it and folded it again, doubling it over until he had a cute little paper cup. Then he opened it out and dipped it into the water and held it up for Uncle Wiggily to drink. "Well, I do declare!" exclaimed the rabbit, as he drank the water. "That's fine." Then he drank some more until he had enough, and by leaning on Jumpo's shoulder he managed to walk along toward home. Then, all of a sudden, a big black bear jumped out of the woods crying: "I'm going to eat you both!" But what did Jumpo do? Why, he scooped up a paper cupful of water and threw it in the bear's eyes and made him sneeze, and the bear was so scared that he cried out, "Wow! Wow! Wow!" three times and ran away. Then Uncle Wiggily and Jumpo went to where Jacko was waiting for them, and a hot peanut wagon came along and the old gentleman rabbit bought each of the monkey boys a bag full, and they went home, helping Uncle Wiggily all the way. Now, that's all to-night, if you please; but the next story I'll tell you will be about the Kinkytails blowing bubbles--that is, if the soapdish doesn't jump up and bite the bathroom towel and make it cry. STORY XXIV THE KINKYTAILS BLOW BUBBLES "Oh, dear, I wonder what we can do to-day?" exclaimed Jacko Kinkytail, as he got up one Saturday morning and saw that it was raining quite hard. "Yes, isn't it too bad," said his brother, the green monkey. "Here it is Saturday, when there is no school, and we can't go out and play. Oh, dear!" "Oh, my!" cried Mamma Kinkytail, as she came in to see if her boys were ready for breakfast. "Why are you so sad?" "I guess you'd be sad if you couldn't go out and play," answered Jacko, as he parted his hair on the left side and took the kinky spots out of his tail where he had slept on it in the night. "We'll see if we can't have some fun in the house," his mamma said. "Just you get your breakfasts and then you boys can help me dust a bit. Then I'll think up some way so you may have some fun, even if it rains." "Oh, goody!" cried Jacko and Jumpo together, and they jumped up and down, and Jacko climbed on Jumpo's back and tried to touch the ceiling, only Jumpo toppled over and they both fell right down on top of the bed, so they weren't hurt. "Now, if you'd only jump around, and help me dust, it would be better than jumping on the bed," said their mamma with a laugh. So they got some old rags, and soon all the furniture was polished so shiny that you could see yourself standing upside down in it. "Now for the fun!" said Mrs. Kinkytail. "Jacko, you get me some bowls with warm water in them, and, Jumpo, you shave up some of that nice smelling soap in the bathroom." "Are you going to wash us, ma?" asked Jumpo, scared like. "No, indeed. You will have your baths tonight. This is a little trick I am going to do for you. While you are getting the soap and water and bowls I will go to the telephone. But you mustn't listen to what I say." Well, of course, the monkey boys promised, and they got the things their mamma told them to, while she was telephoning. Then she showed them how to mix up the soap and water in the bowls. Just as this was finished the door bell rang. "I wonder who that can be?" said Jacko, surprised like. "Suppose you go and see," answered his mother with a smile. Jacko went to the front door and looked down toward the ground, for you know the monkeys' house was up in a high tree. In the rain he saw three duck children standing there. "Oh, it's Lulu and Alice and Jimmie Wibblewobble!" cried Jacko in delight. "Oh, how did you happen to come in all the rain?" "Why, your mamma telephoned for us," said Jimmie, as he wiggled his wings to toss off some of the water, for you know the ducks didn't need umbrellas. "Oh, come right up!" cried Jumpo, who had also run to the door. "We're going to have fun. Come up." "But how can we, when there are no stairs?" asked Lulu. "Wait, I'll let down the basket," spoke Jacko, and soon he lowered a basket, fastened to a rope. This was always kept for visitors, but the monkeys could climb up without it. Into the basket Alice and Lulu and Jimmie stepped, and Jacko and Jumpo pulled them up, for monkeys are very strong. "Come right in, Jimmie, and your sisters, too," invited Mrs. Kinkytail. "Did you bring the pipes, Jimmie?" "Yes, ma'am," said the boy duck. "What pipes?" Jumpo wanted to know. "Some nice, new, clean clay pipes, that you are going to blow bubbles with," explained his mamma. "That is the good time I have made for you. You are going to have a soap-bubble party. Now, children, come right out in the kitchen and the party will begin." "Oh, how lovely!" cried Alice Wibblewobble, as she looked in a glass to see if her hair ribbon was on straight. "I love soap bubbles." "So do I," said Lulu, whistling just like a boy. Out in the kitchen a soft cloth had been spread on the floor for the bubbles to fall on, so they wouldn't get hurt. And Jimmie put the new pipes on the table beside the bowls of soap and water. "Now, begin," said Mamma Kinkytail. So each one dipped a pipe into the soapy water and began to blow. Oh, what fine bubbles they made! Some were white, and some blue, and some green, and some red--just like the rainbow colors. Lulu blew a very big bubble, almost as big as the moon looks, and all of a sudden it burst, making her sneeze like the time when Uncle Wiggily got the water up his nose. Then Jacko blew a bubble and bounced it on the soft cloth until it looked like a football rolling along. "Oh, see mine!" cried Alice, as she shook one off her pipe. It floated about the room. "It's on Jumpo's head!" said Alice. And, surely enough, it was, only it didn't stay there very long, as it burst. And Jimmie Wibblewobble blew one that almost reached the ceiling. Then Jumpo blew two at once, like twins, and they stayed on the cloth a long time. Oh! They were having such fun that they didn't even think of the rain. They blew hundreds of bubbles, and laughed and shouted until you would have thought there were a dozen children at the party. And then, all of a sudden, something happened. All at once there was a noise at the window, and a great big black bear poked his head in. He gave a growl and cried: "Ah, ha! Now I'll have plenty for my supper. I am very fond of monkeys and ducks. I'm glad I climbed up the tree to get you. All ready now, I'm coming in!" "You get right out of here, you bad bear!" cried Lulu. "No, I will not," said the bear, savage like. "I'll go tell my mamma if you don't," said Jacko, for Mrs. Kinkytail wasn't in the kitchen just then. "I'm not afraid!" growled the bear. "Here I come in after you." Well, he was just getting in through the window, when Lulu Wibblewobble cried: "Oh, let's blow a whole lot of bubbles at him and scare him!" And that's what those brave animal children did. They dipped their pipes in the soap and water and blew forty-'leven-sixteen-twenty-one bubbles and shook them at the bear. And my! how frightened he was. He'd never seen soap bubbles before, and he thought they were red and green and yellow and blue cannon balls going to hit him on his nose and toes. Quickly he turned around and crawled out of the window and down the pole before any of the bubbles could burst and make him sneeze, and he ran off to the woods, and so that's how he didn't eat anybody that night. Then Mrs. Kinkytail came in and heard what happened, and she said Lulu was a very bright little duck girl to think of it. Then the mamma monkey called: "Come into the dining-room now and have ice cream and cake." And, oh! wasn't it good! Then they blew more bubbles and soon the party was over, and Jacko and Jumpo were glad it had rained. Now on the next page, if the boy who lives in the corner house doesn't lose his roller skates down our chimney and make it sneeze, you may read about Jacko and the paper chain. STORY XXV JACKO AND THE PAPER CHAIN "Now sit up nice and straight, children," said the owl school teacher one day, "and pay close attention. I am going to show you how to make paper chains, so you can decorate the Christmas trees with them when the time comes. I have shown you how to make paper cups, and this time it will be paper chains." "And the paper cup was very useful," thought Jumpo, as he remembered the time he had given Uncle Wiggily a drink from it. "I don't see how you can make chains out of paper," said Jacko in a whisper to his brother. "Oh, you must not talk in school!" exclaimed the teacher quickly, "for it takes your minds off your lessons. Now look at me and do as I do." But even when the teacher took out some squares of prettily colored paper and began cutting them in strips with her scissors, Jacko couldn't understand how she was going to make a chain that way. "For chains are made of iron or steel or silver or gold, and not paper," he thought. "But I'll wait and see." The teacher took a narrow strip of red paper, and she pasted the two ends together, making a little ring. Then she slipped another narrow strip of paper, colored green, inside the first red ring and she fastened the ends of the second strip together, making a second ring, right inside the first, like a watch chain. And so she went on until she had about forty-sixteen rings all fastened together, and that was a paper chain. "Now you try to make one," said the owl teacher, and all the animal children did. Susie Littletail, the rabbit, made a very fine chain of the most beautiful colors, and her brother Sammie made two paper chains, while the Bushytail squirrel brothers made some yellow chains that looked like gold. "You may each take some paper with you," spoke the teacher when school was nearly over, "and make some chains at home." So they all went up to her desk to get the paper, but Jacko Kinkytail, the red boy monkey, was a little late because he couldn't get his book strap fastened. And all there was left for him was some black paper. All the pretty colored pieces had been given away. "Never mind," said the teacher, kindly, "I'm sure Jacko will make a very good black paper chain. Now school is over. Run home." So they all ran home. Suddenly Jumpo Kinkytail happened to think that his mamma had told him to go to the store on his way from school, and bring her a yeast cake. "Will you come with me?" Jumpo asked his brother. "Oh, I don't want to," answered Jacko. "But I'll wait here in the woods for you." "All right," said Jumpo, so off he started to the store. Well, Jacko sat down on a hollow stump, taking good care not to fall in it and get his long tail all tangled up. He had his squares of black paper with him, and also a pair of scissors and some paste which the teacher had given him. "I think I will start to make my paper chain now," he said to himself when he had been sitting there a little while. "Then I won't have to do it at home, and Jumpo and I can go for a little ride in our auto." So he cut the black paper into strips, and made rings of them, fastening them together, one inside the other, until he had a nice long chain. "Ha! That is very fine!" thought the monkey boy. "I will have it all done when Jumpo comes back." He was holding up the chain by the end, to see how long it was, when, all of a sudden he heard a noise in the bushes. At first he thought it was his brother, coming with the yeast cake, but, somehow it didn't sound like the green monkey. It was a crashing-bashing-rashing-smashing sort of a noise, and Jacko began to be afraid, thinking it might be the burglar fox. And then, before he could stand up and sing a song about four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a rice pudding, out from the bushes came the savage skillery-scalery alligator with the double jointed tail. Oh, but that alligator was savage! And how he glared at Jacko with his mean, green eyes. Then the bad creature smacked his jaws together like an automobile running over a pair of roller skates. "Ah, ha!" cried the alligator. "At last I have a monkey for supper. I would like two--a red one and a green one--but as long as there is only a red one I'll eat him." "Are you really going to eat me?" asked Jacko, dropping the paper chain and the paste and the scissors. He was real scared. "I am," said the alligator, "and if your brother was here I'd eat him also." Then Jacko was glad his brother hadn't come back. Nearer and nearer came the alligator, with his mouth wide open. And, oh! how frightened Jacko was. He didn't know what to do. "Please, Mr. Alligator, don't eat me!" he cried. "Yes, I must eat you," said the unpleasant creature with the double-jointed tail. And he stood up on the end of it and waggled his head up and down and sideways and opened his mouth still wider. Well, of course, Jacko didn't want to be eaten up, but he didn't know how to get out of it, until all of a sudden, he thought of a plan. His paper chain! It was black, and looked just like one made of strong iron. Perhaps he could fool the alligator. All at once the red monkey boy caught up the rings of paper, all pasted together. Very quickly he threw the chain around the alligator's neck, and then he fastened both ends of the chain to the stump with strong paste. And he had the alligator fast in the paper chain. Then Jacko jumped to one side and cried out: "Now you can't get me, bad Mr. Alligator, for I have you chained fast to the stump! You can't get away, and you can't eat me!" Well, that alligator looked at the paper links of the paper chain around his neck and fast to the stump. And as the paper was black, and looked like iron, the savage creature with the double-jointed tail really thought it was iron. So he didn't try to get away, for he knew he couldn't break iron, but if he had known that it was only paper he could have broken away as easily as not, just by one flip-flop of his tail, or by biting the paper with his strong teeth. But you see he didn't know. "Now, I have you fast!" cried Jacko. "Oh, please let me go," begged the alligator. He it was who was scared now. "Never!" exclaimed Jacko. "I am going to run and meet my brother and we will go home. You can't catch us, for you are held fast." So Jacko ran to meet Jumpo and told him how he had caught the alligator with a paper chain, and Jumpo was very glad. Then the monkey brothers went safely home, and the alligator stayed in the woods chained fast to the stump. But in the night it rained, and the water melted the paste so that paper chain came all apart. Then the alligator was loose, and when he saw how he had been fooled with just paper he was as mad as anything, yes, really he was. But he couldn't catch Jacko and Jumpo. So that's all now, but if the pretty little girl on our street doesn't sweep the dried leaves up in a pile and cover up the pussy cat, so it can't go to the moving pictures, I'll tell you next about the Kinkytails and the chirping cricket. STORY XXVI THE KINKYTAILS AND THE CRICKET One day, as Jacko and Jumpo Kinkytail were coming home from school they happened to go past a pile of stones in the woods. And just as they got near to the stones they saw something black on top. "Oh!" exclaimed Jacko, "perhaps that is one of the rings from my black paper chain that I fastened the alligator with." "Maybe it is," agreed Jumpo. "And if it is, why the alligator may be around here. We had better be careful. Let's run home." Well, they were just going to run, not knowing the alligator had gone away as I told you in the previous story, when the black thing on the pile of stones gave a jump and disappeared down in a crack between two rocks. "Ha! That is very funny!" said Jacko. "I didn't know that pieces of paper could jump." "Me either," said Jumpo. "Let's go up and take a look. Maybe it isn't a piece of your paper chain after all; and the alligator may not be there." So they went closer to the pile of stones, and all at once, and as quickly as you can eat a dish of ice cream on a hot day, they heard a little voice singing. And this was the song, which goes to the tune of "Rinky-tinky diddily-dum," "Let's be jolly, don't be sad, Let's be good and not be bad. If you fall and hurt your nose, Dance upon your tippy-toes. "Always try to sing or play, Laughter drives dull care away. Whistle with a happy shout, Music turns the world about." "My, you must be a jolly fellow, whoever you are!" said Jacko. "Oh, no; I am the most miserable creature in all the world," was the sorrowful answer from beneath the pile of stones. "Then why do you sing about happiness; and who are you?" asked Jumpo. "I am a chirping black cricket," was the answer. "I was sitting on this stone pile when I happened to see you coming. I thought you were two bears, so I jumped down in here and now I cannot get out again, for every time I try to jump out I bump my nose. Are you really bears?" "No, indeed; we're two monkey boys," spoke Jacko. "But we will help you out of the stone pile. Come, Jumpo, let's toss the stones away, one by one, and the cricket can get out." So they did this, and pretty soon the little black creature could crawl out. "Well, are you happy now?" asked Jacko. "Oh, no; I am very sad, for I know winter will soon be here and I will freeze to death," said the cricket. "But still I sing my joyous song as I want other people to be happy. I am much obliged for helping me out, but I will soon be dead." "Oh, nonsensicalness! Don't talk so!" exclaimed Jumpo. "Winter isn't at all bad. Think of the skating, and the snow, and riding down hill on your sled, and making forts and snow men and--" "Yes, that's all right for any one who can keep warm, but I can't," said the black cricket. "Oh, I am so miserable," and then he began to sing again about always being happy and not sad. "I think we can easily fix this," said Jacko. "We will take you home with us, Mr. Cricket, and you can stay in the warm fireplace all winter. Then you will keep warm until summer comes again, and you can sing to us as we study our lessons, for some of them are so hard that they make us sad." "That will be lovely," spoke the cricket. "I'll come with you gladly. But first throw away the rest of the pile of stones so no one else will fall down among them as I did." So the monkey boys did this, and just as Jacko tossed away the last stone the big black bear popped out of the bushes most unexpectedly, and the stone hit him on the nose. "Oh! I'll eat you up for that," he cried, and he made a jump for the monkey boys. "Run! Run!" called the cricket, "and I'll bump into his eyes and blind him so he can't see you." So the monkey boys ran as fast as they could, and the black cricket gave a big hop and hopped right up against the bear's eyes and for a minute he couldn't see. That gave Jacko and Jumpo a chance to get away, and they ran on and on and pretty soon the cricket caught up to them, hopping away from the bear, and they all went home to the monkeys' house. Mrs. Kinkytail was very glad to see the cricket, who would have been frozen if he had had to sleep outdoors many more cold nights. She made him a warm bed near the fireplace by putting some cotton inside her sewing thimble. "Oh, this is most delightful," said the cricket as he snuggled down inside the thimble under the warm cotton. "This is the nicest place I ever slept in." Then he sang his jolly song again, and Jacko and Jumpo did their lessons and soon the cricket sang himself to sleep and it was time for everybody to go to bed. But listen! Something happened in the middle of the night. That bad bear was so mad that along about 12 o'clock, when all was still and quiet in the monkeys' house, he sneaked up and climbed the tree until he was at the front door. "Now I will go in and eat them all up," thought the bear, smacking his lips and gnashing his sharp teeth. So with his long toenails he unlocked the door and went softly into the house, where Jacko and Jumpo and their papa and mamma were fast asleep. No one heard the bear come in--that is, no one but the little black cricket in the thimble near the fireplace. He heard the shaggy, savage creature, and all at once that cricket chirped and cried out: "Wake up! Wake up, everybody! You'll all be eaten!" And the cricket sang his happy song so loudly that Jacko and Jumpo and Mr. and Mrs. Kinkytail awakened at once, just as though they had heard an alarm clock. Then Mr. Kinkytail took a club and began beating on the bottom of the dishpan, and the bear heard it and he thought it was the fire engines coming after him, so he jumped out of the front door to get away. And he jumped so hard that he fell to the ground and broke two of its toenails, and it served him right, I think. So that's how the cricket saved the Kinkytails from being robbed and eaten up, and they were very thankful to him. And he stayed with them all winter, and sometimes he had cherry pie for supper. Now next I'm going to tell you about the Kinkytails and the doll's house--that is, if the alarm clock will stop making figures all over my paper so I can write the story, and if the coffee pot doesn't step on the rolling pin's toes. STORY XXVII THE KINKYTAILS AND THE DOLL'S HOUSE "Now, boys," said Mrs. Kinkytail to her two monkey sons one morning, "this is Saturday, and there isn't any school, so I wish you would go on an errand for me." "Where is it, mamma?" asked Jacko. "Do you want us to go to the store to get some molasses, so we can make candy?" "No, indeed, I do not!" she exclaimed. "I have plenty of molasses in the house, and I can't let you make candy today, though I may some other time." "Then do you want us to get some corn so we can pop it, and make popcorn balls?" asked Jumpo, trying to stand up on the end of his tail. But he couldn't do it very well, so he wound his tail around the gas fixture in the ceiling and hung head downward. [Illustration] "Don't do that," said his mother. "All the blood may run to your head and there won't be any in your feet, and you may get the epizootic. But I don't want any popcorn from the store. What I want you to do is to go over to Grandfather Goosey Gander's house and borrow the chopper machine he grinds up things in. I am going to make some cabbage chow-chow and some chew-chew and some tomato pickles and I want to grind up all the things in the food chopper. "So hurry off, and when you come back you may take turns grinding up the things in the chopper, and here is a penny for each of you." "Oh, goody!" exclaimed Jacko. "You are very kind, mother." "She certainly is," agreed Jumpo. "And maybe Grandfather Goosey Gander will give us some peppermint candies. Oh, I'm glad it's Saturday, and I'm glad we're going after the chipper-chopper." So they started off over the fields and through the woods together, hopping and skipping and jumping. Sometimes they held each other's paws, and sometimes they twined their tails together and went along that way. Pretty soon they came to where Grandfather Goosey Gander lived. The old gentleman was very glad to see them, and, after he had given them the food chipper-chopper, which he used to grind up his corn in to make cornmeal, the goose grandfather said: "I wonder if you two chaps know anyone who likes peppermint candy?" "Yes, sir!" exclaimed Jacko and Jumpo at once, very quickly. "Where are such boys to be found?" asked Grandfather Goosey Gander, and he made-believe look all around over the top of his spectacles. "Right here!" exclaimed Jacko and Jumpo more quickly. "Bless my gizzard!" cried the old goosey gentleman. "I never thought you liked such things." But he gave them some, just the same, and they started back home with the chipper-chopper. But on the way something dreadful happened. Just as those two boys were going through a dark place in the woods there was a rustling in the bushes and out jumped the burglar fox. "Ah, ha! Now I have you!" he cried. But he spoke too soon, for, just as he made a grab for Jacko and Jumpo, they darted away and ran as fast as anything, if not faster. The foxy fox ran also, and as foxes are good runners, he was soon almost up to Jacko and Jumpo. "We never can get away from him," said Jacko. "Never," agreed Jumpo, "and we haven't even one roller skate between us now. Oh, what shall we do?" Well, they didn't know, and that fox was coming closer and closer, and he almost had them, when, just as the monkey boys turned around a hollow stump corner they saw a little house. Oh, it was the cutest little house, just about large enough for them to get in, and not much more. "Quick!" cried Jacko. "Into that house with you, Jumpo, and we'll lock the door." "Whose house is it?" asked the green monkey. "Never mind. Don't stop to ask questions. Skip in," cried Jacko. So in Jumpo skipped and his brother was right after him, and they were only just in time, for as they shut and locked the door the fox ran slam-bang up against it, if you will pardon me saying so at such an exciting time. "Come out of there!" called the fox, banging on the door with his paws. "Indeed, we will not!" answered Jacko and Jumpo most politely, holding tightly to the food chopper. And just then they heard some one walking upstairs in the little house and a voice called down: "Who is there? Who is knocking at my door?" "Goodness me, sakes alive, and a sweet potato!" cried Jacko. "Some one lives in this little bit of a house! Think of it!" "It does seem so," spoke Jumpo. "I wonder who it can be?" And just then some one came down stairs and into the front room, where the monkey boys were hiding, and who should it be but a doll--yes, a wonderfully nice lady doll in a blue dress--and when she was wound up by a spring in her back she could walk and talk; and she was wound up now. "Well, of all things!" exclaimed the doll, speaking in a squeaky sort of voice. "What are you monkey boys doing here?" "We are hiding from the fox," said Jacko. "He chased us on our way home from Grandfather Goosey Gander's house and we ran in here. I hope you are not angry." "Indeed, I am not," said the doll, kindly. "Where is the fox now?" And just then the bad fox banged on the door of the doll's house again and cried out: "Hey! I want you monkey boys!" "Oh, the savage creature!" exclaimed the doll. "He'll be wanting to eat me next. You see, I'm out here for my health. I belong to a little girl, but she had my house brought out here so I could get the woodland air. And I'm much stronger now. But I'll fix that fox." "How?" asked Jacko. "Why, you go close to the front door," said the doll, "and pretend that you are coming out. Rattle the knob, you know. Then I'll go to an upstairs window, right over the door, and when the fox is standing there I'll pour molasses on him and he'll be so sticky that he can't even eat a toothpick." "Fine!" cried Jacko, so he and his brother rattled the door knob. "Ah! Here comes my monkey dinner!" said the fox, smacking his lips hungry like. And just then that brave doll in the blue dress opened the window over the fox's head and poured a whole dish pan of molasses on him. "Wow! Oh, wow! Bow-wow!" cried that fox. Oh, I wish you could have seen him. He was so stuck up from the tip of his toes to the tip of his nose that he was all kerflumixed and kerflimixed and he ran off in the woods taking his tail with him. So he didn't eat Jacko or Jumpo, and soon they came out, and after thanking the brave doll in the blue dress they went safely home and helped make chow-chow-chew-chew pickles in the chipper-chopper. Now, in case the tomato can doesn't roll over in bed and fall out on the floor so it bumps the kitty cat's nose, I'll tell you next about Jacko and the train of cars. STORY XXVIII JACKO AND THE TRAIN OF CARS "May we go over to Sammie Littletail's house and play this afternoon, mamma?" asked Jacko Kinkytail as he and his brother came home from school. It was about three days after the monkey boys had hidden from the fox in the doll's house. "What about your school lessons and home work?" asked the monkey boys' mother. "Oh, we both did fine to-day, and we both went to the head of the class," said Jumpo. "First I went up and then Jacko went, and we haven't much home work to do, only some spelling words to learn." "Then you may go," said Mrs. Kinkytail, "but be sure to be home for supper." So they promised, and away they hopped through the woods toward the place where the Littletail rabbit family lived. "What shall we play when we get there?" asked Jumpo, as he wound his tail around the low limb of a tree and swung himself across a little brook as nicely as you can fold your napkin. "Oh, we'll play tag, and hide-and-go-seek, and maybe football," spoke Jacko. "Perhaps Susie Littletail has been helping her mother bake a cake or a pie, and she might give us some. I'm not saying for sure," said Jacko, as he winked both his eyes, "but she might." "Oh, I wish she would!" cried Jumpo. "When we go in, we'll just sort of look hungry, and when they ask us what's the matter we'll say we haven't had any pie or cake in a long, long time. For you know mamma doesn't allow us to ask for things to eat when we go calling; but that wouldn't be asking, would it?" "I guess not," said Jacko, slow and thoughtful like. Well, they were soon at the rabbit children's house and they saw Sammie Littletail outside. He was playing with his football, and when he saw Jacko and Jumpo he cried: "Oh, goody! Now we can have a game," and he kicked that ball away up in the air, so high that when it came down it stuck in the top of a tree. "Now see what you did, Sammie!" cried his sister Susie, sorrowfully. "You can't get your ball," and there she stood in the door, with an apron on, and that apron was covered with flour dust, yes, really it was. "Hey! What did I tell you?" whispered Jumpo to Jacko. "They're baking cake, all right. See the flour on Susie's apron. I'm going to look hungry." "And I'm going to get the football," said Jacko. "Maybe that will surprise Susie, and she'll offer us some cake without us looking hungry. Here I go." "Good!" cried Jumpo, and before he could say anything more up the tree scrambled the red monkey to where the football was caught on a crooked branch. "Look out! Here it comes down!" cried Jacko, in about a minute, and, surely enough, down came the football bouncing up and down like a bowl full of jelly on Christmas morning. "Oh, fine!" cried Sammie. "I thought I would never get it back again. Isn't there something I can give you and your brother, Jacko?" "Well," said Jacko, slow and hungry like, "we might have--" "I know the very thing!" cried Susie. "I have just baked some cherry pies for Uncle Wiggily Longears and I know he'd want you to have some. Come in and I'll cut one." "Oh, if this isn't the best luck!" exclaimed Jacko. "We didn't have to ask, so it's all right; eh, Jumpo?" "Sure," said Jumpo in a whisper. I just wish _you_ could have had some of that cherry pie, but of course you couldn't, for there wasn't any left. Then pretty soon the monkey boys and Sammie went outside to play football again. And, all of a sudden, as Jumpo kicked the ball, it bounced on Sammie's nose and made it bleed. Oh, how that poor rabbit boy's nose did bleed. He cried and cried again, and Susie and his mamma, the muskrat lady housekeeper, Nurse Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy, came running out. They did all they could for him, such as putting a cold key down his back and making him chew paper, and they even put some paper under his upper lip, but it did no good, for the nose still bled. "We must send for Dr. Possum at once," said Mrs. Littletail. "He will have to come in a hurry to stop the bleeding." "Oh, if we only had our automobile, we could go very quickly," said Jacko, but they didn't have it. "Oh, I'm so sorry; it was my fault," exclaimed Jumpo. "I will run for Dr. Possum." "You never can run fast enough," exclaimed Mrs. Littletail. "Why, even an airship wouldn't be quick enough. Oh! What shall I do? Sammie may bleed to death." "Wait, I have an idea," cried Susie. "Why can't Jacko go for the doctor in Sammie's toy train of cars?" "In a toy train of cars?" exclaimed Jacko. "Yes, the engine is very big and strong, and it runs very fast. Just hitch one car to it and go for Dr. Possum." "But doesn't that engine have to run on a track?" asked Jumpo. "No, if you wind the spring up real tight it will run right over the ground without any track," said Susie, for Sammie couldn't talk on account of the nose bleed. "Hurry off, Jacko. You can ride in the cab and be the engineer and Dr. Possum can ride in the passenger coach." Quickly Mrs. Littletail wheeled out the toy engine and one car. It was quite large, plenty big enough for Jacko to get in. He and Jumpo wound up the spring real tight and then Jacko got in the engine cab. "Toot! Toot!" he blew the whistle and with a whizz and a rattle, away the engine went right along a smooth path in the woods toward Dr. Possum's house. Faster and faster rode Jacko, ringing the bell every once in a while. Faster and faster he went until he came to Dr. Possum's house. "Oh, doctor, come quick!" he cried, stopping the engine by pulling on a handle. "Sammie Littletail has the nose bleed very bad!" "I'll be with you at once," said Dr. Possum. So he took a big bottle of nose bleed medicine and into the coach he sprang. Jacko rolled the engine around and turned on the spring. Away it went back through the woods, pulling him and Dr. Possum as nicely as a stick of molasses candy. All of a sudden out from the bushes sprang the burglar fox. "Hi! Stop that train!" he cried. "I want to get on!" "No! No! Never! Never!" shouted Jacko. "Then I'll stop it!" said the bad fox. So he took a stone and put it in front of the engine but do you s'pose the engine minded that? Not a bit of it! Why, with the cow-catcher the engine just pushed the stone out of the way so that it fell over and pinched the fox on the tail, and then the engine went on faster than ever. And pretty soon they were back again at Sammie's house. Out jumped the doctor, out of his valise he took the bottle of nose-bleed medicine. "Smell of that!" he said to Sammie. And smell of it Sammie did, and in a second and a half his nose stopped bleeding and he was all better. So that's how Jacko went for the doctor in an engine and part of a toy train of cars, and that's all to this story, if you please, for then it was time for Jacko and Jumpo to go home to supper, and now it's time for you to go to bed. But the next story, in case the wallpaper doesn't fall down and get tangled up in pussy cat's oatmeal dish, will be about Jumpo and his airship. STORY XXIX JUMPO AND HIS AIRSHIP "Well, what in the world are you making now?" asked Mr. Kinkytail of his little boy Jumpo one morning, just as the papa monkey was starting to work in the hand organ factory. "Is that going to be a tent, Jumpo?" Jumpo looked up from where he was making something down in the yard. "No, papa, it isn't going to be a tent," he said. "Then what is it?" asked Mr. Kinkytail. "It's going to be an airship, to sail up in the air as the birds do," replied the little green monkey boy. "Oh, my! You never can make that!" said his papa, and he went off laughing. "Is Jacko helping you?" he asked. "No, Jacko has gone off in the automobile to give Grandfather Goosey Gander a ride," said Jumpo. "That is very kind of Jacko," spoke Mr. Kinkytail, "but I hope he doesn't upset and spill out the old gentleman duck. But you be careful not to fall out of your airship, Jumpo." So Jumpo said he would, and he went right on making it. I suppose you know what an airship is? It's something like two tablecloths fastened over some sticks, and one end is a thing like the tail of a goose, and on the other end is something like the tail of a bird, and in the middle there is a thing like a pinwheel, which goes around buzzity-buzz, and there's an engine to make the buzzity-buzz thing go. Then there are wheels like on a baby carriage, only they are blown up with air like a big bologna sausage, and that's an airship. And that is what Jumpo was making. He had two old umbrellas, and he had fastened them together, one over the other, with some strings. He had a big palm leaf fan for one tail and another fan for the other tail, and four wheels he took off an old pair of roller skates. Then he had a little toy locomotive, and he used that for the engine, and it was very good, for it went whizzing around very fast when he wound up the spring. And for the buzzity-buzz thing he had a green paper pinwheel. "Do you think your airship will sail, Jumpo?" asked Jimmie Wibblewobble, the duck boy, as he came along just then. "I'm sure it will," said the green monkey boy. "You see I get in it and sit on this seat. It's made from an old washboard that mamma didn't want. Then I start the engine and I will go rolling along over the ground. Pretty soon I will get going so fast that I'll sail up in the air, and then I'll be like a bird. Don't you want to sail with me?" "Are you going up pretty soon?" asked Jimmie, "because my dinner is nearly ready and I don't want to miss it." "Oh, I'm going up very shortly," said Jumpo. "All I've got to do is to fasten some court plaster on the wheels so they won't drop off when we're up in the air, and then I've got to take along a piece of string to tie the engine fast with, and then we'll go up. I'll bring you back in time for dinner, all right." "Then I'll go," said Jimmie. "I never have been up in an airship, and it must be fun." "I'll be glad to have you along," spoke Jumpo, "because if anything happens, you can fly down to the ground with me on your back and neither of us will get hurt." "Why, do you think anything may happen?" asked Jimmie, sort of scared like. "Well, you never can tell," answered Jumpo, as he fastened the roller skate wheels on with sticking plaster. "Airships sometimes do fall," and he whistled a funny little tune. "Bur-r-r-r-r! Wow! Wow!" exclaimed Jimmie. "I guess my mamma is calling me. I'll see you again, Jumpo. Goodbye!" "Oh, don't go. I guess nothing will happen," called the green monkey, and then Jimmie came back. Well, pretty soon the airship was finished. Oh! I wish you could have seen it, but of course you can't on account of what happened to it. I'll tell you all about it, however. "Come on, get aboard, Jimmie!" called Jumpo. "There's room for you beside me on the washboard," and he got up and so did the duck boy, and then they were ready to start. Jumpo had placed the airship on a smooth place where the roller skate wheels could go around very easily. The two umbrellas were hoisted to catch the air and the pinwheel buzzer was all ready to go bizz-buzz. "Here we go!" called Jumpo, and he started the engine. My! How the pinwheel buzzer did whirl around! Faster and faster it went until you could hardly see it. But alas and alack a-day! The airship didn't go up. "What's the matter?" asked Jimmie anxious like. "Oh, I see!" cried Jumpo, looking over the side. "I put too much court plaster on the roller skate wheels, and they're all stuck up. I'll soon fix it." Well, it didn't take him long, and once more he started the engine. Faster and faster went the buzzer. The airship began to shiver and to shake, and then all of a sudden it began rolling over the ground. "Oh, we're moving! We're moving!" cried Jimmie. "Of course we are," said Jumpo proudly. "I told you we'd fly like a bird." And then, would you believe me, that queer airship did go in the air a little distance because the wind got under the umbrellas and lifted them up. Up and up it went, with Jimmie and Jumpo in it. "Wow! Isn't this great?" cried Jumpo. "Yes, we're right over our duck pond," said Jimmie. "I hope we don't fall." But alas! Just as he said that, something happened. The engine went so fast that the spring flew out of it. One umbrella turned inside out and the other outside in. The sticking plaster fell off, and the roller skate wheels dropped into the pond with a splash. Then the whole airship began falling into the pond. "Oh, save me! Save me!" cried Jumpo. "I will!" cried Jimmie. "Get on my back." So Jumpo did this and Jimmie spread out his strong wings and flew safely to the ground with Jumpo, while the airship fell into the duck pond with a big splash--splash--splash--and it was drowned, I believe, for no one ever saw it again. "Well," said Jumpo, as he got off Jimmie's back when they had landed, "I guess I don't know how to make airships. But I'm much obliged to you. I'm glad you came along." "I don't know whether I am glad or not," answered Jimmie, as he looked at a place where a stone had bruised his foot. "But anyhow I'm sure you don't know how to build airships that will fly. I'll stick to my own wings after this." And he did! Now, next in case the man who cleans our windows doesn't put the soap in the sugar bowl and make the gold fish sing like a canary bird, I'll tell you about Jumpo and the talcum powder. STORY XXX JUMPO AND THE TALCUM POWDER Jumpo Kinkytail was home all alone in the cute little monkey-house in the top of the tree, so the mosquitoes couldn't get in unless they flew very high. And I'm going to tell you the true and only reason why Jumpo was home alone. It was because his mamma had gone down to the five and ten-cent store to get a new piano with a dishpan on top, so she could wash her dishes and play the piano at the same time. And Jacko was at school, but Jumpo had been kept home because he had a cold. "So you will be in charge of the house while I am away," said his mamma, as she started for the five and ten-cent store. "All right, and I'll take good care of the house," said Jumpo. And he felt quite pleased to think that he was old enough to take care of a whole big house all by himself. "I wonder what I can do to make the time pass quickly until Jacko comes home from school," thought Jumpo as he looked out of the window. "It's a bit lonesome, so I guess I'll dust some of the furniture for mamma." He took a dust rag in each of his two front paws, and also one in his kinkytail, making three in all, and he went about the rooms knocking the dust off the furniture on to the floor, where no one would see it. When Jumpo got tired of that he read a story book. He read about a big giant with a blue nose and how one day a yellow dwarf saw the giant asleep and painted his nose green and the birds used to think the nose was grass and they would nestle down on the giant and tickle him so that he sneezed like thunder booming in the sky. "Well, it will be an hour yet before mamma or Jacko comes home," said Jumpo, as he looked at the clock after finishing the story. "What can I do next?" So he looked around but he couldn't see anything, and he was just going to knock some more dust off the furniture, when he heard some one crying out-of-doors. "My! I wonder who that can be?" he thought. So he looked down from the front porch, and there on the ground at the foot of the tree was Buddy Pigg, the little guinea pig boy. And he was crying very hard. "What's the matter?" asked Jumpo. "Oh, a big mosquito has bitten me!" said Buddy, "and my leg is all swelling up from it, so that I can hardly walk." "Oh, that's too bad," said Jumpo. "Come up here and I will put some stuff on to make it better." "I can't climb that high tree," said Buddy, sad like. "No more you can!" exclaimed Jumpo. "Wait a minute." So Jumpo let down a basket fastened to a string and Buddy got in it--I mean he got in the basket, not the string, you understand, of course. Then Jumpo pulled him up. "Now let's see where that mosquito bite is," said the monkey boy, and Buddy showed him. "I should say it was a big one!" cried Jumpo. "That needs some witch hazel on it right away." Well, Jumpo put a lot of witch hazel on the bite, but that only seemed to make it worse. "I know what's good for it," said Buddy. "It's some stuff my mamma uses." "What is it?" asked Jumpo. "Talcum powder," replied the guinea pig. "It's a white, smooth powder, and it comes in a tin box and smells nice." "What smells, the powder or the box?" asked Jumpo. "The powder smells, of course," said Buddy. "Have you any?" "Yes, I guess so," answered Jumpo. "Let's look in the bathroom. Mother isn't home to-day," so into the bathroom those two animal boys went, and they hunted all over for the talcum powder. "There it is, up on that shelf!" said Buddy at last. "I can tell by the cover of the box. You just get it down and smell of it." So Jumpo curled up his tail, reached it up and wound it around the box just as an elephant in the circus winds his trunk around a peanut, and the monkey boy lifted down the talcum powder box. "How does it smell?" asked Buddy. "Fine!" said Jumpo. "Have a smell yourself. It's talcum powder, all right." So they decided that it was, but when Jumpo tried to get some powder out none would come. There were little holes in the top of the box, but they were stopped up somehow or other, and there poor Buddy was suffering from the mosquito bite, and they couldn't get powder to put on it. "I know what I'll do!" exclaimed Jumpo. "I'll just take off the whole cover and then the powder will come out fine." So he sat down on the bathroom floor beside Buddy, and they both tried to get the cover off the box. But it was on very tight, and at last Jumpo said: "I'm going to knock it off with the hair brush!" So he pounded on the top of the tin talcum powder box. Once, twice, three times he pounded and then, all of a sudden-- "Piff! Paff! Poof!" The air was full of a fine, white powder just like snow. It drifted and sifted all over the bathroom, and scattered itself all over Buddy and Jumpo. Into their fur it went, all over Jumpo's fuzzy little face, and even down to his hairy paws. And Buddy was just as bad. You see the cover came off the box so quickly that they didn't either of them have time to get out of the way. But, oh, goodness! You should have seen that bathroom. There was a pile of talcum powder on the floor, and some in the bathtub, and some in the wash basin, and some on the towel rack, and even on the hair brush, just as if it had been painted white; what do you think of that? "Oh, just look at yourself!" cried Buddy to Jumpo. "You look like a snow man!" "And look at yourself!" said Jumpo. "You look like a fuzzy, white, woolly dog." "But it smells good!" cried Buddy, "and my mosquito bite is all better." "And I guess we'd better try to scoop up some of this powder before my mother comes home," said Jumpo. So he and Buddy were brushing it up off the floor when, all at once, the front door opened, and in came Mrs. Kinkytail. She saw the two white, powder-covered little animal boys and she screamed: "Oh my! What has happened! Fire! Police! Burglars! Who are those two queer white things in my bathroom? Where is my little boy Jumpo? Has some one taken him?" "Here I am!" cried Jumpo, with a laugh, for his mamma really didn't know him, all white as he was. And she didn't know Buddy, either. "Are you sure it's you, Jumpo, and not a white rabbit?" she asked, after a while. "Oh, yes, mamma," he said, "I was putting some talcum powder on Buddy's mosquito bite and--and--and the cover came off all at once." "Off the box, not off my bite," said Buddy, careful-like. "Oh, I see!" exclaimed Mrs. Kinkytail with a laugh. "Well, I hope the bite is better? And now I must get the whisk broom, and dust the powder off you boys! Oh, what sights you are!" But they were soon clean and they smelled like perfume for a long time after that, and the next time Jumpo wanted talcum powder he asked his mamma for it, and he didn't try to open the box himself. Now, if the bottle of perfume doesn't spill itself into the bathtub and make a smell like a pocket handkerchief, I'll tell you next about Jacko washing the dishes. STORY XXXI HOW JACKO WASHED THE DISHES One morning, when Jacko Kinkytail, the red monkey boy, woke up, he heard his papa rattling the pots and pans and dishes out in the kitchen. "Ha! That's queer," said Jacko. "I wonder what papa is doing out there, and I wonder why mother isn't up?" Then he looked over in the bed where Jumpo slept, and Jumpo wasn't there. "Why, where's Jumpo?" thought Jacko, and then he happened to remember that Jumpo had gone on a visit to Buddy Pigg, and had stayed there all night. So that's why he wasn't home. "But still I wonder what papa is doing in the kitchen?" said Jacko to himself. "I guess I'll get up and find out." Then he smelled the coffee being made, and pretty soon he saw his papa going upstairs with a hot cup of coffee in his hand. "What is the matter, papa?" asked Jacko. "Your mother has a headache," answered the monkey gentleman, "so I got up to make her some coffee and get the breakfast. And you may help if you like." "Oh, I'm so sorry mamma has a headache," spoke Jacko, "but I am glad I can help you get the breakfast." So Jacko and his papa had a pretty good meal; of course, not as nice as when Mrs. Kinkytail got it, but pretty nice, only Mr. Kinkytail put salt on the table instead of sugar, and he put on the molasses pitcher instead of the cream jug. But still they got along pretty well, though coffee with molasses and salt in it isn't very good. "Now Jacko," said Mr. Kinkytail, as he got ready to go down to the hand organ factory, where he worked, "your mamma will not be able to get up to-day, so I want you to stay home from school and help about the house all you can." "I will!" exclaimed Jacko, "and I'll even wash the dishes." Then he went up very, very softly to the room were his mamma was lying down with a headache, and he crept in, oh, so gently, so as not to make it ache any worse, and he whispered: "I love you, mamma, and I'm going to wash the dishes." [Illustration] "You are a dear, good monkey boy," she said, as she kissed him. Then he went out softly and closed the door. "Now to wash the dishes!" exclaimed the red monkey, as he got the soap and hot water and a pan and a rag, and--well, whatever else you have to have to wash dishes. It's been a long time since I washed any, but I used to do it when I was a little boy and my mamma was sick, so I know boys can do it. Well, now, all of a sudden, as Jacko was washing away at the dishes, and, maybe, splashing a little sudsy water on the floor (mind I'm not saying that last part for sure, but maybe), all of a sudden, I say, he heard some one down on the ground calling at him: "Sissy boy! Sissy boy! Has to wash the dishes! Girly boy! Has to wear an apron! Oh, what do I know about you!" And, looking out of a window, Jacko saw Mugsie Smugsie, another monkey boy, peeking in at him. Mugsie Smugsie was a bad sort of a monkey boy. He didn't mean to be bad, but he just couldn't help it, and very often he called the other animal children names, and threw stones at them and did such like things. "Sissy boy! Sissy boy!" cried Mugsie Smugsie again, and he made a face at Jacko. Jacko was just going to call something back at Mugsie Smugsie, when all at once along came Susie Littletail, the rabbit girl. She heard what Mugsie Smugsie was saying. "Shame on you!" cried Susie, pointing her paw at Mugsie Smugsie. "Shame on you to make fun of Jacko. Jacko is a good boy and he stayed home from school today to wash the dishes for his mamma because she had a headache. I know, for I met Mr. Kinkytail as he was on his way to work, and he told me. So I asked my mamma if I couldn't come over to help Mrs. Kinkytail do the work. Shame on you for making fun of Jacko. Some day you may have to wash the dishes yourself." Say, I just wish you could have seen Mugsie Smugsie when Susie got through talking to him. His fuzzy face flushed all red and he dug his paw down in the dirt bashful like and then he felt very much ashamed for having made fun of Jacko when his mamma was sick. "I--I didn't know all that," stammered Mugsie Smugsie. "I'd like to help you wash those dishes myself, Jacko, if you'll let me." So this shows that Mugsie wasn't bad all the way through, you see. Nobody is, I guess; there are good spots in everybody, only some folks have more spots than others. "Sure I'll let you help me wash the dishes," said Jacko. "It's lots of fun, and it makes your hands real clean. Come on up." So he let down the basket on a rope and pulled Mugsie Smugsie up to the house on top of the pole. "Can't I come up, too?" asked Susie. "Sure!" cried Jacko, and then he and Mugsie pulled up the rabbit girl. "Now we all three can help wash the dishes," said Susie. And, surely enough, those three animal children began to wash the dishes. But Jacko and Mugsie Smugsie splashed the sudsy water about so that Susie said: "Oh, you had better let me finish, boys, and you can set the house to rights and dust and sweep." Now, of course, girls can wash dishes better than can boys, I know that very well, and Susie had them all washed and dried while Jacko and Mugsie were sweeping and dusting the dining-room. And very nicely they did it, too. And then, all of a sudden, there was a noise out in the kitchen. Susie screamed and cried: "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! He'll get me! He'll get me!" "Run quick!" cried Jacko to Mugsie Smugsie. So they ran out, and there was the burglar fox getting ready to jump at Susie. Somehow or other the fox had managed to pull himself up the tree in the basket, the rope of which Jacko had forgotten to take in after Susie was raised up by it. "Now I'm going to have a good dinner!" cried the fox, smacking his lips. "No, you're not, either!" yelled Jacko, and then and there he caught up the big dishpan full of water and threw it at the fox--threw the water, not the dishpan, you understand. And that fox in an instant was as wet as if he'd fallen into a mill pond, and he was so scared and frightened and alarmed and astonished and ker-slostered that he slid down the rope so fast that he burned his tongue. Then the fox ran away, taking his tail with him, and that's how he didn't hurt Susie, and I think Jacko and Mugsie Smugsie were very brave to drive him away. And pretty soon all the housework was done and the children could go down and play, and in a little while Mrs. Kinkytail's headache was all better, and she got up. Mrs. Kinkytail was very thankful to Jacko when she found what he had done, and this teaches us that monkey boys are sometimes as good as girls about doing housework. Mr. Kinkytail, too, was proud of his little son, and he said he would take the whole family to the moving pictures as a treat. "Oh, that will be jolly!" cried Jacko, and Jumpo said the same thing. Then they all went to the show, and in the next story, if the--. Oh! there I go again! I forgot that I have in this book all the stories it will hold, so if I make any more I'll have to put them in another. And the next Bed Time book will be called "Curley and Floppy Twistytail," and the stories will be about some cute little pigs. Curley is the name of one and Floppy of the other. And they did the funniest things you ever heard about! So just please wait for that book, which will be ready for you before very long. I hope you will like it. And now I'll say good-bye for a time. THE END. Transcriber's Notes page 9 corrected age to ago in "not so many years ago" page 33 corrected wan't to wasn't in "I wasn't thinking of eating" page 96 full stop added after "asked Jumpo, curious like" page 110 comma added after "easily earn the money" page 110 ' moved from 'spose to s'pose in "How much do you s'pose an auto costs," page 125 question mark changed to full stop after "asked Jacko politely of the lady goat" page 143 corrected birl to bird in "that a savage hawk-bird had her nest" page 144 full stop added after "apple on a string" page 158 missing closing " added after "That's fine." page 172 changed comma to fullstop after "and we will go home" page 177 corrected anl to and in "bump into his eyes and blind him" page 185 poor changed to pour in "I'll pour mollases on him" Page 190 Added comma after you couldn't, in you couldn't, for there wasn't any left. page 197 changed Goodby to Goodbye "I'll see you again, Jumpo. Goodbye!" page 207 " inserted after "said Jacko" before "I wonder" page 210 corrected Muggsie to Mugsie in "call something back at Muggsie Smugsie" typographical inconsistencies retained 
43906	----	THE STORY OF THE TEASING MONKEY [Illustration] BY HELEN BANNERMAN The Story of The Teasing Monkey BY THE AUTHOR OF "LITTLE BLACK SAMBO" "LITTLE BLACK MINGO" ETC. NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PHILADELPHIA [Illustration] ONCE upon a time there was a very mischievous little monkey, who lived in a big banyan tree, and his name was Jacko. [Illustration] And in the jungle below there lived a huge, fierce old lion and lioness. [Illustration] Now Jacko was a very teasing monkey. He used to climb down the long trailing roots of the banyan tree, and pull the tails of all the other creatures, and then scamper up again, before they could catch him. And he was so bold, he even pulled the tails of the lion and lioness one day. [Illustration] This made them so angry that-- They went to a grim old bear they knew, and they arranged with him that he should come with them to the banyan tree, when Jacko was away. [Illustration] So he came, and standing on the lion's head, he gnawed the roots through till they were so thin they would not bear a jerk. [Illustration] And next time Jacko pulled the lion's tail he gave a great tug--the roots broke, and down fell Jacko, into the huge, fierce grim old lion's jaws!! [Illustration] "Come here, my dear!" roared the lion. The lioness came and looked at Jacko. "He is a very thin monkey," said she; "we had better put him in the larder for a week to fatten him, and then ask Mr. Bear to dinner." [Illustration] So they put him in the larder, which was just a little piece at the end of their cave, built up with big stones, and while the lion built it up, the lioness lay ready to spring on him if he tried to escape. It was very dark and very cold, and Jacko did not like it at all. [Illustration] They left a little window to feed him by, and every day they gave him as many bananas as he liked, because they knew monkeys ate bananas, and they could get them easily. [Illustration] Then the lioness wrote a leaf-letter to the bear, asking him to dinner, which he, of course, accepted with pleasure. [Illustration] But Jacko did not get fat, and the reason of that was that he soon tired of bananas, and only ate one every day. He gave all the others to the rats. The lion and lioness were rather worried because Jacko did not get fat, so one day they stole in to listen to him talking to the rats, and as it happened they were just talking about bananas. "I am tired of bananas," said Jacko. "I wish I could get a cocoa-nut." "It would make you very fat," said the rats. "Yes," said Jacko, "and I don't want to be fat for those old lions." "Ho, ho!" said the lions. "A cocoa-nut will make him fat; we'll get him one at once." [Illustration] But when they came to the tree they could not reach a single cocoa-nut! [Illustration] So the lion went back and told the little rats _very fiercely_ that he would tear down the stones, and eat them all up at once, if they did not fetch him down some cocoa-nuts at once. [Illustration] This terrified the little rats. They scampered up the tree, and gnawed off the cocoa-nuts as fast as they ever could. But as the cocoa-nuts fell on the heads of the lion and lioness, and hurt them very much, the little rats took care to stay up the tree till it was dark. [Illustration] As soon as their heads felt a little better, the lion and lioness took the cocoa-nuts. And carried them to Jacko. They had to make a very large hole to put them in, but they built it up carefully again. [Illustration] Jacko was very much delighted to get the cocoa-nuts, but he had hard work tearing off the hairy outside. However at last he got it all off. Then he smashed the cocoa-nuts with a stone, and drank the milk, and began eating the nut; and wasn't it good after a whole week of bananas! [Illustration] While he ate it, he amused himself making a nice warm coat for himself of the hairy husk of the cocoa-nuts, and he was so busy he did not notice how much he was eating. [Illustration] And when he put his warm coat on he just looked fearfully fat. [Illustration] And the lion and lioness peeping in, thought it was all Jacko, and they were delighted. "Isn't he fat and tender?" they said. "We'll eat him to-night, and not wait for Mr. Bear." And they went out for a walk, to get a good appetite. [Illustration] Poor Jacko! He did not eat any more cocoa-nut after he heard that. He pulled off his coat, and smoothed his hair down with his little paws, but still he looked fat. And he smeared himself all over with bananas to make the hair lie flat, but _still_ he looked fat. So he put on his warm coat again, and lay down, and cried himself to sleep. But you must know the bear was a very greedy old bear, and that very afternoon, while Jacko was asleep, he came to have a private peep at him. [Illustration] And when he saw him looking so lovely and fat, he just could not resist the temptation, and began pulling down the stones as fast as he could, intending to eat him all by himself. But he was an awkward, clumsy old bear, and all of a sudden-- [Illustration] With a rumble and a _rattle_ and a CLATTER, and a CRASH!!! the stones all came down on top of him, waking poor little Jacko, and scaring him nearly out of his wits. But he had the sense to scramble out as fast as he could. [Illustration] The lion and lioness were just coming back, and when they heard the noise they came tearing home like the wind, and met little Jacko just in the mouth of the cave. [Illustration] With a fearful roar the lion struck at him with his claws, but they only stuck in the-- [Illustration] cocoa-nut coat. Jacko wriggled out of it and ran on. [Illustration] With another fearful roar, the lioness seized him in her teeth. But Jacko was so round with eating cocoa-nut, and so slippery with banana, that he popped out from between her teeth, like an orange seed, and ran on. [Illustration] And the next minute he was safe, and scrambling up the cocoa-nut tree at a rate which shook down most of the cocoa-nuts on to the heads of the lion and lioness. [Illustration] So the lion had a sore head, and the lioness had a sore head, and the bear had a sore head, and they had nothing for dinner but BANANAS 
33421	----	THE SPEECH OF MONKEYS Heinemann's Scientific Handbooks. _Each Volume Crown 8vo, Uniformly Bound and Illustrated._ =MANUAL OF ASSAYING GOLD, SILVER, COPPER, AND LEAD ORES.= By WALTER LEE BROWN, B.Sc. Revised, Corrected, and considerably Enlarged, with a chapter on the Assaying of Fuel, &c. By A. B. GRIFFITHS, Ph.D., F.R.S. (Edin.), F.C.S. 7s. 6d. _Financial World._--"The most complete and practical manual on everything which concerns assaying of all which have come before us." =GEODESY.= By J. HOWARD GORE. 5s. _Science Gossip._--"It is the best we could recommend to all geodetic students. It is full and clear, thoroughly accurate, and up to date in all matters of earth-measurements." =THE PHYSICAL PROPERTIES OF GASES.= By ARTHUR L. KIMBALL. 5s. _Chemical News._--"The man of culture who wishes for a general and accurate acquaintance with the physical properties of gases, will find in Mr. Kimball's work just what he requires." =HEAT AS A FORM OF ENERGY.= BY R. H. THURSTON. 5s. _Journal of Microscopy and Natural Science._--"The author presents in popular language an outline of the growth of our modern philosophy of the form of energy known as heat." =A MANUAL OF BACTERIOLOGY.= By A. B. GRIFFITHS, Ph.D., F.R.S. (Edin.), F.C.S. [_In the Press._ LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN, 21 BEDFORD STREET, W.C. THE SPEECH OF MONKEYS BY R. L. GARNER LONDON WILLIAM HEINEMANN 1892 [_All rights reserved_] * * * * * _To_ _MY DEVOTED WIFE_ _Whose zeal for my success is the light which guides me along the highway of my labours, and to those earnest friends, Mr. Walter S. Logan, Judge Charles P. Daly, Mr. James Muhlenberg Bailey, Mr. Samuel S. McClure, Hon. O. B. Potter, Dr. Alexander Melville Bell, Hon. John Hay, Professor S. E. Tillman, Mrs. Henry Draper, Mr. J. V. V. Booream, Mr. G. Hilton Scribner, and Mr. B. Schlesinger, who have opened their purse as they opened their hearts, and afforded me that aid which made it possible for me to continue my researches. With them I shall gladly share the glory of all that my efforts may achieve, and to them, with profound and affectionate gratitude, this first contribution to Science on this subject is justly dedicated by_ _THE AUTHOR._ * * * * * PREFACE I desire here to express my gratitude to _The New Review_, _The North American Review_, _The Cosmopolitan_, _The Forum_, and many of the leading journals of America, for the use of their valuable and popular pages through which my work has been given to the public. To the press, English and American, I gladly pay my tribute of thanks for the liberal discussion, candid criticism, and kind consideration which they have bestowed upon my efforts to solve the great problem of speech. In contributing to Science this mite, I do not mean to intimate that my task has been completed, for I am aware that I have only begun to explore the field through which we may hope to pass beyond the confines of our own realm and invade the lower spheres of life. This volume is intended as a record of my work, and a voluntary report of my progress, to let the world know with what results my labours have been rewarded, and with the hope that it may be the means of inducing others to pursue like investigations. In prosecuting my studies I have had no precedents to guide me, no literature to consult, and no landmarks by which to steer my course. I have, therefore, been compelled to find my own means, suggest my own experiments, and solve my own problems. Not a line on this subject is to be found in all the literature of the world, and yet the results which I have obtained have far surpassed my highest hopes. Considering the difficulties under which I have been compelled to work, I have been rewarded with results for which I dared not hope, and this inspires me to believe that my success will meet my highest wishes when I am placed in touch with such subjects as I expect to find in the forests of Tropical Africa. Only a few of my experiments are recorded in this volume, but as they illustrate my methods and set forth the results, they will serve to show, in a measure, the scope of my work. In the latter part of this work will be found a definition of the word Speech as I have used it, and the deductions which I have made from my experiments. I have not ventured into any extreme theories, either to confirm or controvert the opinions of others, but simply commit to the world these initial facts, and the working hypotheses upon which I have proceeded to obtain them. In Chapter XXI. I have mentioned the particular characteristics which mark the sound of monkeys as speech, and distinguish them from mere automatic sounds. With all the gravity of sincere conviction I commit this volume to the friends of Science as the first contribution upon this subject. R. L. GARNER. NEW YORK, _June 1, 1892_. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. PAGE Early Impressions--First Observations of Monkeys--First Efforts to Learn their Speech--Barriers--The Phonograph Used--A Visit to Jokes--My Efforts to Speak to Him--The Sound of Alarm Inspires Terror 1 CHAPTER II. The Reconciliation--The Acquaintance of Jennie--The Salutation--The Words for Food and Drink--Little Banquo, Dago, McGinty, and others 14 CHAPTER III. Monkeys have favourite Colours--Can distinguish Numbers and Quantity--Music and Art very limited 24 CHAPTER IV. Pedro's Speech Recorded--Delivered to Puck through the Phonograph--Little Darwin learns a new Word 34 CHAPTER V. Five little Brown Cousins: Mickie, Nemo, Dodo, Nigger, and McGinty--Nemo apologises to Dodo 47 CHAPTER VI. Dago Talks about the Weather--Tells me of his Troubles--Dodo in the "Balcony Scene"--Her Portrait by a great Artist 59 CHAPTER VII. Interpretation of Words--Specific Words and Signs--The Negative Sign and Sounds--Affirmative Expressions--Possible Origin of Negative and Positive Signs 69 CHAPTER VIII. Meeting with Nellie--Nellie was my Guest--Her Speech and Manners--The little Blind Girl--One of Nellie's Friends--Her Sight and Hearing--Her Toys, and how she Played with Them 83 CHAPTER IX. Nellie's Affections--A little Flirtation--Some of my Personal Friends 97 CHAPTER X. The Capuchin Vocabulary--What I have Found--What I Foresee in it 105 CHAPTER XI. The Word for Food in the Rhesus Dialect--The Rhesus Sound of Alarm--The Dialect of the White-face--Dolly Varden, "Uncle Rhemus," and others 111 CHAPTER XII. Atelles or Spider Monkeys--The Common Macaque--Java Monkeys, and what they say--A Happy Family 121 CHAPTER XIII. The Extent of my Experiments--Apes and Baboons--Miscellaneous Records of Sound--The Vocal Index 131 CHAPTER XIV. Monkeys and the Mirror--Some of their Antics--Baby Macaque and her Papa--Some other Monkeys 138 CHAPTER XV. Man and Ape--Their Physical Relations--Their Mental Relations--Evolution was the Means--Who was the Progenitor of the Ape?--The Scale of Life 146 CHAPTER XVI. The Faculty of Thought--Emotion and Thought--Instinct and Reason--Monkeys Reason--Some Examples 156 CHAPTER XVII. Speech Defined--The True Nature of Speech--The Use of Speech--The Limitations of Speech 169 CHAPTER XVIII. The Motives of Speech--Expression--The Beginning of Human Speech--The Present Condition of Speech 177 CHAPTER XIX. Language embraces Speech--Speech, Words, Grammar, and Rhetoric 183 CHAPTER XX. Life and Consciousness--Consciousness and Emotion--Emotion and Thought--Thought and Expression--Expression and Speech--The Vocal Organs and Sound--Speech in City and Country--Music, Passions, and Taste--Life and Reason 190 CHAPTER XXI. Certain Marks which Characterise the Sounds of Monkeys as Speech--Sounds Accompanied by Gestures--Certain Acts follow certain Sounds--They acquire new Sounds--Their Speech addressed to certain Individuals--Deliberation and Premeditation--They remember and anticipate Results--Thought and Reason 200 CHAPTER XXII. The Phonograph as an Aid to Science--Vowels the Basis of Phonation--Consonants Developed from a Vowel Basis--Vowels are Compound--The Analysis of Vowels by the Phonograph--Current Theories of Sound--Augmentation of Sounds--Sound Waves and Sound Units--Consonants among the Lower Races 208 CHAPTER XXIII. The Human Voice--Human Bagpipe--Human Piccolo, Flute, and Fife--The Voice as a Whistle--Music and Noise--Dr. Bell and his "Visible Speech" 219 CHAPTER XXIV. Some Curious Facts in Vocal Growth--Children and Consonants--Single, Double, and Treble Consonants--Sounds of Birds--Fishes and their Language--Insects and their Language 224 CHAPTER XXV. Facts and Fancies of Speech--Language in the Vegetable Kingdom--Language in the Mineral Kingdom 237 CHAPTER XXVI. THE SPEECH AND REASON OF DOMESTIC ANIMALS. Dash and the Baby--Two Collies talk--Eunice understands her Mistress--Two Dogs and the Phonograph--A Canine Family--Cats and Dogs--Insects--Signs and Sounds 246 * * * * * THE SPEECH OF MONKEYS CHAPTER I. Early Impressions--First Observations of Monkeys--First Efforts to Learn their Speech--Barriers--The Phonograph Used--A Visit to Jokes--My Efforts to Speak to Him--The Sound of Alarm inspires Terror. From childhood, I have believed that all kinds of animals have some mode of speech by which they could talk among their own kind, and have often wondered why man had never tried to learn it. I often wondered how it occurred to man to whistle to a horse or dog instead of using some sound more like their own; and even yet I am at a loss to know how such a sound has ever become a fixed means of calling these animals. I was not alone in my belief that all animals had some way to make known to others some certain things; but to my mind the means had never been well defined. [Sidenote: FIRST OBSERVATIONS OF MONKEYS] About eight years ago, in the Cincinnati Zoological Garden, I was deeply impressed by the conduct of a number of monkeys occupying a cage with a huge, savage mandril, which they seemed very much to fear and dislike. By means of a wall, the cage was divided into two compartments, through which was a small doorway, just large enough to allow the occupants of the cage to pass from one room to the other. The inner compartment of the cage was used for their winter quarters and sleeping apartments; the outer, consisting simply of a well-constructed iron cage, was intended for exercise and summer occupancy. Every movement of this mandril seemed to be closely watched by the monkeys that were in a position to see him, and instantly reported to the others in the adjoining compartment. I watched them for hours, and felt assured that they had a form of speech by means of which they communicated with each other. During the time I remained, I discovered that a certain sound would invariably cause them to act in a certain way, and, in the course of my visit, I discovered that I could myself tell, by the sounds the monkeys would make, just what the mandril was doing--that is, I could tell whether he was asleep or whether he was moving about in his cage. Having interpreted one or two of these sounds, I felt inspired with the belief that I could learn them, and felt that the "key to the secret chamber" was within my grasp. I regarded the task of learning the speech of a monkey as very much the same as learning that of some strange race of mankind, more difficult in the degree of its inferiority, but less in volume. Year by year, as new ideas were revealed to me, new barriers arose, and I began to realise how great a task was mine. One difficulty was to utter the sounds I heard, another was to recall them, and yet another to translate them. But impelled by an inordinate hope and not discouraged by poor success, I continued my studies, as best I could, in the Gardens of New York, Philadelphia, Cincinnati and Chicago, and with such specimens as I could find from time to time with travelling shows, hand-organs, aboard some ship, or kept as a family pet. I must acknowledge my debt of gratitude to all these little creatures who have aided me in the study of their native tongue. [Sidenote: ACTING AS INTERPRETER] Having contended for some years with the difficulties mentioned, a new idea dawned upon me, and, after maturely considering it, I felt assured of ultimate success. I went to Washington, and proposed the novel experiment of acting as interpreter between two monkeys. Of course this first evoked from the great fathers of science a smile of incredulity; but when I explained the means by which I expected to accomplish this, a shadow of seriousness came over the faces of those dignitaries to whom I first proposed the novel feat. I procured a phonograph upon which to record the sounds of the monkeys. I separated two monkeys which had occupied the same cage together for some time, and placed them in separate rooms of the building where they could not see or hear each other. I then arranged the phonograph near the cage of the female, and by various means induced her to utter a few sounds, which were recorded on the cylinder of the phonograph. The machine was then placed near the cage containing the male, and the record repeated to him and his conduct closely studied. He gave evident signs of recognising the sounds, and at once began a search for the mysterious monkey doing the talking. His perplexity at this strange affair cannot well be described. The familiar voice of his mate would induce him to approach, but that squeaking, chattering horn was a feature which he could not comprehend. He traced the sounds, however, to the horn from which they came, and, failing to find his mate, thrust his arm into the horn quite up to his shoulder, then withdrew it, and peeped into it again and again. The expressions of his face were indeed a study. I then secured a few sounds of his voice and delivered them to the female, who showed some signs of interest, but the record was very imperfect and her manner seemed quite indifferent. In this experiment, for the first time in the history of language, was the Simian speech reduced to record; and while the results were not fully up to my hopes, they served to inspire me to further efforts to find the fountain-head from which flows out the great river of human speech. Having satisfied myself that each one recognised the sound made by the other when delivered through the phonograph, I felt rewarded for my labour and assured of the possibility of learning the language of monkeys. The faith of others was strengthened also, and while this experiment was very crude and imperfect, it served to convince me that my opinions were correct as to the speech of these animals. [Sidenote: RECORDS OF SOUNDS] In this case I noticed the defects which occurred in my work and provided against them, as well as I could, for the future. Soon after this I went to Chicago and Cincinnati, where I made a number of records of the sounds of a great number of monkeys, and among others I secured a splendid record of the two chimpanzees contained in the Cincinnati collection, which I brought home with me for study. The records that I made of various specimens of the Simian race I repeated to myself over and over, until I became familiar with them, and learned to imitate a few of them, mostly by the use of mechanical devices. After having accomplished this I returned to Chicago, and went at once to visit a small Capuchin monkey whose record had been my chief study. Standing near his cage, I imitated a sound which I had translated "milk," but from many tests I concluded it meant "food," which opinion has been somewhat modified by many later experiments which led me to believe that he uses it in a still wider sense. It is difficult to find any formula of human speech equivalent to it. While the Capuchin uses it relating to food and sometimes to drink, I was unable to detect any difference in the sounds. He also seemed to connect the same sound to every kindly office done him, and to use it as a kind of "Shibboleth." More recently, however, I have detected in the sound slight changes of inflection under different conditions, until I am now led to believe that the meaning of the word depends somewhat, if not wholly, on its modulation. The phonetic effect is rich and rather flute-like, and the word resembles somewhat the word "who." Its dominant is a pure vocal "u," sounded like "oo" in "too," which has a faint initial "wh," both elements of which are sounded, and the word ends with a vanishing "w." The literal formula by which I would represent it is "wh-oo-w." The word which I have translated "drink" begins with a faint guttural "ch," and glides through a sound resembling the French diphthong "eu," and ends with a slight "y" sound as in "ye." So far I have found no trace of the English vowels "a," "i," or "o," unless it be in the sound emitted under stress of great alarm or in case of assault, in which I find a close resemblance to the vowel "i," short as in "it." [Sidenote: FIELD OF OPERATIONS EXTENDED] After having acquired a sound or two, I extended my field of operations and began to try my skill as a Simian linguist on every specimen with which I came in contact. In Charleston, a gentleman owns a fine specimen of the brown Cebus whose name is Jokes. He is naturally shy of strangers, but on my first visit to him I addressed him in his native tongue, and he really seemed to regard me very kindly; he would eat from my hand and allow me to caress him through the bars of his cage. He eyed me with evident curiosity, but invariably responded to the word which I uttered in his own language. On my third visit to him I determined to try the effect of the peculiar sound of "alarm" or "assault" which I had learned from one of this species; but I cannot very well represent it in letters. While he was eating from my hand, I gave this peculiar piercing note, and he instantly sprang to a perch in the top of his cage, thence in and out of his sleeping apartment with great speed, and almost wild with fear. [Sidenote: HARSH MEANS RESORTED TO] As I repeated the sound his fears seemed to increase, until from a mere sense of compassion I desisted. No amount of coaxing would induce him to return to me or to accept any offer of peace which I could make. I retired to a distance of about twenty feet from his cage, and his master induced him to descend from the perch, which he did, with the greatest reluctance and suspicion. I gave the sound again from where I stood, and it produced almost the same results as before. The monkey gave out a singular sound in response to my efforts to appease him, but refused to become reconciled. After the lapse of eight or ten days, I had not been able to reinstate myself in his good graces, or to induce him to accept anything whatever from me. At this juncture I resorted to harsher means of bringing him to terms, and began to threaten him with a rod. At first he resented this, but soon yielded and came down merely from fear. He would place the side of his head on the floor, put out his tongue, and utter a very plaintive sound having a slight interrogative inflection. At first this act quite defied interpretation; but during the same period I was visiting a little monkey called Jack. For strangers, we were quite good friends, and Jack allowed me many liberties which the family assured me he had uniformly refused to others. On one of my visits he displayed his temper, and made an attack upon me because I refused to let go of a saucer from which I was feeding him with some milk. I jerked him up by the chain and slapped him sharply, whereupon he instantly laid the side of his head on the floor, put out his tongue, and made just such a sound as Jokes had made a number of times before. It occurred to me that it was a sign of surrender, and many subsequent tests have confirmed this opinion. Mrs. M. French Sheldon, in her journey through East Africa, shot a small monkey in a forest near Lake Charla. She described to me how the little fellow stood high up in a tree and chattered to her in his sharp, musical voice, until at the crack of her gun he fell mortally wounded. When he was laid dying at her feet, he turned his bright little eyes pleadingly upon her as if to ask for pity. Touched by his appeal, she took the little creature in her arms to try to soothe him. Again and again he would touch his tongue to her hand as if kissing it, and seemed to wish in the hour of death to be caressed, even by the hand that slew him, and which had taken from him without reward that life which could be of no value except to spend in the wild forest where his kindred monkeys live. [Sidenote: MODE OF EXPRESSING SUBMISSION] This peculiar mode of expressing submission seems to be very widely used, and from her description of the actions of that monkey, his conduct must have been identical with that of the Cebus; and to my mind may justly be interpreted to mean, "Pity me, I will not harm you." I have recently learned that a Scotch naturalist, commenting on my description of this act and its meaning, quite agrees with me, and states that he has observed the same thing in other species of monkeys. CHAPTER II. The Reconciliation--The Acquaintance of Jennie--The Salutation--The Words for Food and Drink--Little Banquo, Dago, McGinty, and others. [Sidenote: ACQUAINTANCE OF JENNIE] During a period of many weeks I visited Jokes almost daily, but after the lapse of more than two months I had not won him back nor quieted his suspicions against me. On my approach, he would manifest great fear and go through the act of humiliation described above. I observed that he entertained an intense hatred for a negro boy on the place, who teased and vexed him on all occasions. I had the boy come near the cage, and Jokes fairly raved with anger. I took a stick and pretended to beat the boy, and this delighted Jokes very greatly. I held the boy near enough to the cage to allow the monkey to scratch and pull his clothes, and this would fill his little Simian soul with joy. I would then release the boy, and to the evident pleasure of Jokes I would drive him away by throwing wads of paper at him. I repeated this a number of times, and by such means we again became the best of friends. After each encounter with the boy, he would come up to the bars, touch my hand with his tongue, chatter and play with my fingers, and show every sign of confidence and friendship. He always warned me of the approach of any one, and his conduct towards them was largely governed by my own. He never failed, after this, to salute me with the sound described in the first chapter. About the same time I paid a few visits to another little monkey of the same species, named "Jennie." Her master had warned me in advance that she was not well disposed towards strangers. At my request, he had her chained in a small side yard which he forbade any of the family entering. When I approached the little lady for the first time, I gave her the usual salutation, which she responded to, and seemed to understand. I unceremoniously sat down by her side and fed her from my hands. She eyed me with evident interest and curiosity, while I studied her every act and expression. During the process of this mutual investigation, a negro girl who lived with the family, overcome by curiosity, stealthily came into the yard and came up within a few feet of us. I determined to sacrifice this girl upon the altar of science, so I arose and placed her between the monkey and myself, and vigorously sounded the alarm or menace. "Jennie" flew into a fury, while I continued to sound the alarm and at the same time pretended to attack the girl with a club and some paper wads, thus causing the monkey to believe that the girl had uttered the alarm and made the assault. I then drove the girl from the yard with a great show of violence, and for days afterwards she could not feed or approach the little Simian. This confirmed my opinion of the meaning of the sound, which can be fairly imitated by placing the back of the hand gently on the mouth and kissing it with great force, prolonging the sound for some seconds. This imitation, however, is indifferent, and its quality is especially noticeable when analysed on the phonograph. The pitch corresponds to the highest "F" sharp on the piano, while the word "food" is four octaves lower and the word "drink" three. [Sidenote: THE GARDEN IN CINCINNATI] On one occasion I visited the Garden in Cincinnati, and found in a cage a small Capuchin, to whom I gave the name of Banquo. It was near night and the visitors had left the house, and the little monkey, worried out by the day's annoyance from visitors, sat quietly in the back of his cage as though he was glad another day was done. I approached the cage and uttered the sound which I have described and translated "drink." My first effort caught his attention and caused him to turn and look at me. He then arose and answered me with the same word, and came at once to the front of the cage. He looked at me as if in doubt, and I repeated the word. He responded with the same and turned to a small pan in his cage, which he took up and placed near the door through which the keeper usually passed his food, returned to me, and uttered the word again. I asked the keeper for some milk, which he did not have, but brought me some water instead. The efforts of my little Simian friend to secure the glass were very earnest, and his pleading manner and tone assured me of his extreme thirst. I allowed him to dip his hand into the glass, and he would then lick the water from his fingers and reach again. I kept the glass out of reach of his hand, and he would repeat the sound earnestly and look at me beseechingly, as if to say, "Please give me some more." I was thus convinced that the word which I had translated "milk" must also mean "water," and from this and other tests I at last determined that it meant "drink" in its broad sense, and possibly "thirst." It evidently expressed his desire for something with which to allay his thirst. The sound is very difficult to imitate, and quite impossible to write exactly. [Sidenote: IMITATING SOUNDS] On one of my visits to the Chicago Garden, I stood with my side to a cage containing a small Capuchin and gave the sound which I had translated "milk." It caused him to turn and look at me, and on repeating the sound a few times, he answered me very distinctly with the same, picking up the pan from which he usually drank; and as I repeated the word, he brought the pan to the front of the cage, set it down, and came up to the bars and uttered the word distinctly. I had not shown him any milk or any kind of food, but the man in charge, at my request, brought me some milk, which I gave to him. He drank it with great delight, then looked at me and held up his pan, repeating the sound. I am quite sure that he used the same sound each time that he wanted milk. During this same visit, I tried many experiments with the word which I am now convinced means "food" or "hunger." And I was led to the belief that he used the same word for apple, carrot, bread and banana; but a few later experiments have led me to modify this view in a measure, since the phonograph shows me slight variations of the sound, and I now think it probable that these faint inflections may possibly indicate a difference in the kinds of food he has in mind. However, they usually recognise this sound, even when poorly imitated. I am impressed with the firm belief that in this word I have found the clue to the great secret of speech; and while I have taken only one short step in the direction of its solution, I have pointed out the way which leads to it. [Sidenote: BROWN CAPUCHINS] In the fall of 1891, I visited New York for the purpose of experimenting with the monkeys in Central Park. Early one morning I repaired to the monkey-house, and for the first time approached a cage containing five brown Capuchins, whom I saluted with the word which I have translated "food," and which seems to be an "open-sesame" to the hearts of all monkeys of this species. On delivering this word, one of them responded promptly and came to the front of the cage. I repeated it two or three times and the remaining four came to the front, and as I thrust my fingers through the bars of the cage, they took hold of them and began playing with great familiarity and apparent pleasure. They seemed to recognise the sound, and to realise that it had been delivered to them by myself. Whether they regarded me as a great ape, monkey, or some other kind of animal speaking their tongue, I do not know. But they evidently understood the sound, though up to this time I had shown them no food or water. A little later I secured some apples and carrots, and gave them in small bits in response to their continual requests for food, and this further confirmed my belief that I had translated the word correctly. This was gratifying to me in view of the fact that I was accompanied by two gentlemen who had been permitted to witness the experiment, and it was evident to them that the monkeys understood the sound. I placed the phonograph in order and made a record of the sound, which I preserved for study. After an absence of some days, I returned to the Park and went to the monkey-house. They recognised me as I entered the door, notwithstanding there were many visitors present. They began begging me to come to their cage, which I did, and gave them my hand to play with. One of them in particular, whose name is "McGinty," showed every sign of pleasure at my visit; he would play with my fingers, hug them, and caress them in the most affectionate manner. Another occupant of the same cage had shown a disposition to become friendly with me, and on this occasion came bravely to the bars of the cage and showed a desire to share the pleasure of my visit with his little Simian brother. But this was denied him on any terms by "McGinty," who pounced upon him and drove him away, as he also did the other monkeys in the cage in order to monopolise my entire society himself. He refused to allow any other inmate of the cage to receive my caresses or any part of the food that I had brought them. I spent the past winter in Washington and New York, much of the time in company with these little creatures, and have made many novel and curious experiments, some of which have resulted in surprises to myself. [Sidenote: MONKEYS CAN COUNT] Among the facts which I have obtained, I may state that certain monkeys can count three; that they discern values by quantity and by number; that they have favourite colours, and are pleased with some musical sounds. And I shall explain how I arrived at some of these conclusions, in order that I may not be supposed to have merely guessed at them. CHAPTER III. Monkeys have favourite Colours--Can distinguish Numbers and Quantity--Music and Art very limited. [Sidenote: MONKEYS HAVE FAVOURITE COLOURS] In order to ascertain whether monkeys have any choice of colours or not, I selected some bright candies, balls, marbles, bits of ribbon, &c. I took a piece of pasteboard, and on it placed a few bright-coloured bits of candy, which I offered to a monkey and watched to see whether he would select a certain colour or not. In this experiment I generally used two colours at a time, and changed their places from time to time in order to determine whether he selected the colour by design or accident. After having determined which of two colours he preferred, I substituted a third colour for the one which he cared least for, and continued thus until I exhausted the list of bright colours. By changing the arrangement of the objects a great number of times, it could be ascertained with comparative certainty whether the colour was his preference or not. I find that all monkeys do not select the same colour, nor does the same monkey invariably select the same colour at different times; but I think, as a rule, that bright green is a favourite colour with the Capuchin, and their second choice is white. In a few cases, white seemed to be their preference. I have sometimes used paper wads of various colours, or bits of candy of the same flavour rolled in various coloured papers. They seemed to choose the same colours in selecting their toys. I have sometimes used artificial flowers, and find, as a rule, that they will select a flower having many green leaves about it. It may be that they associate this colour with some green food which they are fond of, and consequently that they are influenced by this in selecting other things. I kept a cup for a monkey to drink milk from, on the sides of which were some brilliant flowers and green leaves, and she would frequently quit drinking the milk to play with the flowers on the cup, and seemed never able to understand why she could not get hold of them. In one test I had a board about two feet long, and laid a few pieces of white and pink candies in four places on it. The monkey took the white from each pile before touching the pink, except in one instance it took the pink piece from one pile. I repeated this test many times. In another test I took a white paper ball in one hand and a pink one in the other, and held out my hands to the monkey, who selected the white one nearly every time, although I changed hands with the balls from time to time. These experiments were mostly confined to the Cebus monkeys, but a few of them were made with Macaques. They seem to be attracted generally by all brilliant colours, but when reduced to a choice between two, such seems to be their tastes. [Sidenote: CAN DISTINGUISH NUMBERS] In my efforts to ascertain their mathematical skill, I would take in one hand a little platter containing one nut, or one small bit of something to eat, such as a piece of apple or carrot cut into a small cube. In the other hand I held a small platter, with two or three such articles of the same size and colour, and holding them just out of reach of the monkey and changing them from hand to hand, I observed that the monkey would try to reach the one containing the greater number. He readily discerned which platter contained one and which contained two or three pieces. I was long in doubt whether he distinguished by number or by quantity, and my belief was that it was by quantity only. I first determined that he could tell singular from plural, by making the one piece larger and sometimes of a different shape, and from his choice of these I quite satisfied my own mind that he could distinguish by number. [Sidenote: THE TEST WITH MARBLES] I next set out to find how far in numerals his acquirements reached, and after a great number of indecisive trials I fell upon this simple plan: I took a little square wooden box and made a hole in one side just large enough for the monkey to withdraw his hand with a marble in it. I took three marbles of the same size and colour, and gave them to the monkey to play with. After a time I put the marbles in a box and allowed him to take them out, which he could do by taking out only one at a time. I repeated this several times, so as to impress his mind with the number of marbles in the box. I then concealed one of the marbles and returned two to the box. On taking them out, he evidently missed the absent one, felt in the box, arose, and looked around where he had been sitting. Then he would put his hand into the box again and look at me; but failing to find it, he became reconciled, and began to play with the two. When he had become content with the two, I abstracted one of them, and when he failed to find it he began to search for it, and seemed quite unwilling to proceed without it. He would put the one back into the box and take it out again, as if in hope that it might find the other. I helped him to look for the missing marbles, and, of course, soon found them. When he learned that I could find the lost marbles, he would appeal to me as soon as he missed them, and in several instances he would take his little black fingers and open my lips to see if I had concealed them in my mouth, the place where all monkeys conceal what they wish to keep in safety from other monkeys, who never venture to put their fingers into one another's mouth, and when any article is once lodged in a monkey's mouth it is safe from the reach of all the tribe. I repeated this until I felt quite sure of the ability of my subject to count three, and I then increased the number of marbles to four. When I would abstract one of them, sometimes he seemed to miss it, or at least to be in doubt, but would soon proceed with his play and not worry himself about it; yet he rarely failed to show that he was aware that something was wrong. Whether he missed one from four, or only acted on general principles, I do not know; but that he missed one from three was quite evident. I may here add that there is a great difference in different specimens, and their tastes vary like those of human beings. The same idea is much clearer to some monkeys than it is to others, and a choice of colours much more definite; but I think that all of them assign to different numbers a difference of value. Some are talkative and others taciturn. I think I may state with safety that the Cebus is the most intelligent and talkative of all the monkeys I have known; that the Old World monkeys, as a group, are more taciturn and less intelligent than the New World monkeys, but I do not mean to include the anthropoid apes in this remark. [Sidenote: MUSICAL RECORDS ON PHONOGRAPH] As a test of their taste for music or musical sounds, I took three little bells, which I suspended by three strings, one end of which was tied to a button. The bells were all alike, except that from two of them I had removed the clappers. I dropped the bells through the meshes of the cage about a foot apart, and allowed the monkey to play with them. I soon discovered that he was attracted by the one which contained the clapper. He played with it, and soon became quite absorbed in it. I attracted his attention to another part of the cage with some food, and while he was thus diverted I changed the position of the bells by withdrawing and dropping them through other meshes. On his return he would go to the place he had left, and, of course, get a bell with no clapper in it. He would drop this and take another, until he found the one with the clapper, which showed clearly that the sound was a part of the attraction. I have repeated to monkeys many musical records on the phonograph, but frequently they show no sign of concern, while at other times they display some interest. It may be, however, that music, as we understand it, is somewhat too high for them. Musical sounds seem to attract and afford them pleasure, but they do not appreciate melody or rhythm. As monkeys readily discern the larger of two pieces of food from the smaller, and by the aid of concrete things can count a limited number, I feel justified in saying that they have the first principles of mathematics as dealing with numbers and quantity in a concrete form. Their ability to distinguish colours and their selection thereof, would indicate that they possess the first rudiment of art as dealing with colour. And the fact that they are attracted in a slight degree by musical sounds shows that they possess the germ from which music itself is born. I must not be understood to claim that they possess anything more than the mere germ from which such faculties might have been evolved. I do not think that they have any names for numbers, colours or quantities, nor do I think that they possess an abstract idea of these things, except in the feeblest degree; but as the concrete must have preceded the abstract idea in the development of human reason, it impresses me that these creatures are now in a condition such as man has once passed through in the course of his evolution; and it is not difficult to understand how such feeble faculties may develop into the very highest degree of strength and usefulness by constant use and culture. [Sidenote: RUDIMENTS OF FACULTIES] We find in them the rudiments from which all the faculties possessed by man could easily develop, including thought, reason, speech, and the moral and social traits of man. In brief, they appear to have at least the raw material out of which is made the most exalted attributes of man, and I shall not contest with them the right of such possession. CHAPTER IV. Pedro's Speech Recorded--Delivered to Puck through the Phonograph--Little Darwin learns a new Word. [Sidenote: PEDRO THE CAPUCHIN] In the Washington collection there is a little Capuchin by the name of Pedro. When I first visited this bright little monk he occupied a cage in common with several other monkeys of different kinds. All of them seemed to impose upon little Pedro, and a young spider monkey in the cage found special delight in catching him by the tail and dragging him around the floor of the cage. I interfered on behalf of Pedro, and drove the spider monkey away. On account of this, Pedro soon began to look upon me as his benefactor, and when he would see me he would scream and beg for me to come to him. I induced the keeper to place him in a small cage to himself, and this he seemed to appreciate very much. When I would go to record his sounds on the phonograph, I held him in one hand, while he would take the tube in his tiny black hands, hold it close up to his mouth, and talk into it just like a good little boy who knew what to do and how to do it. He would sometimes laugh and always chatter to me as long as he could see me. He would sit on my hand and kiss my cheeks, put his mouth up to my ear and chatter just as though he knew what my ears were for. He was quite fond of the head-keeper and also of the director, but he entertained a great dislike for one of the assistant-keepers, and he has very often told me some very bad things about that man, but I could not understand them. I shall long remember how this dear little monk would cuddle up under my chin, and try so hard to make me understand some sad story which seemed to be the burden of his life. He readily understood the sounds of his own speech which I repeated to him, and I have made some of the best records of his voice that I have ever succeeded in making of any monkey, some of which I have preserved up to this time. They present a wide range of sounds, and I have studied them with special care and pleasure because I knew that they were addressed to me in person; and being aware that the little creature was uttering these sounds to me with the hope that I would understand them, I was more anxious to learn just what he really said to me in this record than if it had contained only some casual remark not addressed to me. This little Simian was born in the Amazon Valley in Brazil, and was named for the late Emperor. [Sidenote: PUCK AND THE PHONOGRAPH] A short time ago I borrowed from a dealer in Washington a little Capuchin called Puck, and had him sent to my apartments, where I kept a phonograph. I placed the cage in front of the machine upon which I had adjusted the horn, and had placed the record of my little friend Pedro. I concealed myself in an adjoining room, where I could watch the conduct of my subject through a small hole in the door. I had a string attached to the lever of the machine and drawn taut through another hole in the door, so that I could start the machine at any desired moment, and at the same time avoid attracting the attention of the monkey, either by my presence or by allowing him to see anything move. After a time, when everything was quiet, I set the machine in motion and treated him to a phonographic recital by little Pedro. This speech was distinctly delivered through the horn to Puck, from whose actions it was evident that he recognised it as the voice of one of his tribe. He looked at the horn in surprise and made a sound or two, glanced around the room and again uttered a couple of sounds as he retired from the horn, apparently somewhat afraid. Again the horn delivered some exclamations in a pure Capuchin dialect, which Puck seemed to regard as sounds of some importance. He cautiously advanced and made a feeble response, but a quick, sharp sound from the horn seemed to startle him, and failing to find any trace of a monkey, except the sound of a voice, he looked at the horn with evident suspicion, and scarcely ventured to answer any sound it made. When I had delivered to him the contents of the record I entered the room again, and this seemed to afford him some relief. [Sidenote: PUCK'S VOICE AND ACTIONS] A little later I adjusted my apparatus for another trial, and this time I hung a small mirror just above the mouth of the horn. Then retiring again from the room I left him to examine his new surroundings, and he soon discovered the new monkey in the glass and began to caress and chatter to it. After a while I started the phonograph again by means of the string, and when the horn began to deliver its Simian oration it appeared to disconcert and perplex Puck. He would look at the image in the glass, then he would look into the horn; he would retire with a feeble grunt and a kind of inquisitive grin, showing his little white teeth, and acting as though in doubt whether to regard the affair as a joke, or to treat it as a grim and scientific fact. His voice and actions were exactly like those of a child, declaring in words that he was not afraid, but betraying fear in every act, and finally blending his feelings into a genuine cry. Puck did not cry, but the evidence of fear made the grin on his face rather ghostly. Again he would approach the mirror, then listen to the sounds which came from the horn, and it appeared from his conduct that there was a conflict somewhere. It was evident that he did not believe that the monkey which he saw in the glass was making the sounds which came from the horn. He repeatedly put his mouth to the glass, and caressed the image which he saw there, and at the same time showed a grave suspicion and some concern about the one which he heard in the horn, and tried to keep away from it as much as possible. His conduct in this case was a source of surprise to me, as the sounds contained in the record which I had repeated to him were all uttered in a mood of anxious, earnest entreaty, which to me seemed to contain no sound of anger, warning, or alarm, but which, on the contrary, I had interpreted as a kind of love speech, full of music and tenderness. I had not learned the exact meaning of any one of the sounds contained in this cylinder, but had ascribed in a collective and general way such a meaning to this speech. But from Puck's conduct I was led to believe that it was a general complaint of some kind against those monkeys in that other cage who had made life a burden to little Pedro. One thing was clear to my mind, and that is that Puck interpreted the actions of the monkey which he saw in the glass to mean one thing, and the sounds which he heard from the horn to mean quite another. [Sidenote: FORM OF SPEECH USED BY MONKEYS] I do not think that their language is capable of shaping sentences into narrative or giving any detail in a complaint, for I have never seen anything yet among them which would justify one in ascribing to them so high a type of speech; but in terms of general grievance it may have conveyed to Puck the idea of a monkey in distress, and hence his desire to avoid it; while the image in the glass presented to him a picture of his own mood, and he therefore had no cause to shun it. I do think, however, that the present form of speech used by monkeys is developed far above a mere series of grunts and groans, and that some species among them have a much more copious and expressive form of speech than others. From many experiments with the phonograph, I am prepared to say with certainty that some have much higher phonetic types than others. I have traced some slight inflections which I think beyond a doubt modify the values of their sounds. I find that some monkeys do not make some of these inflections at all, although the phonation of a species is generally uniform in other respects. In some cases it seems to me that the inflections differ slightly in the same species, but long and constant association seems to unify these dialects in some degree, very much the same as like causes blend and unify the dialects of human speech. I have found one instance in which a Capuchin had acquired two sounds which strictly belonged to the tongue of the white-faced Cebus. I was surprised when I heard him utter the sounds, and thought at first that they were common to the speech of both varieties; but on inquiry I found that he had been confined in a cage with the white-face for nearly four years, and hence my belief that he acquired them during that time. The most remarkable case which has come under my observation is one in which a young white-face has acquired the sound which means food in the Capuchin tongue. This event occurred under my own eyes. I regard this matter as so noteworthy and attended by such conditions as to show that the monkey had a motive in learning the sound, that I shall relate the case in detail. [Sidenote: THE WHITE-FACED CEBUS] In the room where the monkeys were kept by a dealer in Washington, there was a cage which contained a young white-faced Cebus of rather more than average intelligence. He was a quiet, sedate, and thoughtful little monk, whose grey hair and beard gave him quite a venerable aspect, and for this reason I called him Darwin. From some cause unknown to me he was afraid of me, and I showed him but little attention. On the same shelf and in an adjacent cage lived the little Capuchin, Puck. The cages were only separated by an open wire partition, through which they could easily see and hear each other. For some weeks I visited Puck almost daily, and in response to his sound for food I always supplied him with some nuts, banana, or other food. I never gave him any of these things to eat unless he would ask me for them in his own speech. On one of my visits my attention was attracted by little Darwin, who was uttering a strange sound which I had never before heard one of his species utter. I did not recognise the sound at first, but very soon discovered that it was intended to imitate the sound of the Capuchin, in response to which I always gave Puck some nice morsel of food. Darwin had undoubtedly observed that this sound made by Puck was always rewarded with something good to eat, and his evident motive was to secure a like reward. After this I always gave him some food in acknowledgment of his efforts, and I observed from day to day that he improved in making this sound, until at last it could scarcely be detected from the sound made by Puck. This was accomplished within a period of less than six weeks from my first visit. In this case, at least, I have seen one step taken by a monkey in learning the tongue of another. This was most interesting to me in view of the fact that I had long believed, and had announced as my belief, that no monkey ever acquired the sounds made by another species, or, indeed, ever tried to do so. I admit, however, that this one instance alone is sufficient to cause me to recede from a conclusion thus rendered untenable, and the short time in which this one feat was accomplished would indicate that the difficulty was not so great as I had regarded it. [Sidenote: SPEECH USUALLY LIMITED] I still regard it as a rule, however, that monkeys do not learn each other's speech, but the rule is not without exceptions. I have observed, and called attention to the fact, that when two monkeys of different species are caged together, that each one will learn to understand the speech of the other, but does not try to speak it as a rule. When he replies at all, it is always in his own vernacular. I wish to impress the fact, that monkeys do not generally carry on a connected conversation. Their speech is usually limited to a single sound or remark, which is replied to in the same manner; and to suppose that their conversations are elaborate or of a highly social character, is to go beyond the bounds of reason. This is the respect in which the masses fail to understand the real nature of the speech of monkeys or other animals. CHAPTER V. Five little Brown Cousins: Mickie, Nemo, Dodo, Nigger, and McGinty--Nemo apologises to Dodo. During the past winter there lived in Central Park a bright, fine, little monkey by the name of Mickie. He did not belong to the Park, but was merely kept as a guest of the city during the absence of his master in Europe. Mickie is a well-built, robust, good-natured monkey of the Capuchin variety. He does not talk much except when he wants food or drink, but he and I are the best of friends, and I frequently go into his cage to have a romp with him and his four little cousins. When I first began to visit the Park in the fall of 1891, Mickie showed a disposition to cultivate my acquaintance, and as it ripened into a friendship day by day, we found great pleasure in each other's society. As the monkey-house was open to the public at nine o'clock in the morning, I had to make my calls at sunrise or thereabouts, in order to avoid the visitors who daily throng this building. [Sidenote: NEMO AND MICKIE] In this cage was kept another little boarder of the same species, which belonged to Mr. G. Hilton Scribner, of Yonkers. The keeper did not know the name or anything of the past history of this little stranger, and for want of some identity and a name I called him Nemo. He was a timid, taciturn little fellow, quite intelligent, and possessed of an amount of diplomacy equal to that of some human beings. He was the smallest monkey in the cage, on which account he was somewhat shy of the others. He was thoughtful, peaceable, but full of "guile." He sought on all occasions to keep on the best terms with Mickie, to whom he would toady like a sycophant. He would put his little arms about Mickie's neck and hang on to him in the most affectionate manner. He would follow him like a shadow, and stay by him like a last hope. If anything ever aroused the temper of Mickie it was sure to make Nemo mad too; if Mickie was diverted and would laugh, Nemo would laugh also if he was suffering with a toothache. He was as completely under the control of Mickie as the curl in Mickie's tail. When I first began to visit them Nemo would see Mickie bite my fingers while we were playing, and he supposed it was done in anger. Nemo never lost a chance to bite my fingers, which he would always do with all his might, but his little teeth were not strong enough to hurt me very much. He would only do this after seeing Mickie bite me, and he did not evince any anger in the act, but appeared to do so merely as a duty. He would sneak up to my hands and bite me unawares; then he would run to Mickie and put his arm about his neck just as you have seen some boys do when trying to curry favour with a larger boy. On one occasion while in the cage with them he slipped up to me and bit my finger, for which I kindly boxed his little ears. I would then give Mickie my finger and allow him to bite it, after doing which I slapped him gently and then give it to him again. I would then allow Nemo to bite my finger, and if he bit it too hard I would slap him again, and in this manner soon taught him to understand that Mickie only bit me in fun, and he evidently learned that this was a fact. He did not appear, however, to catch the point clearly or see any reason therefor, but on all occasions thereafter he would take my finger in his mouth and hold it in his teeth, which were scarcely closed upon it. This he would do for a minute at a time without having the least apparent motive except that he had seen Mickie do so. [Sidenote: MICKIE'S ATTACHMENT] Often while holding my finger in this manner, with a look of seriousness worthy of a supreme judge, he would roll his little eyes at me in the most inquiring manner, as if to say "how is that"? When he once realised that Mickie was so much attached to me, Nemo always showed a desire to be on friendly terms with me; and when I would go into the cage to play with Mickie and McGinty, he always wanted to be counted in the game. When I had anything for them to eat he always wanted a seat of honour at the table, and he would at times want to fight for me when the other monkeys got too friendly. Poor little fellow, he is now dead, but the image of his cute little face and original character are deeply imprinted on my mind. I was never able to secure a record of the sounds of his little voice, though I have often heard him talk. He had a soft musical voice, and great power of facial expression. [Sidenote: APOLOGY TO DODO] One of the most remarkable things I have ever observed among monkeys was done by this little fellow. On two separate occasions I have seen him apologise to Dodo in the most humble manner for something he had done, and I tried very hard to secure a record of this particular speech, in which I totally failed, as I could not foreknow when such an act would be done, and therefore could not have my phonograph in place to obtain such a record. I called the attention of Mr. F. S. Church, the eminent artist, to this act, with the hope that he might be able to make a sketch of Nemo while in this attitude. I do not know what the offence was, but the pose and expression as well as the speech were very impressive. He sat in a crouching position, with the left hand clasping the right wrist, and delivered his speech in a most energetic but humble manner. The expression on his face could not be misunderstood. After a few moments he paused briefly, and then seemed to repeat the same thing some two or three times. The manner of his delivery was very suggestive, and his demeanour was conciliatory. When he had quite finished his speech, Dodo, to whom the apology was being made, and who had listened to it in perfect silence, delivered a sound blow with her right hand on the left side of the face of the little penitent, to which he responded with a soft cry, while Dodo turned and left him without further debate. I also called the attention of the keeper to this act, and he assured me that he had repeatedly witnessed the same. What the subject of his speech was or the cause which brought it about I am not able to say, nor can I say with certainty to what extent he explained, but that it was an apology, or explanation of some kind at least, I have not the slightest doubt. I do not believe, of course, that his speech contained any details concerning the offence, but that it expressed regret, penitence, or submission does not to my mind admit of a doubt. I have seen a few other cases somewhat similar to this, but none of them comparing in point of polish and pathos to that of Nemo in his unique little speech. Nigger was of this same species: he was in poor health most of the winter, being afflicted with some spinal trouble. But, notwithstanding his affliction, he was a good talker. His infirmity, however, placed him at the mercy of the other inmates of the cage, and as monkeys are naturally cruel and entirely destitute of sympathy, the daily life of Nigger could not be expected to be a very happy one. From this state of facts Nigger usually kept to himself, and was not intimate with any other monkey in the cage. I have frequently given Nigger some choice bits of food while I was in the cage, and protected him from the other monkeys while he was eating it. This he seemed to fully appreciate, and always located himself at a certain point in the cage where his defence could be effected with the least difficulty. Nigger frequently indulged in the most pathetic and touching appeals to his keeper, and went through many of the gestures, sounds, and contortions which will be described in the next chapter, as a part of the speech and conduct of Dodo, some of whose remarkable poses and expressions have been faithfully portrayed by Mr. Church. [Sidenote: McGINTY AT CENTRAL PARK] Among my personal friends of the Simian race, there is none more devoted to me than little McGinty, another winter boarder at Central Park. From the first of my acquaintance with McGinty we had been staunch friends, and when I go to visit him he expresses the most unbounded delight. He will reach his little arms through the bars of the cage, and put his hands on my cheeks, hold his mouth up to the wires, and talk to me at great length. When I go into the cage he will place himself on a perch in the cage, where he will sit with his arms around my neck, lick my cheeks affectionately, pull my ears, and chatter to me in a sweet but plaintive tone. When Mickie joins the play, which he invariably does, by climbing or jumping on to my shoulders, and interrupting the _tête-à-tête_ between McGinty and myself, poor little McGinty's jealousy, which is his supreme passion, causes him to retire in disgust, and he will sometimes pout for several minutes without even accepting food from me. After he has pouted for a while, however, he will sometimes make overtures of reconciliation and seek by various means to divert my attention. One of his favourite means of renewing favour with me, was to whip poor little Nigger. He would look at me and laugh, grin and make grimaces, and then dash off at Nigger and want to eat him up. He did not seem to understand why I objected to this whipping Nigger. Monkeys do not regard it as a breach of honour to whip the helpless and feeble members of their tribe. They are not unlike a large percentage of mankind. They always hunt for easy prey, and want to fight something that is easily whipped. They are not great cowards, but when once whipped they rarely attempt the second time to contest matters with their victors. [Sidenote: CAGE OF CAPUCHIN MONKEYS] In this cage, containing five brown Capuchin monkeys, it was not difficult to see that Mickie ran things to suit himself. McGinty was the only one of the four in the cage with him that ever contested any right with Mickie, and for a long time it was a question in my mind who was to win in the end. The next to them in authority was Dodo, who never attempted to control Mickie or McGinty, but always made Nemo and Nigger stand about. Fourth in line of authority was Nemo, who always resented any offence from others by making Nigger take a corner; and the only victims that Nigger had were the little white-faces, which never fight anything and are always on the run. When it was finally decided between Mickie and McGinty that Mickie should be captain, McGinty readily accepted the place of first lieutenant, which rank he has continued to hold without challenge. When once the question is settled among the cage of Simians, the debate does not appear to be renewed at any future time. They never go to court with their grievances, and rarely appeal a second time to force when the question has once been decided against them. Some human beings might profit by studying this trait of monkeys. CHAPTER VI. Dago Talks about the Weather--Tells me of his Troubles--Dodo in the "Balcony Scene"--Her Portrait by a great Artist. On one of my visits to Chicago, in the autumn of 1890, I went to pay my respects to Dago, the little brown monkey in Lincoln Park. He had been sick for a while, and had not fully recovered, although he was able to receive visitors, and his appetite for pea-nuts was fairly well restored. On the morning of which I speak, it was dark and stormy. A fierce wind and terrible rain prevailed from the north-west. I went to the building just after daylight, in order to be alone with the monkey, and when I entered the house, Frenchie, the head-keeper, told me how very sick little Dago had been since I had left him on the day before. I approached the cage and began to caress him, to which he replied in low whimpering tones, as though he understood the nature of what I was saying to him. Presently he raised himself erect upon his hind feet, and placing his hands on his side, pressed and rubbed it as though he was in great pain, and uttered some sounds in a low, piping voice. The sound itself was pathetic, and when accented by his gestures, it was really very touching. [Sidenote: DAGO AND THE WEATHER] At this juncture, a hard gust of wind and rain dashed against the window near his cage, whereupon the little monk turned away from me, ran to the window and looked out, and uttered a sound quite different from the ones he had just been delivering to me. Still standing erect, he appeared deeply interested, and stood for a few moments at the window, during which time he would turn his head towards me and utter this sound. That the sound he uttered was addressed to me could not be doubted, and his manner in doing so was very human-like. Then returning to me, still standing erect, he would renew this plaintive speech in the most earnest manner, and continue it until another gust would call him to the window. I observed that each time he went to the window he uttered the same sound, as well as I could detect by ear, and would stand for some time watching out of the window, and occasionally turn his head and repeat this sound to me. When returning to me again, he would resume his sad story, whatever it was. I secured a good record of that part of his speech which was made when near me at the front of the cage, but the remarks made while at the window were not so well recorded, yet they were audible, and I reproduced them on the phonograph at a subsequent visit. My opinion was that the sound he uttered while at the window must allude in some way to the state of the weather, and this opinion was confirmed by the fact that on a later occasion, when I repeated the record to him, the weather was fair; but when the machine repeated those sounds which he had uttered at the window on the day of the storm, it would cause him to turn away and look out of the window; while at the other part of the record he evinced but little interest, and, in fact, seemed rather to avoid the phonograph as though the sounds suggested something which he disliked. I am quite sure that the remarks which he made to me at the front of the cage were a complaint of some kind, and, from its intonation and the manner in which it was delivered, I believed that it was an expression of pain. It occurred to me that the state of the weather might have something to do with his feelings, and that he was conscious of this fact, and desired to inform me of it. About a year from that time, I became quite intimate with a feeble little monkey, which is described elsewhere by the name of Pedro, and of whose speech I made a good record. The sounds of his speech so closely resembled those made by Dago, that I was not able to see that they differed in any respect, except in loudness. Unfortunately, the cylinders containing Dago's record had been broken in shipping, and I was therefore unable to compare the two by analysis; but the sounds themselves resembled in a striking degree, and the manner of delivery was not wholly unlike, except that Pedro did not assume the same pose nor emphasise them with the same gestures. [Sidenote: DODO, THE JULIET OF THE TRIBE] During my stay in New York the past winter, I have been frequently entertained by a like speech from little Dodo, who was the Juliet of the Simian tribe. She belonged to the same species as the others, but her oratory was of a type far superior to that of any other of its kind that I have ever heard. At almost any hour of the day, at the approach of her keeper, she would stand upright and deliver to him the most touching and impassioned address. The sounds which she used, and the gestures with which she accented them, as far as I could determine, were the same as those used by Dago and Pedro in their remarks to me as above described, except that Dodo delivered her lines in a much more impressive manner than either of the others. [Sidenote: DODO AND HER KEEPER] I asked the keeper to go into the cage with me, and see if he could take her into his hands. We entered the cage, and after a little coaxing she allowed him to take her into his arms, and after caressing her for a while, and assuring her that no harm was meant, she would put her slender little arms about his neck, and cuddle her head up under his chin like an injured child. She would caress him by licking his cheeks and chattering to him in a voice full of sympathy, and an air of affection worthy of a human being. During most of this time she would continue her pathetic speech without a moment's pause, and was not willing under any conditions to be separated from him. The only time at which she would ever show any anger at me, or threaten me with assault, would be when I would attempt to lay hands on her keeper, or release him from her warm embrace. At such times, however, she would fly at me with great fury, and attempt to tear my very clothes off, and on these occasions she would not allow any other inmate of the cage to approach him, or to receive his attention or caresses. The sounds which she uttered were pitiful at times, and the tale she told must have been full of the deepest woe. I have not been able up to this time to translate these sounds literally, but their import cannot be misunderstood. My belief is that her speech was a complaint against the inmates of the cage, and that she was begging her keeper not to leave her alone in that great iron prison, with all those big, bad monkeys, who were so cruel to her. One reason for believing this to be the nature of her speech, is that in all cases where I have heard this speech and seen these gestures made, the conditions were such as to indicate that such was its nature. It has, however, every appearance of love-making of the most intense type. It is quite impossible to describe fully and accurately the sounds, and much more so the gestures, made on these occasions, so that the reader would be impressed as with the real act and speech. Dodo would stand erect on her feet, cross her hands on her heart, and in the most touching but graceful manner go through with the most indescribable contortions; she would sway her body from side to side, turn her head in the most coquettish manner, and move her folded hands dramatically, while her face would be adorned with a Simian grin of the first order, and the soft, rich notes of her voice were perfectly musical. She would bend her body into every graceful curve that can be imagined, move her feet with the grace of the minuet, and continue her fervent speech as long as the object of her admiration appeared to be touched by her appeals. Her voice would range from pitch to pitch and from key to key, and, with her arms folded, she would glide across the floor of her cage with the grace of a ballet girl; and I have seen her stand with her eyes fixed upon her keeper, and hold her face in such a position as not to lose sight of him for a moment, and at the same time turn her body entirely around, in her tracks, with the skill which no contortionist has ever attained. [Sidenote: MONKEYS SHED TEARS] During these orations I have observed the little tears standing in the corner of her eyes, which indicated that she herself must have felt what her speech was intended to convey. These little creatures do not shed tears in such abundance as human beings do, but they are real tears, and are doubtless the result of the same causes that move the human eyes to tears. It has been my experience that these sounds appeal directly to our better feelings. What there is in the sound itself I cannot say, but it touches some chord in the human heart which vibrates in response to it. It has impressed me with the thought that all our senses are like the strings of some great harp, each one having a certain tension; so that any sound produced through an emotion would find response in that chord which is in unison with it. Indeed, I have thought that our emotions and sensations may be like the diatonic scale in music, and that the organs through which they act may respond in tones and semitones, and that each multiple of any fundamental tone will affect the chord in unison with it, like the strings upon a musical instrument. The logical deduction thence would be, that our sympathies and affections are the chords, and our aversions and contempt the discords, of that great harp of passion. CHAPTER VII. Interpretation of Words--Specific Words and Signs--The Negative Sign and Sounds--Affirmative Expressions--Possible Origin of Negative and Positive Signs. In my intercourse with these little creatures, I cannot forget how often I have caught the spirit of their tones when no ray of meaning as mere words of speech had dawned upon me, and it is partly through such means that I have been able to interpret them. As a rule, each act of a monkey is attended by some sound, and each sound by some act, which, to another monkey of the same species, always means a certain thing. There are many cases, perhaps, in which acquired words or shades of dialect are not quite clear to them, just as we often find in human speech; but monkeys appear to meet this difficulty and overcome it, just as men do. They talk with one another on a limited number of subjects, but in very few words, which they frequently repeat if necessary. Their language is purely one of sounds, and while those sounds are accompanied by signs, as a rule, I think they are quite able to get along better with the sounds alone than with the signs alone. The rules by which we may interpret the sounds of Simian speech are the same as those by which we would interpret human speech. If you should be cast away upon an island inhabited by some strange race of people whose speech was so unlike your own that you could not understand a single word of it, you would watch the actions of those people and see what act they did in connection with any sound they made, and in this way you would gradually learn to associate a certain sound with a certain act, until at last you would be able to understand the sound without seeing the act at all; and such is the simple line I have pursued in the study of the speech of this little race--only I have been compelled to resort to some very novel means of doing my part of the talking. Since I have been so long associated with them, I have learned to know in many cases what act they will perform in response to certain sounds; and as I grow more and more familiar with these sounds, I become better able to distinguish them, just as we do with human speech. [Sidenote: SPECIFIC TERMS] Until recently, I have believed that their sounds were so limited in number as to preclude any specific terms in their vocabulary; but now I am inclined to modify this opinion somewhat, as I have reason to believe that they have some specific terms--such as a word for monkey, another word for fruit, and so on. They do not specify, perhaps, the various kinds of monkeys; but monkeys in general, in contradistinction to birds or dogs. Their word for fruit does not specify the kind, but only means fruit in a collective sense, and only as a kind of food. I am not positive as yet that their specific terms may even go so far as this, but I infer that such may be the case from one fact which I have observed in my experience. When I show a monkey his image in a mirror, he utters a sound on seeing it, especially if he has been kept away from other monkeys for a long time; and all monkeys of the same species, so far as I have observed, under like conditions use the same sound and address it in the same way to the image in the glass. In a few instances I have seen strange monkeys brought in contact with each other, and have observed that they use this same sound on their first meeting. The sound is always uttered in a low, soft tone, and appears to have the value of a salutation. When kept in a cage with other monkeys, they do not appear to salute the image in the glass, but chatter to it, and show less surprise at seeing it than in cases where they have been kept alone for some time. In cases where monkeys have been fed for a long time on bread and milk, or on any one kind of food, when a banana is shown him he uses a sound which the phonograph shows to differ slightly from the ordinary food sound. I have recently had reason to suspect that this difference of inflection somewhat qualifies the sound, and has a tendency to make it more specific. The rapidity with which these creatures utter their speech is so great that only such ears as theirs can detect these very slight inflections. I am now directing my observations and experiments to this end, with the hope that I may determine with certainty in what degree they qualify their sounds, by inflections or otherwise. I have observed that in the phonograph the sounds which formerly appeared to me to be the same are easily distinguished when treated in the manner described in the second part of this work, where I describe at length some of my experiments with this wonderful machine. [Sidenote: THE NEGATIVE SIGN] One of the most certain of my discoveries in the Simian speech, is the negative sign and the word "no." The sign is made by shaking the head from side to side in a fashion almost exactly like that used by man to express the same idea. I have no longer any doubt of the intent and meaning of this sign, and the many tests to which I have subjected it compel me accept the result as final. [Sidenote: SIGN COMMON TO MAN AND SIMIAN] A little more than a year ago, my attention was called to this sign by the children who own the little Capuchin, Jack, in Charlestown. A number of times they said to him in my presence, "Jack, you must go to bed." At which he would shake his little black head, as if he really did not wish to comply. I watched this with great interest; but it was my belief at that time that he had been trained to do this, and that the sign did not really signify to him anything at all. The children, however, declared to me that he really meant "no." To believe that he meant this would presuppose that he understood the combination of words quoted; and this was beyond the limits of my faith, although it was certain that a repetition of the sentence always elicited from him the same sign, which indicated that he recognised it as the same sentence or combination of sounds, and gave it the same reply each time. I concluded that he had been taught to associate this sign with some sound--for instance, "bed" or "go"; but since that time I have found the sign to be almost universal with this species of monkey, and they use the sign to express negation. I have seen them use the sign in response to certain things which were wholly new to them, but where the idea was clear to them and they desired to express dissent. The fact that this sign is common to both man and Simian, I regard as more than a mere coincidence; and I believe that in this sign I have found the psycho-physical basis of expression. I have made scores of experiments on this subject, and I find this sign a fixed factor of expression. In one case, where I tried to induce a monkey to allow me to take him into my hands from the hand of his master, he would shake his head each time, and make a peculiar sound somewhat like a suppressed cluck. I would try to coax him with nuts, in response to which he would make the same sound and sign each time, and his actions showed beyond all controversy his intention. I had taught a monkey to drink milk from a bottle by sucking it through a rubber nipple, and after he had satisfied his thirst, when I would try to force the bottle to his lips, he would invariably respond by a shake of the head in the manner described, and at the same time utter a clucking sound. I tried many similar experiments with three or four other monkeys, and secured the same result in each case. In another instance, where a monkey was confined in a small cage so that I could easily catch him in order to tame him by handling, when I would put my hand into the cage to catch him, he would shake his head in this manner and accompany the act by a plaintive sound which was so touching, that I could not obtain my own consent to persecute the little prisoner by compelling him to submit to my caresses. I have found that the little rogue, McGinty, in Central Park does the same thing at times when I go into the cage and attempt to put my hands on him, and especially when he has taken refuge in a corner to nurse his jealousy. While I remain outside the cage, he is so devoted to me that he will scarcely leave me to get something to eat; but when I enter the cage, and reach out my hand toward him, he will shake his little head and utter that peculiar clucking sound. Many of these tests I have repeated over and over with the same results, and, noting the conditions at the time, I am thoroughly convinced that the sign and sound mean "no." I have observed that this sign is always made in the same manner; but sometimes it is accompanied by a clucking sound, while at other times it is a soft whimpering sound, almost like a low plaintive whistle. [Sidenote: SIGN USED WITHOUT SOUND] The sign is frequently used without the sound at all, and I must impress it upon my reader that these results do not always present themselves in every experiment, as much depends upon the mood and surroundings of the subject. I have found that one advantage is to have the monkey confined in a very small cage, as otherwise he will turn away and get out of your reach when you press anything upon him that he does not want. I have also found much better results by having the monkey alone, and where he can neither see nor hear other monkeys. Having discovered the sign of negation among the Simians, I began an investigation to ascertain how far it could be found among the races of mankind. I have carried my search far beyond the limits of local inquiry, and up to this time I have found only a few trifling exceptions in the use of this sign among all the races of men, and those few exceptions are found among the Caucasian race, and appear to be confined to Southern Europe. I have heard that among certain island tribes of Polynesia these signs are reversed, but I have been assured by two officers of the English navy and two of the United States navy, who have visited the islands in question, that such is not the case. Among the Indians, Mongolians, and Negroes I have found no noteworthy exceptions. I have inquired among mothers who have raised families to ascertain when they first observed this sign as an expression among their children; and from the consensus of opinion it appears that this is about the first sign used by infants to express negation. [Sidenote: THE POSITIVE SIGN] I have not found the positive sign, or sign of affirmation, by a nod of the head, to be so general, yet it has a wide range within the human family, and appears to be used to some extent among the lower primates. Seeking a source from which these signs may have originated, I have concluded that they may arise from two circumstances. The negative sign doubtless comes from an effort to turn the head away from something which is not desired, and that with such an intent it has gradually crystallised into an instinctive expression of negation or refusal; while the nod of affirmation or approval may have grown out of the intuitive lowering of the head, as an act of submission or acquiescence, or from reaching the head forward to receive something desired, or they may have come from these two causes conjointly. [Sidenote: ALPHABET FOR SIMIAN SPEECH] This is only one of a great many points in which the speech of Simians coincides with that of man. It is true we have no letters in our alphabet with which to represent the sounds of their speech, nor have we the phonetic equivalence of their speech in our language; but it is also true that our alphabet does not fully represent or correctly express the entire phonetic range of our own speech; but the fact that our speech is not founded upon the same phonetic basis, or built up into the same phonetic structures, is no reason that their speech is not as truly speech as our own. That there are no letters in any alphabet which represent the phonetic elements of Simian speech, is doubtless due to the fact that there has never been any demand for such; but the same genius which invented an alphabet for human speech, actuated by the same motives and led by the same incentives, could as easily invent an alphabet for Simian speech. It is not only true that the phonetic elements of our language are not represented by the characters of our alphabet, but the same is true to some extent of our words, which do not quite keep pace with human thought. In the higher types of human speech there are thousands of words and ideas which cannot be translated into or expressed by any savage tongue, because no savage ever had use for them, and no savage tongue contains their equivalence. The growth of speech is always measured by the growth of mind. They are not always of the same extent, but always bear a common ratio. It is a mental product, and must be equal to the task of coining thoughts into words. It is essential to all social order, and no community could long survive as such without it. It is as much the product of mind and matter as salt is the product of chlorine and sodium. CHAPTER VIII. Meeting with Nellie--Nellie was my Guest--Her Speech and Manners--The little Blind Girl--One of Nellie's Friends--Her Sight and Hearing--Her Toys, and how she Played with them. One of the most intelligent of all the brown Capuchins that I have ever seen was Nellie, who belonged to a dealer in Washington. When she arrived there, I was invited to call and see her. I introduced myself in my usual way, by giving her the sound for food, to which she promptly replied. She was rather informal, and we were soon engaged in a chat on that subject, the one above all others that would interest a monkey. On my second visit she was like an old acquaintance, and we had a fine time. On my third visit she allowed me to put my hands into her cage, and handle her with impunity. On my next visit I took her out of the cage, and we had a real romp. This continued for some days, during which time she would answer me on all occasions when I used the word for food or drink. She had grown quite fond of me, and always recognised me as I entered the door. [Sidenote: NELLIE AND THE BLIND GIRL] About this time there came to Washington a little girl who was deaf, dumb, and blind; she was accompanied by her teacher, who acted as her interpreter. One of the greatest desires of this little girl's life was to see a live monkey--that is, to see it with her fingers. The dealer who owned the monkey sent for me to come down and show it to her, as I could handle the monkey for her. I took Nellie from the cage, and when any one except myself would put hands upon her she would growl and scold and show her temper; and when the little blind girl first attempted to put her hands on her, Nellie did not like it at all. I stroked the child's hair and cheeks with my own hand first, and then with Nellie's; she looked up at me in an inquiring manner, and uttered one of those soft, flute-like sounds a few times, and then began to pull at the cheeks and ears of the child. Within a few moments they were like old friends and playmates, and for nearly an hour they afforded each other great pleasure, at the end of which time they separated with reluctance. The little Simian acted as if she was conscious of the sad affliction of the child, but seemed at perfect ease with her, although she would decline the tenderest approach of others. She would look at the child's eyes, which were not disfigured, but lacked expression, and then look up at me as if to indicate that she was aware that the child was blind, and the little girl appeared not to be aware that monkeys could bite at all. It was a beautiful and touching scene, and one in which the lamp of instinct shed its feeble light on all around. On the following day, by an accident in which I really had no part, except that of being present, Nellie escaped from her cage, and climbed up on a shelf occupied by some bird-cages. As she attempted to climb up, of course the light wicker cages with their little yellow occupants fell to the floor by the dozen. I tried to induce her to return or to come to me, but the falling cages, the cry of the birds, the talking of parrots, and the scream of other monkeys, frightened poor Nellie almost out of her wits. Thinking that I was the cause of her trouble, because I was present, she would scream with fright at my approach. She was not an exception to that general rule which governs monkeydom, which is to suspect every one of doing wrong except itself. I had her removed to my apartment, where I supplied her with bells and toys, and fed her on the fat of the land; and by this means we slowly knitted together the broken bones of our friendship once more. But when once a monkey has grown suspicious of you they never recover entirely from it, it seems, for in every act thereafter, however slight, you can readily see that they suspect you of it; but with great care and caution you can make them almost forget the trouble. While I kept Nellie at my rooms I made some good records of her speech on the phonograph, and studied her with special care; but as the province of this work is the speech of that little race, I must forego the pleasure of telling some intensely funny things with which she entertained me, excepting so far as they are relevant to speech. [Sidenote: NELLIE'S FONDNESS FOR A LITTLE BOY] A frequent and welcome visitor to my study was a bright little boy, about six years old, for whom Nellie entertained a great fondness, as she also did for my wife. At the sight of the boy Nellie would go into perfect raptures, and when he would leave her, she would call him so earnestly and whine so pitifully that one could not refrain from sympathy. On his return she would laugh audibly, and give every sign of extreme joy. She never tired of his company, nor gave any part of her attention to others when he was present. Some children living next door always found great delight in calling to see Nellie, and she always showed her pleasure at their visits. On these occasions, Nellie made it a point to entertain them, and always showed herself to the best advantage. When I wished to make a good record of her sounds, and especially of her laughter, I always brought the little boy to my aid. The boy would conceal himself in the room, and after Nellie had called him a few times he would jump out from his place of concealment and surprise her, whereupon she would laugh till she could be heard through the whole house; and in this manner I secured some of the best records I have ever made of the laughter of any monkey. When the boy would conceal himself again, I secured the peculiar sound with which she would try to attract his attention. The sound which she used in calling him or my wife was unlike that which she made for any other purpose; and while it is difficult to say whether the grammatical value of this sound is that of a noun or of a verb, it is evident that it was used for the special purpose of calling or attracting attention. If its value is that of a noun, it has not, in my opinion, any specific character, but a term which would be applied alike to boys, monkeys, horses, birds, or any other thing which she might desire to call. If in its nature it is a verb, it is equivalent to the name of the act, and combines the force of the imperative and infinitive moods. [Sidenote: EMOTIONS OF MAN AND SIMIAN] The uniform expression of the emotions of man and Simian is such as to suggest that, if thought was developed from emotion and speech was developed from thought, that the expressions of emotion were the rudiments from which speech is developed. A striking point of resemblance between human speech and that of the Simian is found in a word which Nellie used to warn me of approaching danger. It is not that sound which I have elsewhere described as the alarm-sound, and which is used only in case of imminent and awful danger; but this sound is used in case of remote danger or in announcing something unusual. As nearly as I can represent the sound by letters, it would be "e-c-g-k," and with this word I have been warned by these little friends many times since I first heard it from Nellie. [Sidenote: NELLIE'S ACTIONS ALMOST HUMAN] In the following experiment this sound was used with great effect. Nellie's cage occupied a place in my study near my desk. She would stay awake at night as long as the light was kept burning, and as I have always kept late hours, I did not violate the rule of my life in order to give her a good night's rest. About two o'clock one morning, when I was about to retire, I found Nellie wide awake. I drew my chair up to her cage, and sat watching her pranks as she tried to entertain me with bells and toys. I tied a long thread to a glove, which I placed in a corner of the room at a distance of several feet from me, but without letting her see it. I held one end of the string in my hand, I drew the glove obliquely across the floor towards the cage. When I first tightened the string, which I had drawn across one knee and under the other, the glove moved very slightly, and this her quick eye caught at the very first motion. Standing almost on tip-toe, her mouth half open, she would peep cautiously at the glove, and then in a low whisper would say "e-c-g-k"! And every second or so would repeat it, at the same time watching me, to see whether I was aware of the approach of this goblin. Her actions were almost human, while her movements were as stealthy as those of a cat. As the glove came closer and closer she became more and more demonstrative, and when at last she saw the monster climbing up the leg of my trousers, she uttered the sound aloud and very rapidly, and tried to get to the object, which she evidently thought was some living thing. She detected the thread with which I drew the glove across the floor, but seemed in doubt as to what part it played in this act. I saw her eyes several times follow the thread from my knee to the glove, but I do not think she discovered what caused the glove to move. Having done this for a few times, however, with about the same result each time, I relieved her anxiety and fright by allowing her to examine the glove, which she did with marked interest for a moment and then turned away. I tried the same thing over again, but failed to elicit from her the slightest interest after she had examined the glove. [Sidenote: SOUND OF WARNING] It will be observed that when Nellie first discovered the glove moving on the floor, as she attempted to call my attention in a low whisper, and as the object approached me she became more earnest, and uttered the sound somewhat louder, and when she discovered the monster, as she regarded it, climbing up my leg, she uttered her warning in a loud voice, not a scream or a yell, but in a tone sufficiently loud for the distance over which the warning was conveyed. The fact of her whispering indicates that her idea of sound was well defined; her purpose was to warn me of the approaching danger without alarming the object against which her warning was intended to prepare me; and as the danger approached me, her warning became more urgent, and when she saw the danger was at hand her warning was no longer concealed or restrained. Another sound which these little creatures use in a somewhat similar manner, is a word which may be represented by the letters "c-h-i." The "c-h" is guttural like the final "ch" in German, and "i" short like the sound of "i" in hit. This sound is used to give warning of the approach of something which the monkey does not fear, such as approaching footsteps or the sound of voices; and this sound Nellie always used to warn my wife of my approach when I was coming up the stairway. The rooms which I occupied while I kept Nellie were located on the second floor, and the dining-room was on the ground-floor; and hence there were two flights of stairs between, both of which were carpeted. So acute was her sense of hearing, that she would detect my footsteps on the lower stairway, and warn my wife of my approach. She manifested no interest, as a rule, in the sounds made by other persons passing up and down the stairway, which indicated that she not only heard the sounds of my footsteps but recognised them. The first intimation she would give of my coming was always in a whisper. She would first make the sound "c-h-i," and then she would stop and listen. She would repeat the sound and listen again, and as I would approach the door in the hall she would lift her voice to its natural pitch, and utter this sound three or four times in quick succession; and when I turned the door-knob she would show some excitement, and when I entered the room she would always express her satisfaction with a little chuckle. This sound she did not use except to announce something of which she was not afraid, but when she apprehended danger from the cause of the sound, she would use the word "e-c-g-k," and when greatly alarmed she would use the sound which I have described in the former chapter as that of intense alarm or assault. [Sidenote: MONKEYS DO NOT TALK WHEN ALONE] Nellie was an affectionate little creature, and could not bear to be left alone, even when supplied with toys and everything she wanted to eat. When she would see me put on my overcoat, or get my hat and cane, she knew what it meant; and when she would see my wife, to whom she was much devoted, put on her cloak and bonnet, she at once foresaw that she would be left alone. Then she would plead and beg and chatter, until she sometimes dissuaded my wife, and she seemed aware that she had accomplished her purpose. I have watched her by the hour, through a small hole in the door, and when quite alone she would play with her toys in perfect silence, and sometimes for hours together she would not utter a single word. She was not an exception to the rule which I have mentioned heretofore, that monkeys do not talk when alone, or when it is not necessary to their comfort or pleasure; and while I am aware that their speech is far inferior to human speech, yet in it there is an eloquence that soothes, and a meaning that appeals to the human heart. CHAPTER IX. Affections--A little Flirtation--Some of my personal Friends. Nellie had spent much of her life in captivity and had been used to the society of children, for whom she showed the greatest fondness, and rarely ever betrayed the slightest aversion to any of them. She delighted to pat their cheeks, pull their ears, and tangle their hair. One of her favourite pastimes was to pull the hairpins out of my wife's hair so that she could get hold of it the better to play with, and my wife has often remarked that Nellie would make an excellent lady's-maid. She would clean one's finger-nails with the skill of a manicure. She would pick every shred, ravelling, or speck from one's clothing. Her aversions and attachments were equally strong. She was not selfish in selecting her friends, nor did she seem to be influenced by age or beauty. [Sidenote: MONKEYS SHOULD HAVE TOYS] To let her out of her cage and give her something to play with was happiness enough for her, and I almost think she preferred such a life to the freedom of her Amazon forests. But you cannot afford to turn one out of the cage in a room where there is anything that can be torn or broken, as they enjoy such mischief in the highest degree. Nellie would beg me so piteously to be taken from her little iron prison that I could not have the cruelty to refuse her, even at the cost of some trouble in preparing the room for her; and as we retain these little captives against their will, and treat them worse than slaves by keeping them in close confinement, I think we should at least try to amuse them. It is true they do not have to toil, but I think it would be more humane to make them work in the open air than to confine them so closely, and then deprive them of every source of pleasure. As an act of humanity and simple justice, I would impress upon those who keep such little pets how important a thing it is to keep them supplied with toys. They are just like children in this respect, and for a trifle one can furnish them with all the toys they need. It is cruel, absolutely cruel, to keep these little creatures confined in solitude and deny them the simple pleasure they find in playing with a bell, ball or marbles; and besides this, a trifling outlay in this way will very much prolong their lives. A monkey is always happy if he has something to play with and plenty to eat. [Sidenote: NELLIE WITH THE MATCH-BOX] I do not know of any investment of mine which ever yielded such a great return in pleasure as one little pocket match-safe which cost me twenty-five cents, and which I gave to Nellie one evening to play with. I had put into it a small key to make it rattle, and also some bits of candy. She rattled the box, and found some pleasure in the noise it made. I showed her a few times how to press the spring in order to open it, but her little black fingers were not strong enough to release the spring and make the lid fly open. However, she caught the idea, and knew that the spring was the secret which held it; and when she found that she could not open it with her fingers, she tried it with her teeth. Failing in this, she turned to the wall, and standing upright on the top of her cage, she took the box in both hands and struck the spring against the wall until the lid flew open. She was perfectly delighted at the result, and for the hundredth time at least I closed the box for her to open again. On the following day, when some friends came in to visit her, I gave her the match-box to open again. On this occasion, however, she was in her cage and could not reach the wall through its meshes, and hence had nothing against which to strike the spring to force it open. After looking around her in all directions and striking the box against the wires of her cage a few times, she discovered a block of wood in her cage about six inches square by an inch thick, and this she took and mounted her perch. Balancing the block on the perch she held it with the left foot, while with her right foot she held on to the perch, and with her tail wound through the meshes of her cage to steady herself, she carefully adjusted the match-box in her hands in such a manner as to protect her fingers from the blow. Then striking the spring against the block of wood the lid flew open, and she fairly screamed with delight, and held the box up with pride, wanting me to close the lid again, in order that she might open it. Finding that the late hours which I kept were beginning to tell on Nellie, and that during the day from time to time I would catch her taking a little nap, I concluded to use some curtains around her cage to avoid disturbing her rest. I drew them around the cage, lapped them over, and pinned them down in front. Then I turned down the light and kept quiet for a while to allow her to go to sleep. After the lapse of a few minutes, I slowly turned up the light and resumed my writing. In an instant I heard the curtains rustle, and looked around, and there I saw her little brown eyes peeping through the folds of the curtains, which she held apart with her little black hands. When she saw what it was that caused all this disturbance, she chattered to me in her soft rich tones, and tried so hard to pull the curtains apart that I removed them from her cage so that she could look around the room. To see her holding the curtains apart in that graceful manner, turning her head from side to side, peeping and smiling at me, and talking in such low tones, was so much like a real flirtation that one who has not seen the like cannot fully appreciate it. And only those who have experienced the warm and unselfish friendship of these little creatures can realise how strong the attachment becomes. When once you enjoy the confidence of a monkey, nothing can shake it, except some act of your own, or one at least which they attribute to you. Their little ears are proof against gossip, and their tongues are free from it. [Sidenote: THE LOVE OF MONKEYS] Among the little captives of the Simian race who spend their lives in iron prisons to gratify the cruelty of man, and not to expiate some crime committed or inherent, I have many little friends to whom I am attached, and whose devotion to me is as warm and sincere, so far as I can see, as that of any human being. I must confess that I cannot discern in what intrinsic way the love they have for me differs from my own for them. I cannot see in what respect their love is less divine than is my own. I cannot see in what respect the affections of a dog for a kind master differ from those of a child for a kind parent, nor can I see in what respect the sense of fear for a cruel master differs from that of a child for a cruel parent. It is mere sentiment that ascribes to those of a child a higher source than the same passions in the dog--the dog could have loved or feared another master just as well; and filial love or fear would have reached out its tendrils just as far with all the ties of kindred blood removed. It has been said that one is able to assign a definite reason _why_, and that the other is a vague impulse; but I am too obtuse to understand how reason actuates to love, and instinct to a mere attachment. I cannot believe that in the essential and ultimate nature of these passions there can be shown any real difference. Whether it be reason or instinct in man, the affections of the lower animals are actuated by the same motives, governed by the same conditions, and guided by the same reasons as those of man. I shall not soon forget some of my monkey friends, and I am sure they will not forget me; for I see them sometimes after months of absence, and they usually recognise me at sight and show every sign of pleasure at my return. CHAPTER X. The Capuchin Vocabulary--What I have Found--What I Foresee in it. Up to this time I have been able to determine with a fair degree of certainty nine words or sounds belonging to Capuchins, some of which sounds are so inflected as to have two or three different meanings, I think. The sound which I have translated food and found to have a much wider meaning, long perplexed me, because I found it used under so many conditions and had not been able to detect any difference of modulation. I find one form of this sound used for food in general, but when modulated in a certain way seems to specify the kind of food. I observed that this sound seemed to be a salutation or peacemaking term with them, which I attributed to the fact that food was the central thought of every monkey's life, and that consequently that word would naturally be the most important of his whole speech. During the past winter, I found that another modulation of this word expressed a wish to obtain a thing, and appeared to me to be almost equivalent to the verb "give," when used in the imperative mood, something like this, "Give me that." I have succeeded a great number of times, by the use of this word, in inducing McGinty to give me a part of his food, and on many occasions to hand me from his cage a ball, a club, or some such thing that I had given him to play with. Under suitable conditions, I could soon determine to what extent these inflections control their actions, but with the surroundings of a zoological garden the task is very difficult. However, I am quite satisfied that the sound which I have translated food is shaded by them into several kindred meanings. The word "drink" appears to be more fixed, both in its form and meaning. I have not yet been able to detect any difference in the sound whether water, milk, or other liquids be desired; but this is quite natural, since they have but little variety in the things they drink. [Sidenote: SOUNDS "WEATHER" AND "LOVE"] The sound which I had thought meant "weather," or in some way alluded to the state of the weather, I am not sure how far that may be relied upon as a separate word. It was so closely connected to the speech of discontent or pain when made by little Dago, that I have not been able since to separate the sounds, and I finally abandoned it as a separate word; but reviewing my work, and recalling the peculiar conduct of this monkey and the conditions attending it, I believe it is safe to say that he had in mind the state of the weather. The sound which I have translated "love" is only in the sense of firm and ardent friendship. The expressions of love between sexes I have not been able as yet to find with certainty. A few sounds, however, made under certain conditions, I have reason to believe bear upon this subject, but I am not yet ready to announce my opinions thereon. The "alarm" sound, as I have translated it, has been described; but among the Capuchins I find three kindred words, quite unlike as mere sounds, but closely allied in meaning. The one just mentioned is used under the stress of great fear, or in case of assault. It is a shrill, piercing sound, very loud and very high in pitch. The second word, "e-c-g-k," used only to express apprehension, or as a warning of the approach of a thing they fear or do not like; and the last of these, which is a guttural whisper, is used merely to call attention to the approach of something which the monkey does not fear or dislike, which I have spelt "c-h-i." I have referred elsewhere, without describing it, to the sound which Nellie used for calling, and which she employed when attempting to dissuade my wife from going out and leaving her alone. It is a peculiar sound, something like a whine, but very plaintive and suggestive. I cannot represent it in letters. [Sidenote: THE CAPUCHIN TONGUE] There are many sounds about which I am yet in doubt, and some shades of meaning are not clear, but these sounds described include the greater part of my knowledge of the Capuchin tongue, and I shall now proceed to the sounds of some of the other monkeys. Standing on this frail bridge of speech, I see into that broad field of life and thought which lies beyond the confines of our care, and into which, through the gates that I have now unlocked, may soon be borne the sunshine of human intellect. What prophet now can foretell the relations which may yet obtain between the human race and those inferior forms which fill some place in the design, and execute some function in the economy of nature? A knowledge of their language cannot injure man, and may conduce to the good of others, because it would lessen man's selfishness, widen his mercy, and restrain his cruelty. It would not place man more remote from his divinity, nor change the state of facts which now exist. Their speech is the only gateway to their minds, and through it we must pass if we would learn their secret thoughts and measure the distance from mind to mind. CHAPTER XI. The Word for Food in the Rhesus Dialect--The Rhesus Sound of Alarm--The Dialect of the White-face--Dolly Varden, "Uncle Remus," and others. From a number of sounds uttered by the Rhesus monkeys, I finally selected the word which, for many reasons, I believed meant food, and was the equivalent in meaning to that word in the Capuchin tongue. The phonetic character of the words differs very widely. The sound uttered by the Rhesus, as nearly as I can represent it by letters, is "nqu-u-w." The "u" sound is about the same as in the Capuchin word, but on close examination with the phonograph it appears to be uttered in five syllables very slightly separated, while the ear only detects two. One of the most unique of my experiments I made in Central Park, in the autumn of 1891. I secured a very fine phonograph record of the food sound of the Rhesus monkeys belonging to the Park. During the following night there arrived at the Park a shipment of Rhesus monkeys, just from their home in the east of Asia. There were seven of these new monkeys, three adult females and four babies, one of whom was left an orphan by the death of its mother in her passage across the ocean. At my request the superintendent had these monkeys stored in the vacant room in the upper story of the Old Armoury building. They had never seen the monkeys in Central Park, nor had they ever been brought near enough to the monkey-house for them to learn by any means that any other monkeys were about. About sunrise I repaired to this room, where I had my phonograph placed in order, and I enjoined those who were present, by special permission, not to do anything to attract the attention of the monkeys, nor under any condition to show them any food or anything to drink. Having arranged my phonograph, I delivered to them the sounds contained on my cylinder which I had recorded on the day preceding. Up to this time not a sound had been uttered by any inmate of the shipping cage. The instant my phonograph began to reproduce the record, the seven new monkeys began to answer vociferously. After having delivered this record to them, I gave them time to become quiet again. I showed them some carrots and apples, on seeing which they began to utter the same sounds which they had uttered before, and this time I secured a good record of their sounds to compare with the others. [Sidenote: RHESUS MONKEYS] The alarm-sound as given by the Rhesus is very energetic, but not so shrill nor sharp as that of the Capuchin, nor have I discovered more than one such sound. As they are not of a high order of intelligence, nor kindly disposed unless kept in fear, I have not given them a great amount of study, but their sounds come more closely to the range of the human voice than do the sounds of the Cebus, which I regard as the Caucasian of monkeys. The Rhesus is not very intelligent, but when reared in captivity appears to be capable of some degree of domestication. The adult reared in a wild state shows many phases of vicious and uncongenial temper. When well cared for, they are rather hardy and undergo training quite well. They are not a handsome animal, being of a faded tan colour on the back, merged into a yellowish white on the less exposed parts. They have large cheek-pouches which, when not filled with food, allow the skin on the neck and jaws to hang in folds, which give them an appearance of extreme emaciation, and when full of food they are so distended as to present rather an unpleasant aspect. The sounds which the Rhesus utters in anger are harsh and unmusical, while their sound for food is soft and sympathetic, and I have made a machine which imitates it quite well. The Rhesus belong to the genus _Macacus_, one of the oldest and largest of all Simian genera. I have found the word in the dialect of the white-faced Cebus which corresponds in value to those sounds described in the dialects of the Capuchin and Rhesus monkeys meaning food, but I cannot give the faintest idea of the sound by any combination of letters, nor have I as yet devised any means by which I can imitate it. I recorded this sound on the phonograph more than a year ago, but only within the last few months have been able to tell its meaning. [Sidenote: SOUND OF DANGER] Another sound which is made by this species to express apprehension of remote danger, such as an approaching footstep or some unusual sound, I have also learned. It is very much the same phonetically as that sound which he utters in case of great and sudden alarm, but uttered with much less energy. It resembles slightly the alarm-sound of the Capuchin, but up to this time I have not been able to make a good record of it. Another sound which is peculiar to this species I think is used as a kind of salutation or expression of friendship, which phonetically is quite unlike the corresponding sound in any other dialect that I have studied. I must mention Dolly Varden, who belongs to this species, and with whom I was at one time on very warm terms of friendship. Dolly was very fond of me, and would laugh and play with me by the hour. Her laughter was very human-like, except that it was silent, and in all our play during the lapse of some weeks she never uttered a sound, not even so much as a growl, although I tried by every possible means to induce her to talk. It has occurred to me since that time that she may have been deaf and dumb, but I did not think of testing her on these points while I had an opportunity. It is not usual for monkeys to laugh in silence, although they frequently laugh aloud like human beings; but it is not a common thing for them to remain silent at all times and under all conditions. Dolly was good-natured, playful, and always showed every sign of pleasure at my visits. [Sidenote: "UNCLE REMUS"] In Central Park there is a monkey of this species which I call "Uncle Remus." He is quite fond of me, and, for my amusement, he always wants to whip a little baby monk in the same cage with him whenever I go to visit them. This species belongs to the same genus as the Capuchin, but they differ in mental calibre as widely as the Caucasian differs from the Negro; but in this case the colours are reversed. I have seen a few fairly intelligent white-faces and a great many very stupid Capuchins, but, to strike an average from a great number of each kind, they will be found very widely separated in brain power. The white-faced Cebus always has a languid expression, and looks like some poor, decrepit old man, who has borne a great burden of care through a long life, and finds his toil and patience ill-requited and is now awaiting his last call. He always has a sad face, and looks as if his friends were false. His type of speech is very far inferior to that of the Capuchin, and I do not regard him as a good subject for my work. [Sidenote: JIM AND THE MANGABY] I have learned the food sound in the dialect of the sooty Mangaby, but I have not been able to record it sufficiently well to study; but it is one of the most peculiar sounds in the whole range of Simian speech. The phonetic elements are nearly like "wuh-uh-uh," but the manner in which it is delivered is very singular. It appears to be intermixed with a peculiar clucking sound, and each sound seems independent of the other, although so closely joined in their utterance as to sound almost like they were uttered simultaneously by separate means. It is a deep guttural, below the middle pitch of the human voice, while the clucking element appears much higher in pitch, and the whole sound is marked with a strong tremolo effect. The syllables are uttered in rapid succession, and this peculiar sound under different conditions is uttered in at least three different degrees of pitch about an octave apart, but the contour appears to me the same in each. This species talks but little, is very shy, makes few friends, and is afraid of the phonograph; hence I have never been able to make a good record of its voice. I was cultivating the friendship of Jim, who recently died in Central Park, and we were getting on the best of terms; but the little Mangaby that survives him is very shy and suspicious. Immediately after Jim's death, however, when I would visit the Garden, she would always jump on the perch and take the same position that Jim had occupied whenever I would feed him. During his lifetime, she always kept her distance and never would take anything out of my hand, because she was afraid of him; but as soon as he was out of the way she assumed his place, and would utter the same sound that he had uttered at my approach. She evidently was aware of the fact that Jim and I were friends, that I always gave him something good to eat at that particular place in the cage, and that he always sat in a certain position when I gave it to him. I do not regard this species as very intelligent, nor their language as being of a high type; but they have a very human-like face, almost without hair, and very large and expressive eyes. They abound in West Africa, and have been colonised with success in the island of Mauritius; they are not very common in captivity, but much more so than some other species of less interest. CHAPTER XII. Atelles or Spider Monkeys--The Common Macaque--Java Monkeys, and what they say--A Happy Family. I have caught one sound from the spider monkey by which I have been able to attract the attention of others of the same species, but I am as yet uncertain about its meaning. I do not believe that it has any reference to food; but I think perhaps it is a term of friendship, or a sound of endearment. One reason for this belief is, that I have heard it used on several occasions when a monkey of this kind would see its image in a mirror. I have used the sound in Washington, Philadelphia, and Atlanta, and induced the monkey addressed to respond to it and come to me. I almost concluded at one time that this species was nearly dumb, until I saw one enraged by a green monkey that occupied an adjoining cage. On this occasion she raised her voice to an extremely high pitch, and uttered a sound having great volume and significance. This she repeated several times, and it was the first time I had ever seen a spider monkey show any sign of resentment. On another occasion, where this same specimen saw a brilliant peacock near the window by her cage, the sounds which she made at that strange object were loud, clear, and varied. I have read with surprise an account of a spider monkey which Dr. Gardner had with him in his travels through South America. He describes it as the most intelligent of all monkeys, but I cannot believe that his experience with monkeys was sufficient to rank him as an authority on that subject. I do not pretend, however, to know all that there is to be known concerning this species, but so far as my study of them goes they scarcely laugh, cry, or show any sign of emotion. They do not usually resent anything; thus they are harmless and timid. Their long, lean, half-clad limbs look like the ghost of poverty, and their slow, cautious movements like decrepitude begging alms. They would be objects of pity if they only had sense enough to know how Nature has slighted them. [Sidenote: "JESS"] I have recently received a letter from Mr. A. E. McCall, of Bath, New York, enclosing a photograph of a monkey of this kind, by the name of "Jess." The gentleman tells me that he has been giving some time to the study of the actions and language of this monkey, and assures me that it is very docile, and follows him like a dog, and kindly offers to make such experiments with it as I may suggest, by which to aid me in the pursuit of my own researches, and I shall take advantage of his kind offer. I am aware that there are exceptions to all rules, and I am not disposed to deprive the spider monkey of the place he may deserve in the scale of Simian life by reason of his intellect or speech; but as this book is a record of what I know, and not what I have heard of, I shall for the present be compelled to place the spider monkey very far down in the scale of intellect and speech. The common Macaque is a strong, well-built monkey, of a dark grey colour, with a short stubby tail. He has but few friends, and at times appears to regret having any at all. He is quite active, energetic, and aggressive. He endures captivity well, but as a rule never becomes quite tame or trustworthy. His speech is of a low type, but he has a very singular expression of the mouth, which seems to indicate friendship. In fact, there are several different species of the genus _Macacus_ that use this peculiar movement of the lips. They thrust the head forward and lower it slightly, and in this position work their lips as if talking with the greatest possible energy, but without uttering a sound. They do not do this for food, but I have seen them do it to their image in the glass, and have had them do so with me a great number of times. I have been told by some that this is meant as a sign of anger or assault, but my own observations tend to attribute to it exactly the reverse of this meaning. Occasionally, when I have offered them food, I have observed them do this; but I do not think it referred to the food, unless it was intended as a vote of thanks. The first monkey whose voice I ever captured on the phonograph belonged to this tribe; he is still in the Washington collection, and bears the name of "Prince," under which name he may go down to history as the first monkey whose speech was ever recorded. But whatever his fame may become on that account, I do not think he will ever justly obtain the reputation of being an amiable monkey. [Sidenote: JAVA MONKEYS] Among the Java monkeys are several varieties which make very good pets. They show a fair degree of intelligence and docility, and are not generally very vicious. I have not succeeded in making any very good records of these monkeys, although I have observed, without the aid of the phonograph, that they have one or two very distinct and well-marked sounds. I have not up to this time attempted to differentiate their sounds, but in a general way have interpreted the meanings of one or two groups of them, especially those of a friendly character. I may with propriety remark here, that in all the different tongues of monkeys there appear to be certain words which are much more significant, of a much better phonetic type, than the others, and occur much more frequently among their sounds. This appears to be true of the speech or sounds of all the lower animals. [Sidenote: MONKEYS RECOGNISE BY SIGHT] In a former chapter I have described the happy little family in Central Park, which consisted of the five little brown cousins, only a few months ago; but death has reduced their number to two. In this connection I shall mention a very important fact concerning the use of the natural senses of these animals. I have several times been assured that monkeys depended more upon their sense of smell than upon that of sight as a means of recognition, and that in this respect they were very much like the canines. I have made frequent tests of the power of their senses, and am prepared to say with certainty that such is not the case. When I visit the Park, I frequently enter at Sixty-fourth Street and Fifth Avenue, at which place there is a flight of stairs leading from the street down to a large plazza in front of the Old Armoury; and something more than a hundred feet from the foot of the stairway, and nearly at right angles to it, is a window opening into the monkey-house by the cage occupied by these particular monkeys. When I descend the stairway and come within view of this window, they frequently see me as I reach the plazza, and the keeper always knows of my approach by the conduct of the monkeys, who recognise me the instant I come in sight at that distance. At other times I have approached the house from another direction, and come within a few feet of their cage, where I have stood for some time, in order to ascertain whether they were aware of my presence; and on a few occasions have slipped into the house with the crowd, and they did not detect my presence except by sight. It is evident, if they depended upon the sense of smell, that they would have discovered my presence when so near them, although they could not see me. But no matter what the condition of the weather, or how many people are present, the instant one of them sees me he spreads the news, and every inmate of the cage rushes to the window and begins to scream at the top of his voice. If their sense of smell was such as to enable them to detect my presence as a dog would, it is reasonable also that the monkey which possessed the most sensitive organs would have been the first to detect it in each case; whereas, sometimes one monkey, and sometimes another, made the discovery. It is my belief, however, that their sense of smell is much more acute than that of man, but far less so than that of most other animals, especially the dog. [Sidenote: HEARING VERY DELICATE] The sense of hearing in these animals is very delicate, as may be seen from the account of Nellie discovering my footsteps on the lower stairway, and as I have witnessed in scores of other cases. The same is true also of their sight; their eyes are like a photo-camera, nothing ever escapes them. I think their organs of taste are also quite sensitive, as I have made some tests from time to time, and find them very hard to deceive. The sense of touch, which is rather obtuse in most animals, is much more acute in these. I have frequently interlaced my fingers with those of some person whom they dislike, and extending the hand towards them, they rarely make a mistake by getting hold of the wrong finger, and yet it has frequently occurred that they could not see the hands at all, and had to depend alone upon the sense of touch. In cases where the hands were very nearly the same size they were not able to select the fingers so readily, but where a lady's hand was used, or that of a boy, the selection was made without hesitancy and without error. I have tried this experiment a great many times with a view to ascertaining to some extent the delicacy of their sense of touch. Another fact that I may mention is, that they do not habitually smell articles of food or other things given to them; but they depend chiefly upon their sight for finding and their taste for choosing their food. My opinion is, that the sense of smell does not play an important part in these affairs. I may add, too, that, in the Cebus, his tail is perhaps the most sensitive organ of touch, although it is not used in this capacity to any great extent. He is generally very watchful over this useful member, because it serves him in so many ways, and I think perhaps it is safe to say that the tail is the last part of the monkey that ever becomes tame. CHAPTER XIII. The Extent of my Experiments--Apes and Baboons--Miscellaneous Records of Sound--The Vocal Index. In quest of the great secret of speech, I have pursued my investigations chiefly in the direction of learning one tongue, but incidentally I have made many detours, and I have recorded the sounds of many other forms of the animal kingdom, besides primates. I have examined the phonation of lions, tigers, leopards, cats, dogs, birds of many kinds, and the human voice in speech, music, and laughter. Besides these, I have examined various musical sounds, especially of the pipe and whistle kinds. More than a year ago I made some splendid records of the sounds of the two chimpanzees in the Cincinnati collection. I have not had the opportunity to study these apes themselves, as I desired to do, since they are kept so closely confined in a glass house, and for ever under the eye of their keeper, which conditions are not favourable to the best results. I am not prepared therefore to give much detail concerning their speech; but from a careful study of one cylinder containing a record of their sounds, I was able to discern as many as seven different phones, all of which come within the scope of the human vocal organs. I learned one of these sounds, and on a subsequent visit to Cincinnati I succeeded in attracting the attention of the female, and eliciting from her a response. She would come to the lattice door of the inner cage by which I was standing, and when I would utter the sound she would press her face against the door of the cage and answer it with a like sound. The male, however, did not appear to notice it with any degree of concern. I have no idea what the sound meant, and my opportunities have not been such that I could translate it with the remotest degree of certainty. [Sidenote: STUDIES IN TROPICAL AFRICA] These apes will be one of the chief objects of my studies in tropical Africa, as I believe them to possess a higher type of speech even than the gorilla. In this opinion, which I reached from the study of other sounds and the types of skull to which they belonged, I am not alone: Mr. Paul Du Chaillu, Mr. E. J. Glave, and others who have seen both of these apes in their native habitat, agree with me on this point. I am aware that this view is not in strict accord with that of Professor Huxley, who assigns the gorilla the highest place next to man in the order of Nature, and the chimpanzee next below him. I shall not here attempt to discuss the question with so high an authority, and I must confess that the vocal index is not yet so well defined that it may be relied upon in classifying apes. One aim I have in view is to study the gorilla and chimpanzee side by side in their native wilds, and to record, if possible, the sounds of their voices in a wild state. From the study of the sounds I have made, I feel confident that all the vocal sounds made by these apes may be uttered by the human vocal organs. Some months ago I made a record of the voice of the great Anubis baboon, in Philadelphia. I did not expect to find in him an elevated type of speech; but my purpose was to compare it with other Simian sounds, to see if I could not establish a series of steps in the quality of vocal sounds which would coincide with certain other characters. I had found by the study of certain cranial forms that certain vocal types conformed to certain skulls, and were as much a conformation thereof as are the cerebral hemispheres. I then believed, and have had no cause since to recede from it, that the vocal powers were correctly measured by the gnathic index; that the mind and voice were commensurate; and that as the cranio-facial angle widens the voice degrades in quality and scope. In man, I find the highest vocal type, and just as we descend in the cranial scale, the vocal type descends into sounds less flexible, less capable, and less musical. These deductions apply only to mammals; among birds, insects, &c., a different order may prevail. [Sidenote: RECORDS OF LIONS] The records of the lions show some strange features in the construction of sound; and when analysed on the phonograph present some novel effects. The sound as a whole appears to be broken into broad waves or pulsations; but on analysing it the fundamental tones somewhat resemble the sounds produced by drawing a mallet rapidly across the keyboard of a xylophone, and are characterised by a peculiar resonance something like the tremulous vibrations of a thin glass containing a small quantity of water. Each of these separate fundamental sounds, or sound units as they appear to be, can be further reduced to still smaller vibrations; and the result suggests that the fundamental sounds themselves are an aggregation of smaller vibrations. I have not as yet been able to compare the notes one by one with the scale of the xylophone in order to ascertain whether or not they obey the laws of sound upon which is founded the chromatic scale of music. The lion makes only a small number of different sounds, nearly of the same pitch. I have not analysed the vocal sounds of the other felines to ascertain to what extent they coincide with those of the lion; but his appear to be somewhat unlike any other sounds which I have examined. Among the few sounds of birds which I have analysed, I may mention the Trumpeter Crane. I have made one record of this bird which was sufficiently loud to enable me to obtain some idea of the character of the sound. I am in doubt as to what the real mode of producing this sound is. The volume of sound evidently comes from the mouth of the bird; but while in the act of making it, he appears to bring the whole body into use, even the feathers appear to take some part in its production, and the whole frame of the bird vibrates in the act. The record which I have shows some resemblance, on analysis, to the sound made by the lion; but it is not sufficiently strong to admit of analysing the sound units or fundamental sounds. [Sidenote: DIFFERENCE IN PHONES OF GENERA] From the many sounds that I have analysed, it appears to me that there is a difference in the phones of all different genera, and that the phonetic basis of human speech more closely resembles that of the Simian than any other sounds; but I wish to be understood distinctly not to offer this in evidence to establish any physical, mental, or phonetic affinity between mankind and Simians. I merely state the facts from which all theorists may deduce their own conclusions. CHAPTER XIV. Monkeys and the Mirror--Some of their Antics--Baby Macaque and her Papa--Some other Monkeys. I have incidentally mentioned elsewhere the use of the mirror in some of my experiments, but I have not described in detail how it affected various monkeys. Of course, it does not always affect the same monkey in the same way at different times, nor does it affect all monkeys of the same species in exactly the same way, and therefore I cannot deduce a rule from my experiments by which the species can be determined by its conduct before the glass. [Sidenote: PUCK AND NELLIE WITH MIRROR] When Puck saw himself in the mirror he undoubtedly mistook the image for another monkey, to which he would talk more freely than he would to the sounds made by the phonograph. He would frequently caress the image, and show signs of friendship; at the same time he was very timid and retiring. Nellie would chatter to herself in the mirror, and seemed never to tire of looking at that beautiful monkey she saw there, and I do not think the propensity could be accounted for merely by her sex. I do not think she ever quite understood where that monkey was concealed, and the scores of times in a day that she would turn the glass around was evidence that she never fully despaired of finding it. I accidentally dropped a small mirror one day by the cage in which there was a green monkey. The glass was broken into many small pieces. Quick as thought, the green monkey thrust her arm through the bars, grabbed the largest piece, and got it into her cage before I was fully aware of what she was trying to do. The fragment was about an inch wide by an inch and a half long. She caught a glimpse of herself in the glass, and her conduct was more like that of a crazy monkey than anything I can compare it to. She peeped into the fragment of the mirror, which she seemed to regard as a hole in something which separated her from another monkey. She held it up over her head at arm's-length, laid it down on the floor, held it against the wall, and twisted herself into every pose to get a better peep at that mysterious monkey on the other side of something, she could not tell what. When the glass was reversed, she seemed much perplexed, and would sometimes jump high off the floor, and turn herself entirely around, as if to untangle the mystery. Then again she would discover the right side of the glass, and would go through these antics again. Several times while holding it against the wall she would put her eyes close up against the glass, just as she would to a knot-hole in the wall. I tried in vain for some time to get the glass away from her lest she might injure herself with it, but only succeeded after considerable labour and through the help of her keeper. [Sidenote: McGINTY'S DELIGHT WITH MIRROR] McGinty always tries to find the image behind the glass. He reaches his little black hand as far as he can around behind it, peeps over and under it, pecks on the glass with his fingers, kisses and caresses it, and grins at it with infinite delight. He often tries to turn the glass around to look on the back of it, and when he finds no monkey there he works his eyebrows as if perplexed, and utters a sound which reminds me of a child under similar circumstances saying "gone" when in play something is concealed from it to make the child believe it is lost. Then he will suddenly turn the glass around again, as if the thought had just occurred to him, and when he again discovers the image, he will laugh, chatter, peep and peck at the glass, as if to say "There it is, there it is!" But, like all other monkeys, he does not quite understand where that monkey conceals itself when he peeps over the glass. Mickie does not appear to enjoy the sight of himself in the glass. He always looks at it earnestly but doubtfully, and utters a low sound in a kind of undertone, frowns and scowls as though he regarded the new monkey as an intruder. He rarely talks to the image only with this low, muttering sound, and never tries to find it by reaching his hand behind the glass or making any other investigation. Mickie, however, has been very much petted, in consequence of which he is very selfish, just as children become under like treatment. Little Nemo always looked at himself in the glass in the most inquisitive and respectful manner, without ever winking an eye or betraying any sign of emotion, except that he would caress the image in the glass over and over again by pressing his lips to it in perfect silence. Indeed, his conduct would suggest to you that he regarded the image as a portrait of some dear departed one, which awoke the tender memories of the past and filled the heart too full for utterance. His sedate manners were very becoming. Dodo always appeared to be afraid of the image. She would merely take a peep and turn away. She would sometimes utter a single sound, but rarely touched her mouth to the glass, and never felt behind it for the other monkey. This, perhaps, was due to the fact that she was afraid of some of the other inmates of the cage, and I do not think that she desired the colony increased. Nigger always showed great interest in the mirror when left alone, but when the other monkeys would crowd around to peep into the glass he would always leave to avoid trouble with them. [Sidenote: "UNCLE REMUS," THE WHITE-FACE] "Uncle Remus," the white-face, always goes through a series of facial contortions with the gravity of a rural judge. He will look into the glass, and then at me, as if to say "Where did you get that monkey?" The little baby Macaque, who was born in Central Park, tries to engage the image in a romp, reaches for it in the glass, clucks, jumps playfully to her perch, and looks back to see if the image follows; then she will return to the glass, and try again to induce the little ghost to join her in her play. Again, she will spring to her perch, looking back, but does not understand why it will not join her. During all this, the baby's father, a sedate old Macaque, looks on with suspicion and a scowl, and on a few occasions has pulled the baby away from the glass, as if he knew that there was something wrong, and expressed his opinion in a low, ominous growl. He reminds me at times of some people whom I have seen that look very wise, and intimate by their conduct that they know something. Another little Macaque makes the most indescribable faces, and works her lips in that peculiar fashion which I have elsewhere described, but she does not utter one sound. She merely looks in silence, and never tries to find the monkey concealed behind the glass. [Sidenote: THE SPIDER MONKEY] The spider monkey is a study worthy of great minds. When shown her image in the glass, she takes her seat on the floor, crosses her legs, and fixes herself as if she expected to spend the day there. She will then look into the glass and utter a low sound, and begin to reach out her long arms in search of the other monkey. It is surprising to see how she will adjust her reach as you change positions with the glass. Of course, as you remove the mirror from her the image is removed accordingly, and she extends or contracts her reach to suit that distance. This is not, however, an evidence of her mathematical skill, since to her mind the image is doubtless a real thing, and she is governed by the same instinct or judgment in reaching for it as she would be if it were real. More than any other, the spider monkey seems to admire herself in the glass; notwithstanding she is about the homeliest of all the Simian tribes, yet she will sit for hours in almost perfect silence, and gaze upon her image. CHAPTER XV. Man and Ape--Their Physical Relations--Their Mental Relations--Evolution was the Means--Who was the Progenitor of the Ape?--The Scale of Life. If we could free our hands from the manacles of tradition and stand aloof from our prejudices, and look the stern facts in the face, we should be compelled to admit that between man and ape there is such a unity of design, structure and function, that we dare not in the light of reason deny to the ape that rank in Nature to which he is assigned by virtue of these facts. Physiologically, there is no hiatus between man and ape which may not be spanned by such evidence as would be admitted under the strictest rules of interpretation. We may briefly compare these two creatures in a broad and general way, so that the unscientific and casual reader may comprehend. [Sidenote: MAN AND APE] The skeleton of man is only the polished structure of which that of the ape is the rough model. The identity of the two, part by part, is as much the same as the light sulky is the outgrowth of the massive framework of the old-time cart. Whether man and ape are related by any ties of blood or not, it is evident that they were modelled on the same plan, provided with the same means, and designed for like purposes, whatever they may be. The organs of sensation and the functions which they discharge are the same in both, and the same external forces addressing themselves thereto produce the same results. I do not mean to say that the same organ in each is developed in the same degree as that in the other, for this is not the case even in different individuals of the same kind. In the muscular system of the one is found an exact duplicate of the other, except in such slight changes of model as will better adapt the parts to those conditions of life under which the animal having them may be placed, and through the whole physical structure of both we find that unity of part and purpose in structure and function, in bone, muscle, nerve, and brain. It has been shown beyond a reasonable doubt that the brain in the higher races of mankind has reached its present form through a series of changes which are constant and definite; and this organ in the lower types of man resembles more that of the ape than does the same organ in the higher types of man; and by a method of deduction, such as we use to determine the height of a tree or the width of a stream by the length of a shadow, we find that the fiducial lines which bound the planes in the perspective of man's cerebral growth, likewise embrace those of the ape. While it is a fact that the mind of man so far transcends that of the ape, it is also a fact that in reaching this condition it has passed through such planes as those now occupied by the ape. The physical changes of man's brain do not appear to keep pace with the growth of his mind. This may be a paradox, but the evidence upon which it rests is ample to sustain it. [Sidenote: MAN AND APE] I do not pretend to know whether man was evolved from ape, or ape from man; whether they are congenetic products of a common authorship, or the masterpieces of two rival authors; but I cannot see in what respect man's identity would be affected, whatever may be the case. If it be shown that man descended from the ape, it does not change the facts which have existed from the beginning, nor does it change the destiny to which he is assigned. If it can be shown that apes descended from man, it does not leave upon man the censure for this degeneracy. If man has risen from the low plane of brutehood which the ape now occupies, has scaled the barriers which now separate him from apes, and has climbed to the divine heights of mental and moral manhood, the ape deserves no praise for this. On the other hand, if apes have fallen from the state of man, have wandered so far from the gates of light, and are now wandering in the twilight of intellect and degradation, it is no reproach to man; and while I shall not sit in judgment in the cause, nor testify on either side, I am willing to accept whatever verdict may be founded on the real facts, and I shall not appeal therefrom. But I shall not allow my prejudice to conceal the truth, whenever it is shown to me. It is always acceptable to my mind, and, stripped of all sophistry and oblique conditions, it would appear the same to every mind. That evolution is the mode by which the world was peopled, there is little doubt, but there are many details yet unsettled as to the manner in which this was effected. I cannot regard the matter as proven beyond appeal that man has come from any antecedent type that was not man, nor yet do I deny that such may be the case; but I do deny that the broad chasm which separates man from other primates cannot be crossed on the bridge of speech; and while this does not prove their identity or common origin, it does show that Nature did not intend that either one should monopolise any gift which she had to bestow. It is as reasonable to believe that man has always occupied a sphere of life apart from that of apes, as to believe that apes have occupied a sphere of life apart from birds, except that the distance from centre to centre is greater between birds and apes than that distance between apes and man. So far as any fossil proofs contribute to our knowledge, we find no point at which the line is crossed in either case; and the earliest traces of man's physiological history find him distinctly man, and this history reaches back on meagre evidence many, many centuries before historic time. Among these earlier remains of man, we find no fossils of the Simian type to show that he existed at that time; but at a somewhat later period we find some remnants of the Simian type in deposits of Southern Europe; but they are of the smaller tribes, and have been assigned to the _Macacus_. We cannot trace the history of this genus from that to the present time to ascertain whether they were the progenitors of apes or not; but between this type and that of apes the hiatus is as broad as that which intervenes between the ape and man. That somewhere in the lapse of time all genera began, admits of no debate; and by inversion it is plain that all generic outlines must focus at the point from which they first diverged, and such an operation does not indicate that man and Simian have ever been more closely allied than they are at the present time; but the evidence is clear that man has been evolved from a lower plane than he now occupies. The inference may be safely applied to apes, as progress is the universal law of life. The question has been asked, "Who is the progenitor of man?" The solution of this problem has engaged the most profound minds of modern time. If it be said in reply that apes were the progenitors of man, the question then arises, "Who was the progenitor of the ape?" If it be said that man and ape had a common progenitor, a like question arises, and it becomes necessary to connect all types allied to each other as these two types are physically allied. If man is the climax of a great scheme in Nature by which one type is gradually transformed into another, we must descend the scale of life by crossing the chasm which lies between mankind and apes, another lying between the apes and monkeys, another between the monkeys and baboons, another between the baboons and lemurs, and yet another between the lemurs and the lemuroids, and thus from form to form like islands in the great sea of life. From man to infinity the question constantly recurs, and over each hiatus must be built a separate bridge. [Sidenote: DARWIN'S PROFOUND WORK] Darwin has given to the world the most profound and conscientious work, and from the chaos and confusion of human ignorance and bigotry has erected the most sublime monuments of thought and truth. It does not detract from his character and honesty, nor lessen the value of his labours, to admit that he may have been mistaken in some conclusions which he deduced from the great store of facts at his command. It is not the purpose of this work, however, to enter into a discussion of any theory aside from speech and its possible origin and growth, but all subjects pertaining to life, thought, and the modes of living and thinking, must contribute in some degree to a clear understanding of the subject in hand. [Sidenote: DARWIN'S SIN OF OMISSION] It has been a matter of surprise to me that so careful and observant a man as Mr. Darwin should have so nearly omitted the question of speech from a work of such ample scope, such minute detail, and such infinite care as characterises the "Descent of Man," and such like works. But science will cheerfully forgive an error, and pardon the sin of omission in one who has given to the world so much good. CHAPTER XVI. The Faculty of Thought--Emotion and Thought--Instinct and Reason--Monkeys Reason--Some Examples. The study of biology has revealed many facts which conspire to show that the incipient forms of animal and vegetable life are the same in those two great kingdoms; and parallel with this fact, I think it can be shown that the faculty of expression goes hand in hand with life. And why should not this be the case? From the standpoint of religion, I cannot see why the bounty of God should not be equal to such a gift, nor can I conceive of a more sublime act of universal justice than that all things endowed with thought, however feeble, should be endowed with the power of expressing it. From the standpoint of evolution, I cannot understand by what rule Nature would have worked to develop the emotions, sensations, and faculties alike in all these various forms, and make this one exception in the case of speech. It does not seem in keeping with her laws. From the standpoint of chance, I cannot see why such an accident might not have occurred at some other point in the scale of life, or why such anomalies are not more frequent. Man appears to be the only one. From any point of view we take, it does not seem consistent with other facts. All other primates think and feel, and live and die under like conditions and on like terms with man; then why should he alone possess the gift of speech? [Sidenote: FACULTY OF THOUGHT] I confess that such an inference is not evidence, however logical; but I have many facts to offer in proof that speech is not possessed by man alone. It is quite difficult to draw the line at any given point between the process of thought and those phenomena we call emotions. They merge into and blend with each other like the colours in light, and in like manner the faculty of speech, receding through the various modes of expression, is for ever lost in the haze and distance of desire. The faculty of reason blends into thought like the water of a bay blends into the open sea; there is nowhere a positive line dividing them. When we are in the midst of one we point to the other, and say, "There it is;" but we cannot say at what exact point we pass out of one into the other. [Sidenote: THE POWER OF REASONING] To reason is to think methodically and to judge from attending facts. When a monkey examines the situation and acts in accordance with the facts, doing a certain thing with the evident purpose of accomplishing a certain end, in what respect is this not reason? When a monkey remembers a thing which has passed and anticipates a thing which is to come; when he has learned a thing by experience which he avoids through memory and the apprehension of its recurrence, is it instinct that guides his conduct? When a monkey shows clearly by his actions that he is aware of the relation between cause and effect, and acts in accordance therewith, is it instinct or reason that guides him? If there be a point in the order of Nature where reason became an acquired faculty, it is somewhere far below the plane occupied by monkeys. Their power of reasoning is far inferior to that of man, but not more so than their power of thinking and expression; but a faculty does not lose its identity by reason of its feebleness. When the same causes under the same conditions prompt man and ape alike to do the same act in the same way, looking forward to the same results, I cannot understand why the motive of the one should be called reason, and that of the other called instinct. Scholars have tried so hard to keep the peace between theology and themselves, that they have explained things in accordance with accepted belief in order that they might not incur the charge of heresy. To this end they have reconciled the two extremes by ignoring the means, and making a distinction without a difference on which to found it. Whatever may be the intrinsic difference between reason and instinct, it is evident to my mind that the same motives actuate both man and ape in the same way, but not to the same extent. I am aware that many acts performed by Simians are meaningless to them and done without a well-defined motive. The strong physical resemblance between man and ape often causes one to attach more importance to the act than it really justifies. In many cases the same act performed by some other animal less like man would scarcely be noticed. To teach an ape or monkey to eat with knife, fork, cup and spoon, to use a napkin and chair, or such like feats, does not indicate to my mind a high order of reason; nor it is safe to judge the mental status of these creatures from such data. When he is placed under new conditions and committed to his own resources, we are then better able to judge by his conduct whether he is actuated by reason or not. [Sidenote: CONNECTING CAUSES AND EFFECTS] In any simple act where a monkey can see the cause connected with, and closely followed by, the effect, he is actuated by reason, and while he may not be able to explain to his own mind a remote or complex cause but simply accepts the fact, it does not make the act any less rational in a monkey than the same act would be in man where he fails to grasp the ultimate cause. The difference is that man is able to trace the connecting causes and effects through a longer series than a monkey can. Man assigns a more definite reason for his acts than a monkey can; but it is also true that one man may assign a more definite reason for his acts than another man can for his when prompted by the same motives to the same act. The processes, motives, acts and results are the same with man and ape; the degree to which they reason differs, but the kind of reason in both cases is the same. I shall here relate some instances in my experience and leave the reader to judge whether reason or instinct guided the acts of the monkeys as I shall detail them in the next few paragraphs. It will be remembered that these were new conditions under which the monkeys acted. I taught Nellie to drink milk from a bottle with a rubber nipple. While I would hold the bottle, it was easy for her to secure the milk; but when she undertook it alone, she utterly failed. The thing which puzzled her was how to get the milk to come up to her end of the bottle. She turned it in every way, and held it in every position that she could think of, but the milk always kept at the other end of the bottle. She would throw the bottle down in despair, and when she saw the milk flow to the end having the nipple, she would go back and pick it up, and try it again. Poor Nellie worried her little head over this, and again abandoned it in despair. While trying to solve the mystery, she discovered a new trick. While the bottle was partly inverted she caught hold of the nipple, and squeezed it. By this means she accidentally spurted the milk into the faces of some ladies who were watching her. This afforded her so much fun that she could scarcely be restrained, and while she remained with me she remembered this funny trick, and never failed to perform it when she was allowed to do so. It was no trouble for her to connect the immediate effect to the immediate cause. But she could not for a long time understand that the position of the bottle or the location of the milk in it had anything to do with the trick. In the course of time, however, she learned to hold the bottle so that she could drink the milk, and she also discovered that it had to be held in a certain position in order to play her amusing trick. Another instance was in the case of a little monkey, heretofore described by the name of Jennie. When you would throw a nut, just out of her reach, she would take a stick which had a nail in the end, and rake the nut to her. She never took the wrong end of the stick, and never placed the nail on the wrong side of the nut. Her master assured me that she had not been taught this, but had found the stick and applied it to this use. When she did not want any one to play with her or handle her, she would coil her chain up and sit down on it to keep any one from taking hold of it. It is not an uncommon thing for monkeys to discover the means by which their cage is kept fastened, and they have frequently been known to untie a knot in a rope or chain, and thus release themselves. I have known a monkey that learned to reach its hand through the meshes of the cage, and withdraw the pin which fastened the hasp and thus open the door and get out. The keeper substituted a small wire, which he twisted three or four times in order that it could not be released. The monkey realised that the wire performed the duties of the pin and prevented the door from opening. He also knew that the wire was twisted and that this was the reason he could not remove it. I have seen him put his hand through the meshes of the cage, catch the loose end of the wire and turn it as though he was turning a crank. He evidently knew that the twist in the wire was made by such a motion and his purpose was to untwist it, but so far as I know he never succeeded in doing so. I have frequently seen a monkey gather up his chain and measure his distance from where he stood to the point at which he expected to alight, with the skill and accuracy of an engineer. A gentleman of my acquaintance assured me recently that during his sojourn of two years in the Island of Sumatra, he had in his service a large orang. This ape did many chores about the place, and performed many simple duties as well as the other domestics did. On one occasion, this ape was induced to go aboard a steamer which lay in the harbour. The purpose was to kidnap him and carry him to Europe. Either through fear, instinct, reason, or some other cause, this ape jumped overboard and swam ashore, although he was naturally afraid of water. From that time on to the end of the gentleman's residence there, he assures me that whenever a steamer made its appearance in the harbour, the ape would take flight to the forest, where he would stay as long as the vessel remained in sight. He was seen from time to time, but could not be induced to return to the house until the vessel had departed. A few years ago, I saw on board the United States receiving ship _Franklin_, a bright little monkey which was kept chained in a temporary workshop built on the gun-deck. Her chain was just long enough to allow her to reach the stove. The day was pleasant outside, but in the shade a trifle chilly. The little monk descended from the sill on which she usually sat and carefully felt the top of the stove with her hands. Finding it slightly warm, although the fire had died out, she mounted the stove and laid the side of her head on the warm surface. She would turn first one cheek and then the other, and continued rubbing the stove with her hands. Not finding it warm enough, she jumped down on the floor, opened the stove door with her hand, and slammed it two or three times. She then picked up a stick of wood lying within reach, and tried to lift it to the stove. The stick was too heavy for her to handle, so she would lift up one end of it and drop it heavily on the floor with the evident purpose of attracting the attention of her master. Again she would open and slam the door, lift up the end of the stick and drop it, and utter a peculiar sound, showing in every possible way that she wanted a fire. She finally picked up a small stick and stuck the end of it into the ashes in the front of the stove. She knew that it was necessary to put the wood into the stove; she knew where to put it in, and, while she could not do it herself, she knew who could put it in. Her master told me that she would gather up the shavings from the floor when they came within her reach and pile them up by the stove. He also told me that he frequently gave her a lighted match when he had prepared the fuel for building a fire, and that she would touch the match to the shavings and start the fire. She never ventured to get on the stove without first examining it to ascertain how hot it was. Another feat which she performed was to try to remove some tar from the cup in which he gave her water and milk. The cup had been lined with tar as a sanitary measure to prevent consumption, and she was aware that the tar imparted an unpleasant taste and odour, hence she tried very hard to remove it from the cup. Was this instinct? CHAPTER XVII. Speech Defined--The True Nature of Speech--The Use of Speech--The Limitations of Speech. [Sidenote: SPEECH DEFINED] What is speech? I shall endeavour to define it in such terms as will relieve it of ambiguity, and deal with it as a known quantity in the problems of mental commerce. Speech is that form of materialised thought which is confined to oral sounds, when they are designed to convey a definite idea from mind to mind. It is, therefore, only one mode of expressing thought, and to come within the limits of speech, the sounds must be voluntary, have fixed values, and be intended to suggest to another mind a certain idea, or group of ideas, more or less complex. The idea is one factor, and sound the other, and the two conjointly constitute speech. The empty sounds alone, however modulated, having no integral value, cannot be speech, nor can the concept unexpressed be speech. Separately, the one would be noise, and the other would be thought; and they only become speech when the thought is expressed in oral sounds. Sounds which only express emotion are not speech, as emotion is not thought, although it is frequently attended by thought, and is a cause of which thought is the effect. Music expresses emotion by means of sounds, but they are not speech; and even though the sounds which express them may impart a like emotion to the hearer, they are not speech. The sounds which express crying, sighing, or laughter, may indeed be a faint suggestion of speech, since we infer from them the state of the mind attending the emotions which produce them, yet they are not truly speech. To be regarded as speech, the expression must be preceded by consciousness, and the desire to make known to another the sensation by which the expression is actuated. As the impulse can only come from within, it appears that emotion is one source from which thought is evolved, and speech is the natural issue of thought. Desire gives rise to a class of thoughts having reference to the sensations which produce them, and such thoughts find expression in such sounds as may suggest supplying the want. As the wants of man have increased with his changing modes of life and thought, his speech has drawn upon the resources of sound to meet those increased demands for expression. It appears only reasonable to me that thought must precede in point of time and order any expression of thought, for thought is the motive of expression, and the expression of thought in oral sounds is speech. [Sidenote: NATURE OF SPEECH] Speech is not an invention, and therefore is not symbolic in its radical nature. True, that much that is symbolic has been added to it, and its bounds have been widened as men have risen in the scale of civil life, until our higher types of modern speech have departed so far from the natural modes of speech and first forms of expression, that we can rarely trace a single word to its ultimate source. And viewing it as we do from our present standpoint, it appears to be purely symbolic; but if that be so, then we must deny the first law of progress, and assign the origin of this faculty to that class of phenomena known as miracles, which once explained by increasing the mystery what we could not understand, and served at the same time to conceal the exact magnitude of our ignorance; but as we added little by little to our stock of knowledge, such phenomena were brought within the realm of our understanding, and to-day our children are familiar with the causes of many simple effects which our forefathers dared not attempt to solve, but reverently ascribed to the immediate influence of Divinity. If speech in its ultimate nature is symbolic, what must have been the condition of man before its invention, and how did he arrive at the first term or sound of speech? He did not invent sound nor the means of making it. He did not invent thought, the thing which speech expresses, and it is no more reasonable to believe that he invented speech than to believe that he invented the faculties of sight and hearing, which are certainly the natural products of his organic nature and environments. So far as I can find through the whole range of animal life, all forms of land mammals possess vocal organs which are developed in a degree corresponding to the condition of the brain, and seem to be in every instance as capable of producing and controlling sounds as the brain is of thinking: in other words, the power of expression is in perfect keeping with the power of thinking. From my acquaintance with the animal kingdom, it is my firm belief that all mammals possess the faculty of speech in a degree commensurate with their experience and needs, and that domestic animals have a somewhat higher type of speech than their wild progenitors. Why are all forms of mammals endowed with vocal organs? Why should Nature bestow on them these organs if not designed for use? One or the other of two conclusions seems inevitable. As a law of evolution and progress, all organs are imparted to animals for use and not for ornament. It seems consistent with what we know of Nature, to suppose that the vocal organs of these lower forms are being developed to meet a new requirement in the animal economy, or having once discharged some function necessary to the being and comfort of the animal, they are now lapsing into disuse and becoming atrophied. If they are in the course of development, it argues that the creature which possesses them must possess a rudimentary speech which is developing at a like rate into a higher type of speech. If they are in a state of decay or atrophy, it argues that the animal must have been able to speak at some former period, and that now, in losing the power of speech it is gradually losing the organ. In either case, the organs themselves would be in a state of development in harmony with the condition of the speech of the animal. [Sidenote: LIMITATIONS OF SPEECH] The function which speech discharges is the communication of ideas, and its growth must depend upon the extent of those ideas; and in all conditions of life, and in all forms of the animal kingdom, the uses of speech are confined to, and limited by the desires, thoughts, and concepts of those using it. Its extent is commensurate with requirement. To believe that there was a time in the history of the human race when man could not speak, is to destroy his identity as man, and the romance of the _alalus_ could be justified from a scientific standpoint only as a compromise between the giants of science and superstition. Among the tribes of men whose modes of life are simple, whose wants are few, and whose knowledge is confined to their primitive condition, the number of words necessary to convey their thoughts is very limited. Among some savage races there are languages consisting of only a few hundred words at most, while as we rise in the scale of civil and domestic culture, languages become more copious and expressive as the wants become more numerous and the conditions of life more complex. As we descend from man to the lower animals, we find the types of speech degenerate just in proportion as we descend in the mental and moral plane, but it does not lose its identity as speech. Through the whole animal kingdom from man to protozoa, types of speech differ as do the physical types to which they belong. But as the same vital processes are found throughout the whole circle of life, so the same phonetic basis is found through the whole range of speech. CHAPTER XVIII. The Motives of Speech--Expression--The Beginning of Human Speech--The Present Condition of Speech. In vital economy, the search-light of science has found the protoplasm which from our present state of knowledge seems to be the first point of contact between elemental matter and the vital force. What secrets of biology remain unknown within the realm of life, only those who live in the future may ever know. In the first condition of vitalised matter we find the evidence of autonomy. Whatever may be the ultimate force which actuates this monad, the manifestations of its presence and the result of its energy are seen externally. Whatever may be the nature of that force which imparts motion to matter, the first impulse of the biod is to secure food or to associate itself with a unit of its own kind. This is perhaps the first act of volition within the sphere of life, the first expression of some internal want, and is the first faint suggestion of a consciousness, however feeble; and I may add with propriety, that it is my opinion that the vital and psychic forces operate in a manner not unlike the electric and chemical forces. They appear to polarise, and in this condition act on matter in harmony with that great law of Nature under which positive repels positive and attracts negative, and _vice versâ_. We shall not attempt to follow the tedious steps of progress from inanimate matter to man, but begin with those intermediate forms which are so far developed as to utter sounds and understand the sounds of others. We will deal only with tangible facts as we find them. From whatever source expression may arise, or at whatever point it may appear, it is prompted by desire or some kindred emotion, either positive or negative. [Sidenote: MODES OF EXPRESSION] At the point where we begin to discuss this question there are two distinct modes of expression, either one of which can be used without the other. But I may mention here a cogent fact, that in the lower forms of life the normal mode of expression is by signs with supplemental sounds. In the higher forms, expression is by sounds, and signs are supplemental. And from the lower to the higher forms this transition is in harmony with the development of physical types. It occurs to me that signs were the first form of expression, and that sounds were first used to call attention to the sign made; and by an association of ideas the sounds became a factor of expression, and were used to emphasise signs. As we ascend the scale of life, sounds become more abundant, and signs less significant, and in the middle types they appear to be of nearly equal value, while in the higher tribes of man sounds are the normal mode of expression, and signs or gestures are used to emphasise them; and thus we see that signs and sounds in the development of the faculty of expression have quite changed places. This is consistent with the observed facts within the limits of human speech. There are tribes of mankind whose language is scarcely intelligible among themselves unless accompanied by signs; and it is said of some of the African tribes that their gestures are more eloquent than their speech. It appears to me consistent to believe that speech appears in the animal organism simultaneously with the vocal organs, and that the desire of expression must have preceded this. [Sidenote: PRESENT CONDITION OF SPEECH] The condition of the vocal organs depends upon the type of speech which they are used to utter, and the speech depends upon the quality of thought it is intended to express. That type of speech used by the Caucasian race within the space of a few centuries has developed from a vocabulary limited to a few thousand words into the polished languages of modern Europe, comprising new types and tens of thousands of new words, until to-day our own language contains more than two hundred and twenty thousand words, very few of which, however, if any, are entirely new. The phonetic elements on which is built up this huge vocabulary do not very greatly exceed in number those found in the lowest types of human speech in the world. The total number of these sounds does not much exceed two score in the highest forms of human speech; and about half this number can be shown as the vocal products of some species of the lower animals. Some philologists claim that the blending of consonant and vowel sounds is the mark which distinguishes human speech from the sounds uttered by the lower animals. To show how poorly this gigantic superstructure of fossilised science is supported by the facts, I have developed such effects in the phonograph from a basis of sounds purely mechanical, and without the aid of any part of the vocal apparatus of man or animal. The sounds from which I have developed such results were neither vowel nor consonant as those sounds are defined, but simply prolonged musical notes. In another chapter will be found some of the experiments which I have performed with the phonograph in the investigation of sounds of various kinds. If I am allowed to think for myself at all, I am not ready to accept as final some of the dogmas on the theory of sound which have long been held and taught, and many of which remain orthodox for no other reason than that no one has denied them. I am not ready at this point to spring upon the world any new theory of sound, but I am quite ready to refuse to believe some of the tenets set forth in the creeds of philology. Heresy is the author of progress, and I confess myself a heretic on many of the current doctrines of the science of sounds. CHAPTER XIX. Language embraces Speech--Speech, Words, Grammar, and Rhetoric. A definition of the word speech as used in this particular work is given elsewhere, and by this definition the word is used only in that sense which limits it to the sphere of oral sounds. It is that form of language which addresses itself only to the ear. The sounds which constitute it may be supplemented by signs or gestures, but such signs are only adjuncts, and are not to be regarded as an integral part of speech in its true sense. Speech cannot be acquired by those forms of life which occupy the lowest horizons of the animal kingdom, and have no organs with which to produce sound. In the light of modern use and acceptation language, broadly interpreted, includes all modes and means of communication between mind and mind. It therefore includes speech as one form, while signs or gestures constitute another form. Writing in all its various modes is another form of language. It may be substituted for either speech or gestures, but it does not thereby become speech in a literal sense, but within itself it constitutes another form of language. There seems to be some vague and subtle method of communication found in certain spheres of life which is called telepathy. While it is a mere ghost of language, so to speak, it has an identity which cannot be denied. This may perhaps be called another form of language. [Sidenote: LANGUAGE EMBRACES SPEECH] By some eminent men of letters it is claimed that speech was invented, and therefore cannot be universally the same; and this is proven by the fact that different tribes of men have different tongues. They do not appear to realise, that to the first cardinal sounds of speech so much has been added age by age, by slow accretions, that the radex of speech is but a mere drop in the great ocean of sounds. The mobility of speech is such as to make it more susceptible to change than matter is; and yet we find that, by the laws of change, man has been evolved from a less complex state of matter, and that in these latter years he can only be identified as the descendant of his prototype by the most scrutinising care, and by picking up the dropped stitches in the great fabric of Nature. To illustrate the slow and imperceptible, yet never ceasing, never failing process of evolution, we may imagine a man picking up a single grain of sand at a certain point and carrying it a distance of a thousand feet, where he deposits it at another certain point; returning, takes a second grain of sand from the same place as he secured the first, and carries it to the point at which he deposited the first, and thus continues through his life. At his death his son succeeds him in the task, and continues through his life, and at the death of this man his son succeeds; and thus in turn each one succeeds the other through a million generations. Supposing the wind and rain left these grains of sand unmolested during this long lapse of time, it is evident that at the place from which the sand was taken there would be a hole, and where it was deposited there would be a hill. It is by such slight changes that Nature does her work; and thus it is that speech, as well as matter, has been transformed from what it was to what it is. The physical basis of life retains its identity through all those varied forms, from protozoa to the highest type; and so the phonetic basis of speech adheres through all the changing modes of thought and expression. Speech is the highest type of language and the most accurate mode of expression, and belongs only to the higher forms of the animal kingdom. It has passed through all inferior horizons coinciding with the mental, moral, and social planes through which man has passed in the course of his evolution. [Sidenote: SPEECH AND WORDS] Words are the factors of speech and the highest development of that faculty. A word may be composed of one or more sounds so articulated as to preclude any interval of time between the utterance of any two of them, as "tune," in which the sounds appear to overlap and blend into each other. A single word may signify more than a single thing, and sometimes will suggest to the mind a category or group of connected thoughts, as "eat" or "telegraph," and such is the value of many of our words. This is especially true of words which combine two roots; but such a combination is usually found only in the higher types of human speech. But in these higher types words bear such relations to each other that we cannot well convey a complete idea with a single word; and hence it is that in the modes of expression used by man, each separate statement consists of two or more words bearing certain relations to each other, and these are often qualified by other words of less importance. This redundancy is due to the higher and more complex modes of thought used by man; and it is on such a state of facts that we have founded that branch of science called grammar, which would be of little use among those forms which occupy the planes of life inferior to man, and it is found of little use among the lower tribes of man, where it does not exist in any written form. Grammar does not make language, but serves as a kind of anchor by which the dialects of human speech are somewhat unified and made more stable; and to this is due in some measure the fact that savage tongues and dialects are more susceptible to change in their structure, while the phonetic basis upon which they rest remains the same. [Sidenote: GRAMMAR AND RHETORIC] In the more refined tongues of human speech, we go beyond that code of laws called grammar and amplify them into rhetoric. This branch of the science of speech could find no place among the lower types, as the words are few from which they may select; and so exact and arbitrary is the meaning of each one, and so uniform the relations, that no great variety of expression can be made with such a limited vocabulary. Their eloquence is in their brevity of speech. But while the types of speech used by the lower primates occupy a plane so low in the scale, they are as truly speech as the vocal organs that produce the sounds are truly vocal organs. Life is life, in what form soever it is found. It is not less real in the mollusc than in the man. The same is true of emotion, of thought, of expression, and of speech. Life, emotion, thought, expression, and speech began in embryo, and have developed co-ordinately with all the faculties possessed by man. They are as dependent upon each other as matter is on force, and as inseparable as light from energy. Speech is the physical manifestation of which thought is the ultimate force; it is a spoke in the chariot-wheels of consciousness; it is the body of which thought is the soul. CHAPTER XX. Life and Consciousness--Consciousness and Emotion--Emotion and Thought--Thought and Expression--Expression and Speech--The Vocal Organs and Sound--Speech in City and Country--Music, Passions, and Taste--Life and Reason. At the beginning of life there is a consciousness which is not more feeble than is the life with which it is associated; and as that spark of life kindles into a flame, so that spark of consciousness kindles into the "ego," and nowhere can a line be drawn at which it may be said "here consciousness first intercepted life." But as the living form develops organs and members, through the agency of the vital force, whatever that may be, so consciousness develops into desires, emotion and thought. Where shall the line be drawn which separates these attributes? Standing in the centre, we look around and see the horizon touching the plain on every side, and this appears to us as a great circle, the centre of which is always occupied by the observer, and from our standpoint we imagine that everything between us and that horizon must be that distance from the centre; but as we move our point of view from place to place, we move the circle with us, and yet we cannot find the boundary line which marks this circle at any time. In a manner not unlike this we pass from centre to centre of the circles of life, and carry with us the circle, so that at no one point do we ever appear to be much closer to the horizon than we were at any other point. [Sidenote: LIFE AND CONSCIOUSNESS] The classification of genera and species is in a great degree arbitrary; but much less so than are these abstract characters of life and mind. There is nowhere a line at which emotion stops and thought begins; there is nowhere a line at which thought stops and expression begins; there is nowhere a line at which expression stops and speech begins. These blend into each other so that only by comparing the extremes can we discern a difference. The tenets of metaphysics have heretofore been made to harmonise with the tenets of theology, and hence it is that we have learned to follow the laws laid down by others and not to think for ourselves. It has been as much a heresy to gainsay the dogmas of science as those of religion until recently; and even now the tender-footed doctors guard their theories with a vigilance and jealousy worthy of the angel that guarded the gates of Eden. [Sidenote: CONSCIOUSNESS AND EMOTION] Why should it be thought strange that monkeys talk? They see, hear, love, hate, think, and act by the same means and to the same end as man does. They experience pain and pleasure, to express which they cry and laugh just as man does. If the voluntary sounds they make do not mean something, why may those creatures not as well be dumb? If they do mean something, why may we not determine what that meaning is? It is true that their language is quite meagre and suited only to a low plane of life, but it may be the cytula from which all human speech proceeds, or it may be the inferior fruit borne upon the same great tree of speech. The organs of sensation in these creatures are modelled by the same design as those of man, are adapted to the same uses, and discharge the same functions. Then why should the vocal powers alone be abnormal, except in a degree measured by the difference of place which they occupy in the scale of Nature? Social intercourse among men has been the chief means of developing human speech, and we find a true index to its condition in the social status of the different races of mankind; and by coming closer home, we find that even in different communities of the same race and within the limits of the same nation, a difference in the accuracy and volume of speech, which is measured by the difference of social culture. We find in rural districts, sparsely peopled and remote from the great centres of population, that speech is less polished and the number of words used greatly reduced in comparison to the same language used in the great cities and more populous communities, where, by reason of contact with each other and the constant use of speech, the vocal powers are much more developed and the command of language very much improved. This same law of development, inversely applied, would lead us in a direct line down through Nature, rank by rank, and we would find it a reliable unit of measure throughout the whole perspective of development. The faculties of music, taste, and reason are measured by a like unit. It is difficult to trace the musical powers of animals, since music does not contribute to the comfort or development of types and only affords pleasure to the intellectual being, and hence is only an accomplishment obeying no rule of normal growth. [Sidenote: THE FACULTY OF REASON] As the use of the natural sense of taste makes possible the choice of nourishment, and all forms of life are thus sustained, the natural taste becomes an important factor of their comfort, and upon this physical basis rests, perhaps, the whole superstructure of ethics. The first idea of ownership is doubtless found in the possession of food; and this right of property is protected by the unwritten laws of incipient life. The faculty of reason, which man has arrogated to himself, is only limited by that dim line which bounds the vital sphere and sheds its rays through all the kingdom of life, from that point where the vital spark first lights the monad, through all the labyrinths of change, to man in the full pride of his divinity, standing upon the threshold of the angelic state. It is not by the exercise of reason that water flows down hill, or that matter obeys the law of gravity; but in the exercise of autonomy, however feeble may be the motive, reason guides the act. The power of this faculty is measured by the development of others, and there is no point between the two extremes at which reason intercepts life. The degree in which all the powers of sense and faculty are developed determines the horizon of the thing which possesses them. The aggregation of powers to act constitutes life; and the aggregation of powers to guide the action constitutes reason. [Sidenote: ALL MAMMALS REASON] Leaving the realm of metaphysics and returning to the order of primates, to which we shall confine our present work, I shall resume by repeating that not only do primates have the faculty of speech, but the whole family of mammals have some form of speech which is in keeping with their conditions of life. In addition to this declaration, I assert that all mammals reason by the same means and to the same ends, but not to the same degree. The reason which controls the conduct of a man is just the same in kind as that which prompts the ape. The latter cannot carry the process to such a great extent, but _microsophic_ pedants have not shown in what respect the methods differ only in degree. That same faculty which guided man to tame the winds of commerce, taught the nautilus to lift its tentacles and embrace the passing breeze. Yet we are told that reason guides the man and instinct guides the nautilus. These are but two names for light; the one is dawn, the other noon, but both are light. I cannot see in what respect the light of a lamp differs from that of a bonfire except in volume; they are the products of the same forces in Nature, acting through the same media, and, becoming causes, produce the same effects. That psychic spark which dimly glows in the animal bursts into a blaze of effulgence in man. The one differs from the other just as a single ray of sunlight differs from the glaring light of noon. [Sidenote: EFFECTS OF ONE GREAT CAUSE] If man could disabuse his mind of that contempt for things below his plane of life, and hush the siren voice of self-conceit, his better senses might be touched by the eloquence of truth. But while the vassals of his empty pride control his mind, the plainest facts appeal to him in vain, and all the cogency of proof is lost. He is unwilling to forego that vain belief that he is Nature's idol, and that he is a duplicate of Deity. Held in check by the strong reins of theology and tradition, he has not dared to controvert those dogmas which bear the stamp of error on their face; he dares not turn away from the idols of his own conceit and read the rubrics written in the fossil rocks; he dares not take those proofs which none can counterfeit, and whose authority is not gainsaid; he dares not lay aside the yoke which galls the neck of patience, or breathe the air unblest by some mysterious rite performed in fear. By such restraints his ears are closed against those voices which appeal to him from without the temple gates of his belief. In what respect would man be less god-like if it be shown that monkeys talk? To elevate the humbler ranks could not degrade mankind. Whether man is the work of Deity or was evolved by laws of change from primal matter; whether he was made in one specific act or is the last amendment to a million prior types; whether he is the creature of design or accident, the authorship of his being and that of all the forms which roam the broad empire of life must be the same. We are all the effects of one Great Cause, whatever that may be, and that which gave to man the power of speech imparted it to apes; and I can see no reason why Nature should have drawn a line about this faculty, and made the rest a common heritage. CHAPTER XXI. Certain Marks which Characterise the Sounds of Monkeys as Speech--Sounds accompanied by Gestures--Certain Acts follow certain Sounds--They acquire new Sounds--Their Speech addressed to certain Individuals--Deliberation and Premeditation--They remember and anticipate Results--Thought and Reason. As a result of my experience with monkeys, I shall here sum up the chief points in which their speech is found to coincide with that of man, and note those features which distinctly characterise the sounds as a form of speech. [Sidenote: SOUNDS OF MONKEYS AS SPEECH] The sounds which monkeys make are voluntary, deliberate, and articulate. They are always addressed to some certain individual with the evident purpose of having them understood. The monkey indicates by his own acts and the manner of delivery that he is conscious of the meaning which he desires to convey through the medium of the sounds. They wait for and expect an answer, and if they do not receive one they frequently repeat the sounds. They usually look at the person addressed, and do not utter these sounds when alone or as a mere pastime, but only at such times as some one is present to hear them, either some person or another monkey. They understand the sounds made by other monkeys of their own kind, and usually respond to them with a like sound. They understand these sounds when imitated by a human being, by a whistle, a phonograph, or other mechanical devices, and this indicates that they are guided by the sounds alone, and not by any signs, gestures, or psychic influence. The same sound is interpreted to mean the same thing, and obeyed in the same manner by different monkeys of the same species. Different sounds are accompanied by different gestures, and produce different results under the same conditions. They make their sounds with the vocal organs, and modulate them with the teeth, tongue and lips, in the same manner that man controls his vocal sounds. The fundamental sounds appear to be pure vowels, but faint traces of consonants are found in many words, especially those of low pitch; and since I have been able to develop certain consonant sounds from a vowel basis, the conclusion forces itself upon me that the consonant elements of human speech are developed from a vowel basis. This opinion is further confirmed by the fact that the sounds produced by the types of the animal kingdom lower than the monkey, appear to be more like the sounds of pipe instruments; and as we rise in the scale, the vocal organs appear to become somewhat more complex, and capable of varying these sounds so as to give the effect of consonants, which very much extends the vocal scope. The present state of the speech of monkeys appears to have been reached by development from a lower form. [Sidenote: EACH RACE HAS ITS PECULIAR TONGUE] Each race or kind of monkey has its own peculiar tongue, slightly shaded into dialects, and the radical sounds do not appear to have the same meaning in different tongues. The phonetic character of their speech is equally as high as that of children in a like state of mental development; and seems to obey the same laws of phonetic growth, change, and decay as human speech. It appears to me that their speech is capable of communicating the ideas that they are capable of conceiving, and, measured by their mental, moral, and social status, is as well developed as the speech of man, measured by the same units. Strange monkeys of the same species seem to understand each other at sight, whereas two monkeys of different species do not understand each other until they have been together for some time. Each one learns to understand the speech of the other; but, as a rule, he does not try to speak it. When he deigns an answer, it is usually in his own tongue. The more fixed and pronounced the social and gregarious instincts are in any species, the higher the type of its speech. They often utter certain sounds under certain conditions in a whisper, which indicates they are conscious of the effect which will result from the use of speech. Monkeys reason from cause to effect, communicate to others the conclusion deduced therefrom, and act in accordance therewith. If their sounds convey a fixed idea on a given subject from one mind to another, what more does human speech accomplish? If one sound communicates that idea clearly, what more could volumes do? If their sounds discharge all the functions of speech, in what respect are they not speech? [Sidenote: CANNOT THINK WITHOUT WORDS] It is as reasonable to attribute meaning to their sounds as to attribute motives to their actions; and the fact that they ascribe a meaning to the sounds of human speech, would show that they are aware that ideas can be conveyed by sounds. If they can interpret certain sounds of human speech, they can ascribe a meaning to their own. They think, and speech is but the natural exponent of thought; it is the audible expression of thought, and signs are the visible expression of the same; born of the same cause, acts to the same end, and discharges the same functions in the economy of life. To reason is to think methodically; and if it be true that man cannot think without words, the same must be true of monkeys. I do not mean, however, to claim that such is a fact with regard to man thinking; but if such can be shown to be a fact, it will decide the question as to the invention of human speech, as it was necessary for man to think in order to invent; and, by the same rule, he could not think a word which did not exist, and therefore could not have invented it. But I beg to be allowed to stand aside and let Prof. Max Müller and Prof. Whitney, the great giants of comparative philology, settle this question between themselves; and I shall abide by the verdict which may be finally reached. But theories are useless things when the facts are known; and since I have actually learned from a monkey a certain sound having a certain value and meaning a certain thing, and by repeating that sound to a monkey of the same species have met with uniform results, have understood him, and been understood by him, no argument could be so potent as to cause me to believe that this was accident. I am aware that coincidents occur; but when they become the rule instead of the exception, they are no longer mere coincidents, but are the normal state of things. [Sidenote: THOUGHT AND REASON] In conclusion, I would say that since the sounds uttered by monkeys perform all that speech performs, is made of the same material, produced by the same means, acts to the same ends, and through the same media, it is as near an approach to speech as the mental operations by which it is produced are an approach to thought. If it can be shown that these mental feats are not thought, the same process of reasoning could show that these sounds are not speech. If man derived his other faculties from such an ancestry, may not his speech have been acquired from such a source? If the prototype of man has survived through all the vicissitudes of time, may not his speech likewise have survived? If the races of mankind are the progeny of the Simian stock, may not their languages be the progeny of the Simian tongue? CHAPTER XXII. The Phonograph as an aid to Science--Vowels the basis of Phonation--Consonants developed from a Vowel basis--Vowels are Compound--The Analysis of Vowels by the Phonograph--Current Theories of Sound--Augmentation of Sounds--Sound Waves and Sound Units--Consonants among the Lower Races. The application of the phonograph to my special work is really the discovery of a new field of usefulness for that wonderful instrument, which, up to this time, has held the place of a toy more than that of a scientific apparatus of the very highest importance in the study of acoustics and philology. In many ways the use of this machine is so hampered by the avarice of men as to lessen its value as an aid to scientific research, and the Letters Patent under which it is protected preclude all competition and prevent improvements. However, I have been able, even with the poor machines in general use, to discover some of the most important facts upon which are based the laws of phonation. I shall here attempt to give in detail but a few of these experiments, as they are yet crude, and in some cases the deductions therefrom not positively certain. [Sidenote: VOICES OF MEN AND MONKEYS] From the various records that I have made of the voices of men and monkeys, I am prepared to say that the difference is not so great as is commonly supposed, and that I have converted each one into the other. I would not be understood to say that I have done this with all their sounds, nor that the monkey's sounds were converted into human speech, but the fundamental sounds of each were changed into those of the other. I find that human laughter coincides in nearly every point with that of monkeys. They differ in volume and pitch. By the aid of the phonograph I have been able to analyse the vowel sounds of human speech, which I find to be compound, and some of them contain as many as three distinct syllables of unlike sounds. From the vowel basis I have succeeded in developing certain consonant elements, both initial and final, from which I have deduced the belief that the most complex sounds of consonants are developed from the simple vowel basis, somewhat like chemical compounds result from the union of simple elements. Without describing in detail the results, I shall mention some simple experiments which have given me some very strange phenomena. I dictate to the phonograph a vowel in different keys while the cylinder rotates at a given rate of speed. I then adjust the speed to a certain higher or lower rate and follow the results. By reversing the motion of the cylinder the sounds are reduced to their fundamental state. By this means we eliminate all familiar intonation, and disassociate it from any meaning which will sway the mind, and in this way it can be studied to advantage. [Sidenote: THE SOUND WAVES] At a given rate of speed I have taken the record of certain sounds made by a monkey, and by reducing the rate of speed from two hundred revolutions per minute to forty, it can be seen that I increased the intervals between what is called the sound waves and magnified the wave itself fivefold, at the same time reducing the pitch in like degree, and by this means I could detect the slightest shades of modulation. I may remind you here that in this process all parts of the sound are magnified alike in all directions, so that instead of obtaining five times the length, as it were, of the sound unit or interval, we obtain the cube of five times the normal length of every unit of the sound. The slightest variation of tension in the vocal chords may be detected, and every part of the sound compared to every other part. Having thus augmented the quantity of sound, by increasing alike the sound unit and interval, it can be recorded on another cylinder and multiplied again as long as the vibrations can produce sound. From the constant relation of parts and their uniform augmentations under this treatment, it has suggested to my mind the idea that all sounds have definite geometrical outlines, and as we change the magnitude without changing the form of the sound, I shall describe this constancy of form by the term contour. In a few instances I have been able, by reducing the record of certain sounds from a high pitch to a lower one, to imitate the sound thus reduced with my own vocal organs, then by restoring this record of my voice to its normal speed have obtained almost a perfect imitation of the sound. This effect, however, does not always follow, and in many instances my best imitations have not developed the original at all. But this presents a new problem in acoustics. I must here take occasion to say that the difference of pitch, quality, &c., in sounds does not appear to me to depend alone upon the length of the sound unit, but there seems to be a difference of ultimate form and mode of propagation which have much to do with the contour of the developed sound. [Sidenote: THE SOUND FORCE] By _mode of propagation_ I mean the organs brought into use for the purpose of producing the sound, the apertures through which the sound force passes, and the auxiliaries by which it is moulded into certain shapes. By _ultimate form_ I mean the geometrical shape of the sound force when first converted into sound. That there is such a thing as form has been clearly demonstrated by the phoneidoscope. Prof. John B. De Mott has very kindly aided me in reducing certain sounds to a visible condition. I had conceived an idea before this that if the path described by the energy which produced sound could be made visible, that it would be found to have the form of a convolute spiral, that these spirals recede from the centre or point of propagation in every direction like the radii of a sphere, and that that aspect of sound which we call waves, is simply the point at which these spirals intercept each other, which of necessity would be of uniform distance from the centre, increasing at each successive point throughout the entire sound-sphere or space through which the sound passes in all directions from the centre to infinity. I shall refrain from discussing this point till such a time as I can show at greater length my reasons for this belief. I may add here that I have made records of the human voice with which I have deceived the monkeys, and I have made records of the monkey's voice with which I have deceived the very elect of linguists and musicians. Some critic once remarked to me that the sound made by a monkey was not really laughter, but only a kind of good-natured growling. This may be correct, but the same is true of human laughter, as the one may be converted into the other, and a good-natured growl expresses the emotion which is felt by man as well as monkey. The phonograph shows that they are identical in sound and form, besides the fact that they are the outburst of the same passion, actuated by the same cause and executed by the same muscles, so that their identity, mentally, physically, and mechanically, is the same. [Sidenote: VOWEL SOUNDS] Among the sounds of the Simian voice I have not found the English vowels "a," "i," or "o," except, perhaps, "i" short as sounded in the word "it." The vowel "u," as sounded like "oo" in "shoot," seems to be the chief sound of their speech. One important point which I discovered from the phonograph is, that sounds or tones which are purely musical are reproduced alike with the cylinder turning either way, while all speech sounds are slightly changed when the cylinder is reversed, which shows the sounds to be compound. I find that "w" may be developed from any consonant by manipulating the cylinder of the phonograph, and it is a fact also that the initial consonant imparted to any vowel does not continue through the vowel. This I have shown by making a vowel sound which I prolong for some seconds with the cylinder revolving at a given rate of speed. While reproducing this at a normal speed I intercepted at any point, and developed the sound "w" as heard in "woe." The instant I have blended this into the vowel, I lift the diaphragm until the normal speed is restored, when I replace the reproducing tooth showing the sound without the consonant. In like manner I dictate to the phonograph any vowel sound preceded by a consonant. The consonant I utter in a natural way, the vowel I prolong for some seconds, and in the act of reproducing this I cut the sound in two and find the vowel element is not modified by the consonant which preceded it, hence, I observe that the consonant merely suggests to the mind a certain form of sound which does not change the fundamental vowel. In fact, it aids the voice somewhat in uttering the vowel. If human speech were composed of none but vowel sounds the human voice could scarcely utter them in a continued conversation; their monotony would not so much offend the ear as it would try the vocal powers, and man would soon acquire consonants to aid the voice if for no other use. [Sidenote: DOUBLE AND TREBLE CONSONANTS] Among the Simians the better types of speech show this tendency, and in the lower types of human speech we find all the vowel elements, while consonants are not by any means so numerous. Another fact is this, among the lower races of mankind double consonants are rare, and treble more so. Of course their tongues consist of fewer words, as has been shown before, which paucity arises from their few wants and simple modes of life, and hence the scope of vocal growth is much contracted. Beginning with the lowest tribes of men, we find the consonants increase in number and complexity as we ascend the scale of speech. To this, perhaps, is due the fact that the Negroes now found in the United States after a sojourn of two hundred years with the white race on this continent are unable to utter the sounds of "th" "thr," and other double consonants. The former of these they pronounce "d" if breathing, and "t" if aspirate. The latter they pronounce like "trw" or "tww." The sound of "v" they usually pronounce "b," while "r" resembles "w" or "rw" when initial, but as a final sound is usually suppressed. They have a marked tendency to omit auxiliary and final sounds, and in all departures from the higher types of speech tend back to ancestral forms. I believe if we could apply the rule of perspectives and throw our vanishing point far back beyond the chasm that separates man from his Simian prototype, that we would find one unbroken outline tangent to every circle of life from man to protozoa in language, mind, and matter. CHAPTER XXIII. The Human Voice--Human Bagpipe--Human Piccolo, Flute, and Fife--The Voice as a Whistle--Music and Noise--Dr. Bell and his "Visible Speech." One of the very curious feats which I have performed with the phonograph is the conversion of the human voice into the sounds of various instruments. I had my wife sing the familiar Scotch ballad, "Comin' through the Rye," to the phonograph while the cylinder was rotating at the rate of about forty revolutions per minute. Each word in the song was distinctly pronounced and the music rendered in a plain, smooth tone. I then increased the speed of the machine to about one hundred and twenty per minute, at which rate I reproduced the song. It was a very perfect imitation of the bagpipe with no sign whatever of articulation. The melody was preserved with only a change of time. The speech character was so completely destroyed that I repeated this record to a large audience in which were several eminent musicians, not one of whom suspected that it was not a real bagpipe solo. In like manner I have converted the sounds of the voice into a very perfect piccolo, flute, fife, and into a fairly good imitation of a whistle sound. To produce the whistling effect and the fife sound the rate of speed must be necessarily very high, and some notes will not be perfectly converted for some reason which I have not yet fully understood. Some voices are much more easily converted into the flute effect than others. To get the best flute sounds, a full, smooth, mezzo-soprano gives the best effect. In reversing the operation, the sounds of these instruments can be made to imitate the human voice somewhat, but not exactly, not only in the fact that the modulation is wanting and there is no semblance to consonant sounds, but the tone itself differs in quality from that of the voice. [Sidenote: CONTOUR OF SOUNDS] Among other respects in which the vocal sounds of man and Simian resemble is in the contour of the sounds, which I have defined elsewhere. I have called attention to the fact that by reversing the cylinder of the phonograph and repeating the sound recorded thereon that a musical note or sound would repeat alike each way. Most of the sounds made by other animals do this, but those made by man and Simian alike show modulation, not, however, equally distinct. The notes of birds repeat alike both ways except their order is reversed. Again, to magnify the sounds as I have shown it can be done, allows you to inspect them, as it were, under the microscope, and this examination shows the contour of the sounds of these two genera to resemble. Dr. Alexander Melville Bell has shown, in his work on "Visible Speech," that the organs brought into use in the production and modification of sounds must work in harmony with each other; hence it is that by a study of the external forms of the mouth the movements of all the organs used in making any sound can be determined with such certainty that deaf-mutes can be, and have been, successfully taught to distinguish these sounds by the eye alone. And it was by such a method that I set out to read the temple inscriptions from the ruins of Palenque, some years ago, at which time I had not heard of Dr. Bell's learned and excellent work. The main feature of those glyphs, by which I was guided, was the outline of the mouth, which the artist had sought to preserve and emphasise at the cost of every other feature, and by this process I found to my satisfaction some ten or twelve sounds or phonetic elements of the speech used by these people; but not knowing the meaning of the sounds in that lost tongue, I did not attempt to verify them, but when I find the time to devote to them I believe I can accomplish that. [Sidenote: TRIP TO AFRICA] It is a part of my purpose, in my trip to Africa, to try to secure photographs of the mouths of the great apes while they are in the act of talking, and to this end I am having constructed an electric trigger, with which to operate my photo-camera at long range, and I shall try to furnish to the eminent author of "Visible Speech" some new and novel subjects for study. CHAPTER XXIV. Some Curious Facts in Vocal Growth--Children and Consonants--Single, Double, and Treble Consonants--Sounds of Birds--Fishes and their Language--Insects and their Language. [Sidenote: SOUNDS UTTERED BY CHILDREN] I shall take occasion here to mention some curious experiments, which have suggested themselves to me in my work with the phonograph. For lack of time and opportunity, I have not carried them far enough to give exact and final results; but it has occurred to me that philology may be aided by taking a record of the sounds made by a number of children daily through a period of two or three years from birth. The few experiments which I have tried in this particular line are sufficient to show that the growth of speech obeys certain laws in the development of vocal power. It is apparent to me that the first sounds uttered by children have no consonants, and that certain consonants always appear in a regular succession and always single. The double consonants develop later, and the triple consonants appear to be the last acquirement. I have not the space to go to great length on this subject, and my experiments have not been sufficient to enable me to formulate with certainty any set of rules by which the development of this faculty is uniformly governed. It is my purpose, on my return from Africa, to set on foot a series of such experiments, with the hope of ascertaining the facts connected therewith. And while in Africa I shall aim to make such records of the natives as to ascertain whether their speech conforms to the same laws of development or not. It is my earnest hope to be able to do the same thing with the great apes which I am going chiefly to study. I think if I can record on a phonograph cylinder the sounds uttered by a young chimpanzee under certain conditions once each day for a year or so, I can determine whether there is a like growth in their speech, and to what extent the same laws control it. I have already observed that the quality of voice in a given species of monkey changes with his age very much in the same manner as the human voice; but I have not been able to follow the changes through one individual specimen by which to ascertain the exact manner of such change. [Sidenote: SOUNDS OF BIRDS] The sounds of birds have been studied perhaps more than any others except those of man, but they have not been studied as speech, nor to ascertain their meanings. Their musical character has attracted attention and been the subject of some discussion. My opinion is that much that has been said on that subject belongs more properly to the realm of poetry than of science. I think the sounds of birds are chiefly intended for speech, but it may supply the place of music in their æsthetic being; but, so far as I have observed, I confess that I cannot find that they obey the laws of harmony, melody, or time, and it is my opinion that most of the efforts to write the sounds of birds on a musical staff are not to be relied upon as accurate records of the sounds. There is no doubt that each sound uttered by a bird is in unison with some note in the chromatic scale of music, but the intervals between the tones of the same bird do not coincide with those of the human voice. It is quite evident that birds possess an acute sense and ready faculty for music, and many of them show great aptitude in imitating the sounds of musical instruments; some varieties of birds, such as the southern mocking-bird, the thrush, and others, imitate with great success the sounds of other birds. They often do this so perfectly as to deceive the species to which the sounds belong. The songs of birds, as they are called, appear to afford them great pleasure, and they often indulge in them, I think, as a pastime; the effect is pleasing to the ear because of its cheerfulness, and it is not discordant or wanting in richness of tone in most birds. From the little study I have given them I think it safe to say that the range of sounds possessed by any one bird is quite limited and their notes are strictly monophones. This last remark does not apply to the sounds made by parrots and birds of that kind. The parrot is perhaps possessed of the greatest vocal power of any other bird. He imitates almost the entire range of sounds that are uttered by all other birds combined, and can also imitate the sounds of human speech from the highest to the lowest pitch of the human voice. In addition to all this, he imitates many noises, such as the sounds of sawing wood, the slam of a door, and the whistling of the wind. The vocal range of the parrot is perhaps the most marvellous of all the vocal products of the animal kingdom. One strange thing, however, that I observe among them is, that the range of sounds that they use among themselves is very small. I have made some records of parrots, macaws, cockatoos, &c., and I find their natural vocal sounds usually wanting in quality: most of their sounds are hoarse and guttural. Among the gallinaceous birds there does not appear to be much music. There is a great sameness of sounds in the different species, and they seem to be confined to the economic use of speech. In my early life I devoted much time to gunning, and I observed then, and called attention to the fact, that when a covey of birds became scattered I could tell at what point they would huddle. I could tell this by the call of one bird and the reply of the others. The call-bird, which was always the leader of the covey, would sound his call from a certain point near which the other birds would usually assemble, and during this time they would answer him from various other points. The sound used by the call-bird is unlike that used by the rest of the flock, but the sounds with which they reply to him are all alike, and by observing this I could always find the covey again by allowing them time to come together, especially if it was late in the afternoon. Mr. Wood, of Washington, D.C., has given such attention to the sounds of birds that he can interpret and imitate nearly all the sounds made by domestic birds, and many of those made by wild birds. He has twice confused and arrested the flight of an army of crows by imitating the calls of their leader. His feats have been witnessed with astonishment by many men of science. [Sidenote: SOUNDS OF FISHES] Among fishes I have found but few sounds, and most of these I have never heard except when the fish was taken out of the water. The carp and high-fin, however, I have frequently heard while in the water. It has occurred to me that the sound is not the medium of communication, but it is the result of an action by which they do communicate even when the sound is not audible. I have observed while holding the fish in my hand when he makes this sound that it produces a jarring sensation which is very perceptible. It is quite possible that in his natural element these powerful vibrations are imparted to the surrounding water, and through it communicated to another fish, who feels it in his sensitive body instead of hearing it as sound. It may be accompanied by the sound merely resulting from the force applied, but not in itself constituting any part of the means of communication. It is not unlike what we call sound, in the fact that it is generated in the same way, transmitted in the same way, and received in the same way as sound. When I have time and opportunity I shall carry my studies of the language of fishes much farther. Their means of communication are very contracted, but it is superfluous for me to say that they have such means. Many observations have already been made on the language of insects, and much diversity of opinion prevails. Very little has been said about the details of their intercourse, but the consensus of opinion is that they must in some way communicate among themselves. To me they seem to live within a world of their own, as other classes of the animal kingdom do. The means of communication used by mammals could not be available among aquatic forms, any more than could their modes of locomotion. Each different class of the animal kingdom is endowed with such characters and faculties as best adapt them to the sphere in which they live; and the mode of communication best fitted to the conditions of insect life would be as little suited to mammals, perhaps, as the feathers of a bird would be for locomotion in the realm of fishes. [Sidenote: LANGUAGE OF INSECTS] I am aware that some high authorities have claimed that insects communicate by sounds. My own opinion is that they employ a system of grating or scratching by means of their stigmata, but that the sound created thus performs no function in the act of communicating, but is only a bi-product, so to speak, and that the jarring sensation transmitted through the air is the real means by which they understand each other, possibly somewhat like telegraphy, in which the sounds are not modulated, but are distinguished by their duration and the interval between them. I do not announce this as conclusive, but merely suggest it as a possible key to their mode of intercourse. [Sidenote: A COLONY OF ANTS] I have observed that signs prevail to a great extent among ants. Some years ago I had an opportunity of studying a colony of ants, and I watched them almost daily for several weeks. I had seen it stated that they found their way by the sense of smell, but these observations confirmed my doubts on that point, and I feel justified in saying that they are guided almost, if not entirely, by landmarks. On the bark of a tree from which they were gathering in their winter stores, I observed that there were certain little knots or protuberances by which they directed their course and which they always passed in a certain order. Between these landmarks they did not confine themselves to any exact path, but the concourse would sometimes widen out over the space of more than an inch, but as they approached a landmark every ant fell into line and went in the exact path of the others, which rarely exceeded in any case more than an eighth of an inch in width. Whenever an ant would lose its way it would lift its head high into the air, look around, and then turn almost at right angles from the course it was pursuing towards the path of the others. In scores of cases I observed that the outward-bound ant, when it had been lost and returned to the path, always came on the homeward side of the landmark and passed out. On the other hand, if a homeward-bound ant was lost it would approach from the outward side of the landmark and pass in. About five feet from the ground were two small, round knots, about one-eighth of an inch in height, and a space between them of about the same width. This appeared to be one of their most conspicuous and reliable landmarks, and every ant that I saw pass in or out during the lapse of weeks passed between these two points. The burdened ant always appeared to have the right of way, and when meeting another without a burden there was no question of this right. In such a case the burden was usually held aloft, and the right of way conceded without debate. A little later in the season I had the opportunity of seeing the same colony emigrate to a point about eighty feet distant from their original abode, at which time they carried large burdens and were many days in completing their work, but the same system and methods prevailed. As far as desire can be found in life the means of expression go hand in hand with it, but I do not contend that desire alone is the origin of this faculty. So far as human ears can ascertain, the lowest forms of life appeared to dwell in perpetual silence, but there may be voices yet unheard, more eloquent than we have ever dreamed of. CHAPTER XXV. Facts and Fancies of Speech--Language in the Vegetable Kingdom--Language in the Mineral Kingdom. In the early part of this work I have recorded the material and tangible facts with which I have dealt, and have not departed from such facts to formulate a theory beyond a working hypothesis. I have not allowed myself to be transported into the realm of fancy, nor have I claimed for my work anything which lies beyond the bounds of proof. But in the wide range through which I have sought for the first hint of speech, it is only natural that many theories have suggested themselves to me from time to time, some of which would appear almost like the dreams of hasheesh. But while they are like the fairyland of speculation, they are not more wild and incoherent than are many of the dogmas of metaphysics. And at this point I shall digress from my text so far as to say that I have followed the motives of language through the higher planes of life and thence downward to the very sunrise to the vegetable kingdom, and on through the dim twilight across the mineral world to that point where elemental matter is first delivered from the hands of force. Standing upon the elevated plane of human development, it is difficult for man to stoop to the level of those inferior forms from which he is so far removed in all his faculties; but if his senses could be made so delicate as to discern the facts, he would find perhaps that in the polity of life all horizons are equidistant from each other. But looking back from where he stands, his powers fail to reach the real point of vital force at which all life began, and his contracted senses bring the vanishing point of this perspective far into the foreground of the facts. From the highest type of human speech to the feeblest hint of expression there is a gradual descent, and at no point between these two extremes can there be drawn a line at which it may be said "here one begins, and here another ends." The same is true of other faculties; and from the vital centre at which matter first receives the touch of life to the circumference of the vital sphere, all powers radiate alike, and there is no point that I can find between that centre and infinity at which some new endowment intercepts the line. Descending the scale of life by long strides, from man to the lowest form of zooids, we cannot designate the point at which a faculty is first imparted to the form which has it, and this truth extends throughout the vital cosmos. [Sidenote: LANGUAGE IN THE VEGETABLE KINGDOM] The line of demarcation which separates the animal and vegetable is but a wavering, blended mezzotint, and the highest forms of vegetable life seem to overlap the lowest forms of animal, so far that no dividing line is positively fixed. The highest types of vegetable seem to have the faculty of expression in a degree corresponding to, and in harmony with, the rest of their organism. I do not mean to say that the impulse under which a plant acts is synonymously with that which prompts the animal, but both appear to be the effect of the same cause. In some forms of vegetation the selection of food of certain kinds and the aversion to other certain kinds, would indicate that the organism is capable of design and purpose in a degree perhaps much higher than some of the lowest forms of the animal kingdom. The reaching out of roots in search of food in the earth, the opening and closing of leaf and bloom, seeking the moisture and carbon from the atmosphere, suggest a feeble expression of desire. The choice of food is so well defined in some plants as to indicate a power of selection far greater than some protozoans exercise. It is a known fact that a change of food and conditions often modify a plant in such degree as to make it difficult to recognise except by the technical laws of classification, and yet its identity is not lost. Such changes do not effect all plants in the same degree, as some of them will undergo a change of diet or conditions without material effect. In many instances a marked dislike to certain kinds of food has been observed, and the sensitiveness of some plants is shown in the foliage, bloom, and even in the roots. [Sidenote: LANGUAGE OF THE MINERAL KINGDOM] In passing from the vegetable to the mineral kingdom, we find a like diffusion of types overlapping and blending into each other. Some forms of vegetation are so low in the scale of organism as to make it difficult to say whether they are vegetable or mineral compounds. Of course we find no trace of speech, but there is that hint of expression or suggestion of desire as found in the vegetable kingdom. In the chemical world one element will select another with which it will combine, while to other elements it shows a great aversion. When one chemical element selects another and combines with it we call this chemical affinity. The ultimate force which causes this affinity is one of the unknown facts concerning matter; but it is possible that such affinities and aversions constitute the basis upon which rests the selections and aversions of plants and animals. But as we rise in the scale the combinations of matter become more complex and the functions of each part more specific. It is possible, when we become more familiar with the forces of Nature, that we shall find that affinity and repulsion are but the positive and negative poles of the forces which act on matter; that chemical, vegetable and animal activity are based upon the same fundamental causes, and that speech, which is only one form of expression, is the highest product of such an ultimate force, but in all conditions of matter, such forces, either positive or negative, are the ultimate motives of expression. [Sidenote: VITALISATION OF MATTER] As chemical formulas differ from each other without losing the identity of their elements which constitute them, so animal organisms and plant forms differ as the spheres of life to which they are assigned differ. It is possible that chemical affinity may be the germ from which all language springs, as the chemical elements are the materials from which all compounds are built up. The vitalisation of matter itself, and the arrangement of the ultimate particles which constitute a living body, are the work of the vital force in a polarised condition. This will account, in a measure, for all the individuals of one type selecting one mode of expression, as they select or conform to one physical outline. In every rank of life there seems to be some intuitive mode of expression which suggest itself to all the individuals of that kind when they desire, under the same conditions, to express the same thing. The exceptions to this law of expression increase in number as we rise in the scale of life, and the means of expression increase and widen and the faculty of thought enlarges. The laws of chemical affinity are rigid and uncompromising, and there are but few exceptions in them, and only marked changes of condition can modify the results. As we ascend even in the mineral kingdom to the higher compounds we find a wider range of variation; and as we continue our ascent through the vegetable world, we find the same, and on through animals to the highest type. In the lower planes types are more strictly adhered to, habits and food more rigidly observed, while among the highest types of cultivated plants we find a great diversity of fruit and bloom, the capability of transplanting and the creation of new species, without losing the generic identity of the plant or even making it questionable. In the animal kingdom the same law is complied with; and step by step as we ascend the same types show greater and greater diversity, until we reach man--the climax of all life, and within his genus, variation knows no bound. [Sidenote: CONCLUSION] In conclusion, I may say that man as he now is has the faculty of speech. It is reasonable to believe that he has always had this faculty since he was man. If there has ever been a time in the history of his organism when he acquired his being from some progenitor which was not man, he acquired at the same time the faculty of speech, and that progenitor did not impart a thing which he did not have. While it is true that speech, as I have used it, is confined to vocal sounds, other modes of expression have preceded it, and such has been a common faculty inherent through all forms and planes of life. I am aware that two ingredients combined may make a compound unlike either one, and such may be the case with speech, but the elements which constitute the compound must have been for ever present. CHAPTER XXVI. THE SPEECH AND REASON OF DOMESTIC ANIMALS. Dash and the Baby--Two Collies talk--Eunice understands her Mistress--Two Dogs and the Phonograph--A Canine Family--Cats and Dogs--Insects--Signs and Sounds. [Sidenote: THE SPEECH OF DOMESTIC ANIMALS] To those who are familiar with rural life, there can be nothing strange in hearing it said that all animals can talk among their kind. Among the daily incidents of farm life, there occur so many proofs of this as to place the question beyond debate. The cattle have means of conveying ideas to other cattle, and sheep and hogs understand other sheep and hogs, and the means employed are sounds. These sounds are used in the same way that man uses them to convey his thoughts, and since they discharge all the functions of speech, in what respect are they not speech? The types of speech differ in different genera, as their physical types do, but they are not any the less speech on that account. Among the domestic animals, I think the dog has, perhaps, the highest type of speech; and this is doubtless, in some measure, due to his intimate relations with man, from whom he has learned and added a little to his mental store, and this must find an outlet through speech. That dogs think and reason is not to be doubted by the most stupid observer, and they often make known their thoughts so that even man can interpret them with certainty; but the speech by which they express those thoughts is of course rudimentary. Dogs often discharge certain duties with such promptness that bigots declare that it is mechanical and done without motive, but there are many thousands of cases where the dog has assumed and performed duties of others, entirely outside of his own sphere, which nothing but reason could have prompted. When I was only a few weeks old, my father had given to him a little white poodle, which he called Dash. He was about my own age, and we grew up together. In those days, children were rocked in the old-time cradle, and I, like other babies, had a cradle. When I was a few months old, on one occasion I was left asleep in my cradle, and no one was in the room but Dash and myself. Having been disturbed in my sleep, I woke up and cried, and Dash, seeing the condition of things, came to the cradle, and, rearing on his hind feet, rocked it with his paws, and whined and barked until I had gone to sleep again. My mother has often told me of this, and assured me that he had never been taught to do this, but always after practised it, not only with myself, but with my younger brothers and sisters, until, at the age of thirteen, he came to an untimely death at the hands of a bull-dog, whose name and tribe I have never ceased to hate. I gave Dash the burial that he deserved, and had a long procession of mourning children follow his remains to the grave, where I delivered the funeral sermon, and we all sung a hymn. About three years ago, in company with an older sister, I visited the spot for the first time in nearly thirty years, but no sign of the little grave remained. What else but reason could have prompted this act? The dog had seen it done by human beings, and had noted the result. Whether his whining was intended as singing or not, I am unable to say, but from my recollection of seeing him do this with the younger children, I believe that it was intended to soothe or entertain, and his barking to call some one into the room. A farmer by the name of Taylor, living in East Tennessee, some years ago owned two very fine collies, and they had been trained to drive the cattle and sheep about the farm, to drive strange cattle away from the premises, to guard the gates or gaps opened temporarily for hauling about the farm, and many similar duties. On one occasion, in haymaking time, as night was approaching, the waggon made its last homeward trip for the day, and the men working in the meadow prepared to go home. The driver of the waggon, supposing the men from the meadow were following and would close the gates, left them open, and one of these was between the corn-field and a pasture containing a number of cattle. The men, however, did not follow the waggon, but took a near way across the field, and the gate was left open. While the family was at supper, one of the collies was restless and barked continually, and gave such signs of uneasiness as to assure all that something was wrong. His master went to the door, and the dog ran to the gate in the front of the house, and continued barking and lashing his tail with great energy. The master followed to the front gate, and the dog immediately ran barking down the road, but looking back from time to time to see that his master followed, which he did, and was thus led to the open gate, where he found the other collie on guard and keeping the cattle from passing, which they were trying to do. What less than reason could have prompted these dogs to such an act? And what less than speech could have enabled them to execute this feat? They observed the neglect or error of the driver, and foresaw the evil consequences, and it could only have been by agreement reached through an interchange of thoughts that one of them watched while the other gave the alarm. I have known some of these dogs that knew certain cattle by name, and would go into the herd and drive out the one whose name was designated, while it is true in other cases that the dog would only drive out such as were pointed out to him. But many instances proved that they are able to learn the names of the cattle. It is certain that in many instances dogs know the names of the children belonging to the family, and often distinguish them by name. I presume no one doubts that they learn their own names, so that each dog may know when he is called. I know a dog, now living near Leominster, Mass., that extinguished an accidental fire which had been caused by the hired man carelessly dropping a burning match in some straw in the barn-yard after lighting his lantern. The dog had to fight the fire with his paws, and by the time he had extinguished it they were much singed. His loud barking was sufficient to warn the family that something unusual was taking place. They soon responded to his call, and found that he had the fire quite under control. He had thus saved his master's barn and house from the flames, and since that time, as I have witnessed myself, will not allow any one to light a cigar with a match in his presence. The peculiar sound which he makes under such circumstances appeals to the sense of fear or apprehension, and I have observed that the significance of all speech depends much upon intonation. It is less so with man, perhaps, than with other animals, because of the great number of words which amplify and shade his meanings. But by a single word of human speech we can express many shades of meaning simply by modulation; but having at our command so many words to qualify our meaning, we lose sight of the value and power of intonation. The difficulty of discerning the delicate shades of meaning imparted by intonation, depends upon the mode of thought, and the simpler this is the keener the power to interpret inflections. One very important fact is that a dog only learns to interpret one sound on one subject at any one time. He cannot put together in his mind a great number of sounds, nor interpret complex ideas in detail. I know a dog in Charleston, South Carolina, that would fly into a rage and bark fiercely if you say, "Chad, where is that big black dog that whipped you so badly?" But repeated experiments proved to my mind that the dog did not interpret any part of the sentence except the words "black dog," and even this seemed to depend chiefly upon the sound "black," and by saying this sound you would get the same results as to use the entire sentence. He had been whipped by a dog of this description, and had been so often reminded of it that he had associated the sound with the incident. I know a little dog in New York that understands the same sound in a similar way and for similar reasons. She also recognises the name of the lady who owns the black dog. A family, with whom I am on close terms of friendship, owns an ugly little mongrel, to which two of the daughters are very devoted. They have reared her with great care, and lavished upon her many luxuries, far better than most human beings enjoy. The young ladies declared to me that Eunice (which is the dog's name) could understand every word they said on any subject that she had been accustomed to hear. Mattie would say to her, "Eunice, go tell Miss Kate to get on her hat and let us go take a walk." The little dog would run to Miss Kate's room and bark and jump until the young lady would comply. I found that the dog associated the sounds "hat" and "walk" with the act of taking a stroll in the company of the young ladies; but she would act just the same when either one of these words were said to her as she would if one were to repeat a whole canto of Milton; and I think the young ladies have never quite forgiven me for trying to prove to them that Eunice was not a fine English scholar. I find, by means of many experiments, that much depends upon the manner of delivering these sounds; but that the animal is largely guided by the sound alone is proven by the fact that some dogs understand English, others French, German, or some other language, and they do not really understand unless addressed in the speech with which they are familiar. A short time since I tried a novel experiment with the phonograph and two black-and-tan terriers, mother and son. The son was a notorious talker in the way of barking almost continuously at everything, and on all occasions and at all times, while the mother was naturally taciturn, good-natured, and fairly intelligent. I first took the son to a room where I had the phonograph, and I made a record of a number of sounds of his voice. The children aided me in the experiment by getting him to talk for food, bark at his image in the mirror, and by various other ways they induced him to other sounds in the presence of the phonograph. A few days later I had them bring the mother to the same place, where I discharged the contents of my phonograph cylinder in her presence. She gave every evidence of recognising the sounds of the young dog, and in a few instances responded to them. She was naturally perplexed at not being able to find him, and searched the horn and various parts of the room in quest of the young dog. I delivered to her at the same time the record of another dog, to which she paid little attention except by an occasional growl and a look into the horn to see what it meant. She evidently recognised the sounds of the young dog with which she was familiar and seemed to interpret their meanings, whereas the sounds from the other cylinder did little more than attract her attention. Last summer I stopped at a small town in Northern Virginia. A young man at the same hotel had two setters and a black-and-tan terrier. I experimented extensively with these three dogs during my stay, and deduced therefrom some conclusions which were inevitable. The hotel verandah opened on the street, and was a place of resort for gentlemen of leisure about town. There was also a side entrance through a large yard. I have frequently observed the dogs lying asleep on the verandah, when the owner would enter the side yard on a flagstone walk, often in the midst of conversation of a dozen men. The terrier would recognise the footsteps of his master, would utter a low sound and spring to his feet, and rush at once in the direction whence he heard the steps. The setters invariably seemed to know what it meant, would raise their heads, lash their tails upon the floor, showing evident signs of understanding the situation. I have seen this terrier recognise the steps of his master when the latter was accompanied by two or three other persons. The delicate precision of his hearing was marvellous, and in no instance, so far as I observed, was he deceived in the approaching footsteps. I cannot believe that he was guided by the sense of smell, as it is evident that the setters, whose habits of hunting have developed in them a much more sensitive olfactory power, would naturally have been the first to have detected their master's approach, and yet it was equally evident that the terrier's ears were the first to catch the sounds. I have observed among dogs associated with each other that where one should bark in the distance, as though he had something at bay, his companion, hearing him from the house, would prick up his ears, listen for a moment, and then dash off in the direction from whence the sounds came; whereas the bark of a strange dog, even having something at bay, would only cause him to listen, utter a low sound or grunt, and lie down again and take a nap, as much as to say "That's nothing to me!" I have known many instances where dogs would follow the farm waggon to town, and faithfully guard the waggon and its contents all day long, with a fidelity that we seldom see in the most devoted servants. The attachment of a dog to his master has been a subject of remark from time immemorial, until the saying has crystallised into a maxim--"As faithful as a watch-dog." A friend of mine had a little terrier, whose name was Nicodemus, that had a habit of sitting in the kitchen window to watch people pass the street. She assures me that on washdays, when the steam condensed on the window-panes, Nicodemus would lick the moisture from the glass in order to see through it more clearly. Could instinct be the guide in such an act? If man would only pause and calmly view the facts, he would find that he is but a joint heir of Nature; and why not so? From a religious point of view I cannot doubt that the wisdom and mercy of God would bestow alike on all the faculties of speech and reason as their conditions of life require them, and from a scientific point of view I cannot charge the laws of evolution with such disorder. In either case it were a harsh and jarring discord in the great harp of Nature, whether played by the hand of Chance or swept by the fingers of Omniscience. * * * * * _Printed by_ BALLATYNE HANSON & CO. _London and Edinburgh_ _MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST._ * * * * * THE WORKS OF HEINRICH HEINE. TRANSLATED BY CHARLES GODFREY LELAND, M.A., F.R.L.S. (HANS BREITMANN). Crown 8vo, Cloth, 5s. per volume. Volume I. FLORENTINE NIGHTS, SCHNABELEWOPSKI, THE RABBI OF BACHARACH, and SHAKESPEARE'S MAIDENS AND WOMEN. _Times._--"We can recommend no better medium for making acquaintance at first hand with 'the German Aristophanes' than the works of Heinrich Heine, translated by Charles Godfrey Leland. Mr. Leland manages pretty successfully to preserve the easy grace of the original." Volumes II. and III. PICTURES OF TRAVEL, 1823-1828. In Two Volumes. _Daily Chronicle._--"Mr. Leland's translation of 'The Pictures of Travel' is one of the acknowledged literary feats of the age. As a traveller Heine is delicious beyond description, and a volume which includes the magnificent Lucca series, the North Sea, the memorable Hartz wanderings, must needs possess an everlasting charm." Volumes V. and VI. GERMANY. In Two Volumes. _Daily Telegraph._--"Mr. Leland has done his translation in able and scholarly fashion." Volume IV. THE BOOK OF SONGS. [_In the Press._ *.* _Large Paper Edition, limited to 100 Numbered Copies. Particulars on application._ * * * * * THE POSTHUMOUS WORKS OF THOMAS DE QUINCEY. Edited, with Introduction and Notes from the Author's Original MSS., by ALEXANDER H. JAPP, LL.D., F.R.S.E., &c. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 6s. VOLUME I. SUSPIRIA DE PROFUNDIS. _WITH OTHER ESSAYS._ _Times._--"Here we have De Quincey at his best. Will be welcome to lovers of De Quincey and good literature." VOLUME II. CONVERSATION AND COLERIDGE. _WITH OTHER ESSAYS._ [_In preparation._ * * * * * The Great Educators. A new series, by writers of wide educational experience, on the leading movers in educational thought from the earliest time to the present day, will be issued under the general title of "The Great Educators." Much has been written of the great philosophical systems, and of the lives of great thinkers and founders of schools of philosophical speculation, yet nothing has so far been done to give a picture of what is at least of equal importance, the educational effects of these systems in the special periodical ethics of the world. It is not surprising that these ethics, as applied to education, should change with religions, with philosophical systems, even with periodical revolutions, and historical development. But it is surprising that no one has thought the subject sufficiently important to fix from time to time the point of view obtaining as to these educational ethics. It is now proposed, in a limited number of volumes, devoted more to the systems and to the teachings of the greatest educators of the world than to their lives, to show the different points of view, from which races and times and climatic influences have determined the education of mankind. The volumes will therefore range from Aristotle to Dr. Arnold of Rugby. Each subject will form a complete volume of about 300 pages, crown 8vo, _5s._ _Now ready._ =ARISTOTLE, and the Ancient Educational Ideals.= By THOMAS DAVIDSON, M.A., LL.D. =LOYOLA, and the Educational System of the Jesuits.= By Rev. THOMAS HUGHES, S.J. _In preparation._ =ALCUIN, and the Rise of the Christian Schools.= By Professor ANDREW F. WEST, Ph.D. =ABELARD, and the Origin and Early History of Universities.= By JULES GABRIEL COMPAYRE, Professor in the Faculty of Toulouse. =ROUSSEAU; or, Education according to Nature.= =HERBART; or, Modern German Education.= =PESTALOZZI; or, the Friend and Student of Children.= =FROEBEL.= By H. COURTHOPE BOWEN, M.A. =HORACE MANN, and Public Education in the United States.= By NICHOLAS MURRAY BUTLER, Ph.D. =BELL, LANCASTER, and ARNOLD; or, the English Education of To-Day.= By J. G. FITCH, LL.D., Her Majesty's Inspector of Schools. _Others in preparation._ * * * * * In One Volume, 4to, Illustrated. THE GREAT WAR OF 1892. _A FORECAST._ BY REAR-ADMIRAL COLOMB, COL. MAURICE, R.A., MAJOR HENDERSON, STAFF COLLEGE, CAPTAIN MAUDE, ARCHIBALD FORBES, CHARLES LOWE, D. CHRISTIE MURRAY, F. SCUDAMORE, AND SIR CHARLES DILKE. In this narrative, which is reprinted from the pages of _Black and White_, an attempt is made to forecast the course of events preliminary and incidental to the Great War which, in the opinion of military and political experts, will probably occur in the immediate future. The writers, who are well-known authorities on international politics and strategy, have striven to derive the conflict from its most likely source, to conceive the most probable campaigns and acts of policy, and generally to give to their work the verisimilitude and actuality of real warfare. The work has been profusely illustrated from sketches by Mr. Frederic Villiers, the well-known war artist. [_Nearly ready._ =THE OLD MAIDS' CLUB.= By I. ZANGWILL, Author of "The Bachelors' Club." Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3_s._ 6_d._ =WOMAN--THROUGH A MAN'S EYEGLASS.= By MALCOLM C. SALAMAN. With Illustrations by DUDLEY HARDY. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3_s._ 6_d._ _Daily Graphic._--"A most amusing book." _Daily Telegraph._--"Written with brightness and elegance, and with touches of both caustic satire and kindly humour." _Daily Chronicle._--"It is the very thing for a punt cushion or a garden hammock." =ADDRESSES.= By HENRY IRVING. Small crown 8vo. With Portrait. [_In the Press._ =STRAY MEMORIES.= By ELLEN TERRY. 4to, Illustrated. [_In preparation._ =GIRLS AND WOMEN.= By E. CHESTER. Pott 8vo, cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._, or gilt extra, 3_s._ 6_d._ _Literary World._--"We gladly commend this delightful little work to the thoughtful girls of our own country. We hope that many parents and daughters will read and ponder over the little volume." =THE JEW AT HOME.= Impressions of a Summer and Autumn Spent with Him. By JOSEPH PENNELL. With Illustrations by the Author. [_In the Press._ =GOSSIP IN A LIBRARY.= By EDMUND GOSSE, Author of "Northern Studies," &c. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, buckram, gilt top, 7_s._ 6_d._ _Athenæum._--"There is a touch of Leigh Hunt in this picture of the book-lover among his books, and the volume is one that Leigh Hunt would have delighted in." *.* _Large Paper Edition, limited to 100 Numbered Copies, 25s. net._ =THE NEW EXODUS.= The Story of the Jew in Russia. By HAROLD FREDERIC. Demy 8vo, Illustrated. [_In the Press._ =THE WORD OF THE LORD UPON THE WATERS.= Sermons read by His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Germany, while at Sea on his Voyages to the Land of the Midnight Sun. Composed by Dr. RICHTER, Army Chaplain, and Translated from the German by JOHN R. McILRAITH. 4to, cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._ _Times._--"The Sermons are vigorous, simple, and vivid in themselves, and well adapted to the circumstances in which they were delivered." =THE HOURS OF RAPHAEL, IN OUTLINE.= Together with the Ceiling of the Hall where they were originally painted. By MARY E. WILLIAMS. Folio, cloth, _£_2 2_s._ net. =THE PASSION PLAY AT OBERAMMERGAU, 1890.= By F. W. FARRAR, D.D., F.R.S., Archdeacon and Canon of Westminster, &c. &c. 4to, cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._ _Spectator._--"This little book will be read with delight by those who have, and by those who have not, visited Oberammergau." =DE QUINCEY MEMORIALS.= Being Letters and other Records here first Published, with Communications from COLERIDGE, The WORDSWORTHS, HANNAH MORE, PROFESSOR WILSON and others. Edited, with Introduction, Notes, and Narrative, by ALEXANDER H. JAPP, LL.D., F.R.S.E. In two volumes, demy 8vo, cloth, with portraits, 30_s._ net. _Daily Telegraph._--"Few works of greater literary interest have of late years issued from the press than the two volumes of 'De Quincey Memorials.' They comprise most valuable materials for the historian of literary and social England at the beginning of the century; but they are not on that account less calculated to amuse, enlighten, and absorb the general reader of biographical memoirs." =THE SOCIAL LIFE OF MARIE BASHKIRTSEFF.= Letters and Journals. With Drawings and Studies by the youthful Artist. [_In preparation._ =PRINCE BISMARCK.= An Historical Biography. By CHARLES LOWE, M.A. With Portraits. In One Volume. [_In the Press._ =LIFE OF HEINRICH HEINE.= By RICHARD GARNETT, LL.D. With Portrait. Crown 8vo (uniform with the translation of Heine's Works). [_In preparation._ =THE LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN.= By HENRIK J�GER. Translated by CLARA BELL. With the Verse done into English from the Norwegian Original by EDMUND GOSSE. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6_s._ _Academy._--"We welcome it heartily. An unqualified boon to the many English students of Ibsen." =THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES.= As pleasingly exemplified in many instances, wherein the serious ones of this earth, carefully exasperated, have been prettily spurred on to indiscretions and unseemliness, while overcome by an undue sense of right. By J. MCNEIL WHISTLER. A New Edition. Pott 4to, half cloth, 10_s._ 6_d._ _Punch._--"The book in itself, in its binding, print and arrangement, is a work of art.... A work of rare humour, a thing of beauty and a joy for now and ever." =THE COMING TERROR.= And other Essays and Letters. By ROBERT BUCHANAN. Second Edition. Demy 8vo, cloth, 12_s._ 6_d._ _Daily Chronicle._--"This amusing, wrong-headed, audacious, 'cranky' book should be widely read, for there is not a dull line in it." =ARABIC AUTHORS=: A Manual of Arabian History and Literature. By F. F. ARBUTHNOT, M.R.A.S., Author of "Early Ideas," "Persian Portraits," &c. 8vo, cloth, 10_s._ _Manchester Examiner._--"The whole work has been carefully indexed, and will prove a handbook of the highest value to the student who wishes to gain a better acquaintance with Arabian letters." =THE GARDEN'S STORY=; or, Pleasures and Trials of an Amateur Gardener. By G. H. ELLWANGER. With an Introduction by the Rev. C. WOLLEY DOD. 12mo, cloth, with Illustrations, 5_s._ _Scotsman._--"It deals with a charming subject in a charming manner." =IDLE MUSINGS=: Essays in Social Mosaic. By E. CONDER GRAY, Author of "Wise Words and Loving Deeds," &c. &c. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6_s._ _Saturday Review._--"Light, brief, and bright." =THE LABOUR MOVEMENT IN AMERICA.= By RICHARD T. ELY, Ph.D., Associate in Political Economy, Johns Hopkins University. Crown 8vo, cloth, 5_s_. _Saturday Review._--"Both interesting and valuable." =THE LITTLE MANX NATION.= (Lectures delivered at the Royal Institution, 1891.) By HALL CAINE, Author of "The Bondman," "The Scapegoat," &c. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3_s._ 6_d._; paper, 2_s._ 6_d._ _World._--"Mr. Hall Caine takes us back to the days of old romance, and, treating tradition and history in the pictorial style of which he is a master, he gives us a monograph of Man especially acceptable." =NOTES FOR THE NILE.= Together with a Metrical Rendering of the Hymns of Ancient Egypt and of the Precepts of Ptahhotep (the oldest book in the world). By HARDWICKE D. RAWNSLEY, M.A. 16mo, cloth, 5_s._ =DENMARK=: Its History, Topography, Language, Literature, Fine Arts, Social Life, and Finance. Edited by H. WEITEMEYER. Demy 8vo, cloth, with Map, 12_s._ 6_d._ *.* _Dedicated, by permission, to H.R.H. the Princess of Wales._ _Morning Post._--"An excellent account of everything relating to this Northern country." =IMPERIAL GERMANY.= A Critical Study of Fact and Character. By SIDNEY WHITMAN. New Edition, Revised and Enlarged. Crown 8vo, cloth 2_s._ 6_d._; paper, 2_s._ _Prince Bismarck._--"I consider the different chapters of this book masterly." =THE CANADIAN GUIDE-BOOK.= The Tourist's and Sportsman's Guide to Eastern Canada and Newfoundland, including full descriptions of Routes, Cities, Points of Interest, Summer Resorts, Fishing Places, &c., in Eastern Ontario, The Muskoka District, The St. Lawrence Region, The Lake St. John Country, The Maritime Provinces, Prince Edward Island, and Newfoundland. With an Appendix giving Fish and Game Laws, and Official Lists of Trout and Salmon Rivers and their Lessees. By CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS, Professor of English Literature in King's College, Windsor, N.S. With Maps and many Illustrations. Crown 8vo, limp cloth, 6_s._ =THE GENESIS OF THE UNITED STATES.= A Narrative of the Movement in England, 1605-1616, which resulted in the Plantation of North America by Englishmen, disclosing the Contest between England and Spain for the Possession of the Soil now occupied by the United States of America; set forth through a series of Historical Manuscripts now first printed, together with a Re-issue of Rare Contemporaneous Tracts, accompanied by Bibliographical Memoranda, Notes, and Brief Biographies. Collected, Arranged, and Edited by ALEXANDER BROWN, F.R.H.S. With 100 Portraits, Maps, and Plans. In two volumes. Roy. 8vo, buckram, _£_3 13_s._ 6_d._ _Times._--"Should prove invaluable to all serious students of the early history of the United States." Fiction. =THE NAULAHKA.= A Tale of West and East. By RUDYARD KIPLING and WOLCOTT BALESTIER. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6_s._ =THE AVERAGE WOMAN.= By WOLCOTT BALESTIER. With Portrait of the Author, and Biographical Introduction by HENRY JAMES. Small crown 8vo, 3_s._ 6_d._ =NOR WIFE, NOR MAID.= By Mrs. HUNGERFORD, Author of "Molly Bawn," &c. In three volumes. 31_s._ 6_d._ =ORIOLE'S DAUGHTER.= A Novel. By JESSIE FOTHERGILL, Author of "The First Violin," &c. In two volumes. [_In the Press._ =THE HEAD OF THE FIRM.= By Mrs. RIDDELL, Author of "George Geith," "Maxwell Drewett," &c. [_In the Press._ =THE TOWER OF TADDEO.= A Novel. By OUIDA, Author of "Two Little Wooden Shoes," &c. In volumes. [_In the Press._ =WOMAN AND THE MAN.= A Love Story. By ROBERT BUCHANAN, Author of "Come Live with Me and be My Love," "The Moment After," "The Coming Terror," &c. In two volumes. [_In preparation._ =LITTLE JOHANNES.= By FREDERICK VAN EEDEN. Translated from the Dutch by CLARA BELL. With an Introduction by ANDREW LANG. Illustrated. [_In preparation._ *.* _Also a Large Paper Edition._ =THE DOMINANT SEVENTH.= A Musical Story. By KATE ELIZABETH CLARKE. Crown 8vo, cloth, 5_s._ _Speaker._--"A very romantic story." =PASSION THE PLAYTHING.= A Novel. By R. MURRAY GILCHRIST. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6_s._ _Athenæum._--"This well-written story must be read to be appreciated." The Crown Copyright Series. Mr. HEINEMANN has made arrangements with a number of the FIRST AND MOST POPULAR ENGLISH, AMERICAN, and COLONIAL AUTHORS which will enable him to issue a series of NEW AND ORIGINAL WORKS, to be known as THE CROWN COPYRIGHT SERIES, complete in One Volume, at a uniform price of FIVE SHILLINGS EACH. These Novels will not pass through an Expensive Two or Three Volume Edition, but they will be obtainable at the CIRCULATING LIBRARIES, as well as at all Booksellers' and Bookstalls. =ACCORDING TO ST. JOHN.= By AM�LIE RIVES, Author of "The Quick or the Dead." _Scotsman._--"The literary work is highly artistic.... It has beauty and brightness, and a kind of fascination which carries the reader on till he has read to the last page." =THE PENANCE OF PORTIA JAMES.= By TASMA, Author of "Uncle Piper of Piper's Hill," &c. _Athenæum._--"A powerful novel." _Daily Chronicle._--"Captivating and yet tantalising, this story is far above the average." _Vanity Fair._--"A very interesting story, morally sound, and flavoured throughout with ease of diction and lack of strain." =INCONSEQUENT LIVES.= A Village Chronicle, shewing how certain folk set out for El Dorado; what they attempted; and what they attained. By J. H. PEARCE, Author of "Esther Pentreath," &c. _Saturday Review._--"A vivid picture of the life of Cornish fisher-folk. It is unquestionably interesting." _Literary World._--"Powerful and pathetic ... from first to last it is profoundly interesting. It is long since we read a story revealing power of so high an order, marked by such evident carefulness of workmanship, such skill in the powerful and yet temperate presentation of passion, and in the sternly realistic yet delicate treatment of difficult situations." =A QUESTION OF TASTE.= By MAARTEN MAARTENS, Author of "An Old Maid's Love," &c. _National Observer._--"There is more than cleverness; there is original talent, and a good deal of humanity besides." =COME LIVE WITH ME AND BE MY LOVE.= By ROBERT BUCHANAN, Author of "The Moment After," "The Coming Terror," &c. [_In the Press._ =THE O'CONNORS OF BALLINAHINCH.= By Mrs. HUNGERFORD, Author of "Molly Bawn," &c. [_In the Press._ =A BATTLE AND A BOY.= By BLANCHE WILLIS HOWARD, Author of "Guenn," &c. [_In preparation._ =VANITAS.= By VERNON LEE, Author of "Hauntings," &c. [_In preparation._ Heinemann's International Library. EDITED BY EDMUND GOSSE. _New Review._--"If you have any pernicious remnants of literary chauvinism I hope it will not survive the series of foreign classics of which Mr. William Heinemann, aided by Mr. Edmund Gosse, is publishing translations to the great contentment of all lovers of literature." _Times._--"A venture which deserves encouragement." _Each Volume has an Introduction specially written by the Editor._ Price, in paper covers, 2_s._ 6_d._ each, or cloth, 3_s._ 6_d._ =IN GOD'S WAY.= From the Norwegian of BJ�RNSTJERNE BJ�RNSON. _Athenæum._--"Without doubt the most important and the most interesting work published during the twelve months.... There are descriptions which certainly belong to the best and cleverest things our literature has ever produced. Amongst the many characters, the doctor's wife is unquestionably the first. It would be difficult to find anything more tender, soft, and refined than this charming personage." =PIERRE AND JEAN.= From the French of GUY DE MAUPASSANT. _Pall Mall Gazette._--"So fine and faultless, so perfectly balanced, so steadily progressive, so clear and simple and satisfying. It is admirable from beginning to end." _Athenæum._--"Ranks amongst the best gems of modern French fiction." =THE CHIEF JUSTICE.= From the German of KARL EMIL FRANZOS, Author of "For the Right," &c. _New Review._--"Few novels of recent times have a more sustained and vivid human interest." _Christian World._--"A story of wonderful power ... as free from any thing objectionable as 'The Heart of Midlothian.'" =WORK WHILE YE HAVE THE LIGHT.= From the Russian of Count LYOF TOLSTOY. _Liverpool Mercury._--"Marked by all the old power of the great Russian novelist." _Manchester Guardian._--"Readable and well translated; full of high and noble feeling." =FANTASY.= From the Italian of MATILDE SERAO. _National Observer._--"The strongest work from the hand of a woman that has been published for many a day." _Scottish Leader._--"The book is full of a glowing and living realism.... There is nothing like 'Fantasy' in modern literature.... It is a work of elfish art, a mosaic of light and love, of right and wrong, of human weakness and strength, and purity and wantonness, pieced together in deft and witching precision." =FROTH.= From the Spanish of Don ARMANDO PALACIO-VALD�S. _Daily Telegraph._--"Vigorous and powerful in the highest degree. It abounds in forcible delineation of character, and describes scenes with rare and graphic strength." =FOOTSTEPS OF FATE.= From the Dutch of LOUIS COUPERUS. _Daily Chronicle._--"A powerfully realistic story which has been excellently translated." _Gentlewoman._--"The consummate art of the writer prevents this tragedy from sinking to melodrama. Not a single situation is forced or a circumstance exaggerated." =PEPITA JIM�NEZ.= From the Spanish of JUAN VALERA. _W. D. Howells._--"An exquisite masterpiece." _New Review_ (Mr. George Saintsbury):--"There is no doubt at all that it is one of the best stories that have appeared in any country in Europe for the last twenty years." =THE COMMODORE'S DAUGHTERS.= From the Norwegian of JONAS LIE. _Athenæum._--"Everything that Jonas Lie writes is attractive and pleasant; the plot of deeply human interest, and the art noble." =THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS.= From the Norwegian of BJ�RNSTJERNE BJ�RNSON. Popular 3s. 6d. Novels. =THE SCAPEGOAT.= By HALL CAINE, Author of "The Bondman," &c. _Mr. Gladstone writes:_--"I congratulate you upon 'The Scapegoat' as a work of art, and especially upon the noble and skilfully drawn character of Israel." _Times._--"In our judgment it excels in dramatic force all his previous efforts. For grace and touching pathos Naomi is a character which any romancist in the world might be proud to have created." =DAUGHTERS OF MEN.= By HANNAH LYNCH, Author of "The Prince of the Glades," &c. =THE BONDMAN.= A New Saga. By HALL CAINE. Twentieth Thousand. _Mr. Gladstone._--"'The Bondman' is a work of which I recognise the freshness, vigour, and sustained interest no less than its integrity of aim." _Standard._--"Its argument is grand, and it is sustained with a power that is almost marvellous." =A MARKED MAN=: Some Episodes in his Life. By ADA CAMBRIDGE, Author of "Two Years' Time," "A Mere Chance," &c. _Morning Post._--"A depth of feeling, a knowledge of the human heart, and an amount of tact that one rarely finds. Should take a prominent place among the novels of the season." _Pall Mall Gazette._--"Contains one of the best written stories of a mésalliance that is to be found in modern fiction." =THE THREE MISS KINGS.= By ADA CAMBRIDGE, Author of "A Marked Man." _Athenæum._--"A charming study of character. The love stories are excellent, and the author is happy in tender situations." _British Weekly._--"A novel to be bought and kept for re-reading. From beginning to end pure as the breath of a flower garden in June." _National Observer._--"A pleasanter tale has not been told these many days. The picture of the three maidens is one of the most delightful in recent fiction." =A ROMANCE OF THE CAPE FRONTIER.= By BERTRAM MITFORD, Author of "Through the Zulu Country," &c. _Academy._--"The love story is a particularly pleasing one." _Pall Mall Gazette._--"A very lively and a very picturesque story." _Observer._--"This is a rattling tale, genial, healthy, and spirited." =UNCLE PIPER OF PIPER'S HILL.= By TASMA. New Popular Edition. _Guardian._--"Every page of it contains good wholesome food, which demands and repays digestion. The tale itself is thoroughly charming, and all the characters are delightfully drawn. We strongly recommend all lovers of wholesome novels to make acquaintance with it themselves, and are much mistaken if they do not heartily thank us for the introduction." =IN THE VALLEY.= By HAROLD FREDERIC, Author of "The Lawton Girl," "Seth's Brother's Wife," &c. With Illustrations. _Times._--"The literary value of the book is high; the author's studies of bygone life presenting a life-like picture." =PRETTY MISS SMITH.= By FLORENCE WARDEN, Author of "The House on the Marsh," "A Witch of the Hills," &c. _Punch._--"Since Miss Florence Warden's 'House on the Marsh,' I have not read a more exciting tale." =LOS CERRITOS.= A Romance of the Modern Time. By GERTRUDE FRANKLIN ATHERTON, Author of "Hermia Suydam," and "What Dreams may Come." _Athenæum._--"Full of fresh fancies and suggestions. Told with strength and delicacy. A decidedly charming romance." =A MODERN MARRIAGE.= By the Marquise CLARA LANZA. _Queen._--"A powerful story, dramatically and consistently carried out." _Black and White._--"A decidedly clever book." _In preparation._ ='TWEEN SNOW AND FIRE.= A Tale of the Kafir War of 1877. By BERTRAM MITFORD. [_In June._ =NOT ALL IN VAIN.= By ADA CAMBRIDGE, Author of "A Marked Man," "The Three Miss Kings," &c. =MAMMON.= A Novel. By Mrs. ALEXANDER, Author of "The Wooing O't," &c. _Scotsman._--"The present work is not behind any of its predecessors. 'Mammon' is a healthy story, and as it has been thoughtfully written it has the merit of creating thought in its readers." =HAUNTINGS=: Fantastic Stories. By VERNON LEE, Author of "Baldwin," "Miss Brown," &c. &c. _Pall Mall Gazette._--"Well imagined, cleverly constructed, powerfully executed. 'Dionea' is a fine and impressive idea, and 'Oke of Okehurst' a masterly story." =MEA CULPA=: A Woman's Last Word. By HENRY HARLAND. _Times._--"There is no denying its cleverness; it is the very reverse of conventional. The author in his social touches reminds us of About, and it would be difficult to say anything more flattering." Popular Shilling Books. =MADAME VALERIE.= By F. C. PHILIPS, Author of "As in a Looking-Glass," &c. =THE MOMENT AFTER=: A Tale of the Unseen. By ROBERT BUCHANAN. _Athenæum._--"Should be read--in daylight." _Observer._--"A clever _tour de force_." _Guardian._--"Particularly impressive, graphic, and powerful." =CLUES=; or, Leaves from a Chief Constable's Note-Book. By WILLIAM HENDERSON, Chief Constable of Edinburgh. _Mr. Gladstone._--"I found the book full of interest." _THE SHILLING LIBRARY._ A New Series of handy Pocket Volumes. =A VERY STRANGE FAMILY.= By F. W. ROBINSON, Author of "Grandmother's Money," "Lazarus in London," &c. _Glasgow Herald._--"An ingeniously devised plot, of which the interest is kept up to the very last page. A judicious blending of humour and pathos further helps to make the book delightful reading from start to finish." _*.* Others in preparation._ Dramatic Literature. THE PLAYS OF ARTHUR W. PINERO. With Introductory Notes by MALCOLM C. SALAMAN. 16mo, Paper Covers, 1_s._ 6_d._; or Cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._ each. =THE TIMES=: A Comedy in Four Acts. With a Preface by the Author. (Vol. I.) _Daily Telegraph._--"'The Times' is the best example yet given of Mr. Pinero's power as a satirist. So clever is his work that it beats down opposition. So fascinating is his style that we cannot help listening to him." _Morning Post._--"Mr. Pinero's latest belongs to a high order of dramatic literature, and the piece will be witnessed again with all the greater zest after the perusal of such admirable dialogue." =THE PROFLIGATE=: A Play in Four Acts. With Portrait of the Author, after J. MORDECAI. (Vol. II.) _Pall Mall Gazette._--"Will be welcomed by all who have the true interests of the stage at heart." =THE CABINET MINISTER=: A Farce in Four Acts. (Vol. III.) _Observer._--"It is as amusing to read as it was when played." =THE HOBBY HORSE=: A Comedy in Three Acts. (Vol. IV.) =LADY BOUNTIFUL.= A Play in Four Acts. (Vol. V.) To be followed by The Magistrate, Dandy Dick, The Schoolmistress, The Weaker Sex, Lords and Commons, The Squire, and Sweet Lavender. =THE PRINCESSE MALEINE=: A Drama in Five Acts (Translated by Gerard Harry), and =THE INTRUDER=: A Drama in One Act. By MAURICE MAETERLINCK. With an Introduction by HALL CAINE, and a Portrait of the Author. Small 4to, cloth, 5_s._ _Athenæum._--"In the creation of the 'atmosphere' of the play M. Maeterlinck shows his skill. It is here that he communicates to us the _nouveau frisson_, here that he does what no one else has done. In 'The Intruder' the art consists of the subtle gradations of terror, the slow, creeping progress of the nightmare of apprehension. Nothing quite like it has been done before--not even by Poe--not even by Villiers." =THE FRUITS OF ENLIGHTENMENT=: A Comedy in Four Acts. By Count LYOF TOLSTOY. Translated from the Russian by E. J. DILLON. With Introduction by A. W. PINERO. Small 4to, with Portrait, 5_s._ _Pall Mall Gazette._--"The whole effect of the play is distinctly Molièresque; it has something of the large humanity of the master. Its satire is genial, almost gay." =HEDDA GABLER=: A Drama in Four Acts. By HENRIK IBSEN. Translated from the Norwegian by EDMUND GOSSE. Small 4to, cloth, with Portrait, 5_s._ Vaudeville Edition, paper, 1_s._ Also a Limited Large Paper Edition, 21_s._ _net_. _Times._--"The language in which this play is couched is a model of brevity, decision, and pointedness.... Every line tells, and there is not an incident that does not bear on the action immediate or remote. As a corrective to the vapid and foolish writing with which the stage is deluged 'Hedda Gabler' is perhaps entitled to the place of honour." =NERO AND ACT�A=: A Tragedy. By ERIC MACKAY, Author of "A Lover's Litanies," and "Love Letters of a Violinist." Crown 8vo, cloth, 5_s._ _Morning Post._--"Well written, picturesque, and thoroughly dramatic." =A NEW PLAY.= By HALL CAINE. Small 4to. [_In preparation._ =STRAY MEMORIES.= By ELLEN TERRY. In one volume. Illustrated. [_In preparation._ =SOME INTERESTING FALLACIES OF THE= Modern Stage. An Address delivered to the Playgoers' Club at St. James's Hall, on Sunday, 6th December, 1891. By HERBERT BEERBOHM TREE. Crown 8vo, sewed, 6_d._ =THE LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN.= By HENRIK J�GER. Translated by CLARA BELL. With the Verse done into English from the Norwegian Original by EDMUND GOSSE. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6_s._ _St. James's Gazette._--"Admirably translated. Deserves a cordial and emphatic welcome." _Guardian._--"Ibsen's dramas at present enjoy a considerable vogue, and their admirers will rejoice to find full descriptions and criticisms in Mr. Jæger's book." * * * * * TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES Side notes have been taken from the page headers and moved to the beginnings of paragraphs or where more appropriate to the beginnings of sentences in the text. page xi Litle replaced with Little in "Little Darwin learns a new word". page 5 space added between The and familiar "The familiar voice of his mate". page 124 freindship replaced with friendship in "which seems to indicate friendship." page 216 full stop added after "does not continue through the vowel". page 231 every replaced with very in "Their means of communication are very contracted,". page 232 sigmata replaced with stigmata in "scratching by means of their stigmata,". Endpapers: A full stop was added after Daily Telegraph in the ad for Volumes V and VI GERMANY. A " was added after "Both interesting and valuable" in the ad for THE LABOUR MOVEMENT IN AMERICA. ex replaced by Sex in "The Weaker Sex," in the ad for LADY BOUNTIFUL. In the ad for THE FRUITS OF ENLIGHTENMENT full stop added after 5s. In the ad for HEDDA GABLER anguage replaced with language in "The language in which this play".