She paused awhile; and then moving her hands overhead—
“Trees—great trees like the Magdalena—always nothing but trees—wild and bad everything. Ayacanora won't talk about that.”
“Do you mind anything that grew on those trees?” asked Yeo, eagerly.
She laughed. “Silly! Flowers and fruit, and nuts—grow on all trees, and monkey-cups too. Ayacanora climbed up after them—when she was wild. I won't tell any more.”
“But who taught you to call them monkey-cups?” asked Yeo, trembling with excitement.
“Monkey's drink; mono drink.”
“Mono?” said Yeo, foiled on one cast, and now trying another. “How did you know the beasts were called monos?”
“She might have heard it coming down with us,” said Cary, who had joined the group.
“Ay, monos,” said she, in a self-justifying tone. “Faces like little men, and tails. And one very dirty black one, with a beard, say Amen in a tree to all the other monkeys, just like Sir John on Sunday.”
This allusion to Brimblecombe and the preaching apes upset all but old Yeo.