So Barty trotted along and the Good Wolf trotted with him. The bird with the blue crest flew before them and Barty was quite sure it was showing them the way somewhere, because every now and then it stopped and perched on a bough and sang its little song. They went up the hill and up and up until they came to a place where they suddenly found themselves on the edge of a green hollow, and the minute they saw it the Good Wolf cried out, "There's something we want," and trotted down as fast as he could to a big, clear pool which lay at the bottom of the hollow, and began to lap quickly.
"I want it, too," shouted Barty, and ran down the green slope himself.
He was just going to kneel down when he saw his bird fluttering about under a tall tree, and when he looked up he saw the tree was a very funny one. It was like a palm tree but it had great balls hanging from it and something queer was going on high up among the branches. The leaves were shaking as if things were moving about among them, and Barty was rather startled because he heard chattering, squeaking little voices. The sounds were so funny that for a minute he forgot that he was thirsty.
"That isn't birds," he said to the Good Wolf. "It isn't singing and it isn't chirping. What do you think it is?"
"Just watch a minute and you will see," the Good Wolf answered. Barty did not get up from his knees but he threw his curly head back and looked with all his might. What do you suppose he saw? First one little tiny black face with sharp eyes and sharp white teeth and a wrinkled nose, and then another little tiny funny black face with sharp eyes and sharp white teeth and a wrinkled nose, and then another, and then another. They peeped at him from under the leaves, and from over the leaves and round the big balls which hung from the branches. They gibbered and chattered and squeaked, and squeaked and gibbered and chattered. Barty's eyes got bigger and bigger and began to sparkle, and suddenly he jumped up and clapped his hands.
"They're monkeys!" he shouted. "They are little jet black monkeys, just like the ones that played in the land of the Snow Feast. Horray! Horray! Horray! Perhaps they are the very ones."
He put his hands up to his mouth and made a trumpet of them and shouted through it to the top of the tree. It was such a very tall tree and there were so many monkeys in it and they were making such a noise that they never could have heard him if he hadn't shouted.
"Hello!" he called, "were you the ones at the
Snow Feast?"