“The monkeys are bombarding the professor with cocoanuts,” said Bob, gasping for breath after his run.
“Cocoanuts?”
“That’s what they are. Here come some more.”
He had scarcely spoken before the air was again dark with the brown nuts, which were much larger than those seen in market, being contained in their original husk. At the same time there was a chorus of angry cries from the monkeys.
It was evident now why the professor dared not leave his rock shelter. The minute he did so he would run the risk of being struck down and probably killed by a volley of the nuts. Nor could the boys go to his rescue, for the moment they crossed the clearing they would be targets for the infuriated animals.
“What’s to be done?” asked Ned.
“Supposing we shoot some of the monkeys,” suggested Bob.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” said Jerry. “In the first place if we kill any of the animals it will make the others all the angrier. And then we would have to keep shooting for several days to make much of an inroad on the beasts. There must be five thousand of them.”
Indeed, the forest was full of the long-tailed and nimble-fingered monkeys, all perched in cocoanut or other trees, ready to resent the slightest movement on the part of their human enemies.