By this time he had managed to creep over toward the fire, on which he threw some light wood. The glowing embers caught it, and as the blaze flared up it revealed a big monkey tangled up amid the folds of Bob’s blanket, while Chunky was buried somewhere beneath the pile. The beast was struggling wildly to escape, but Bob, in his terror, had grabbed it by a leg.
“Stop your noise!” commanded Jerry. “You’re not hurt, Chunky!”
“Are you sure they haven’t killed me?” asked Bob, releasing his hold on the beast, which, with a wild chatter of fear, fled from the hut.
“You ought to be able to give the best evidence on that score,” said Jerry, as he lighted one of the lamps.
“The fellow tried to choke me,” sputtered Bob.
“I guess the poor beast was as badly scared as you were,” remarked the professor. “It was probably attracted in here by the light and warmth. Well, we seem bound to run up against excitement, night as well as day.”
“The monkey must have knocked something over,” said Jerry. “I was awakened by the sound of something falling.”
They looked and saw that the beast had tried to eat the remains of the supper, and had upset a big pot.
“I was sure it was a man, at first,” explained Jerry, “and when I saw it go down and start over toward me I was afraid it was some of those Mexican brigands that traveled with Vasco Bilette and Noddy Nixon, when those rascals were on our trail.”