Billy Whiskers at the Circus

by Frances Trego Montgomery

By this time the monkeys’ big cage was standing ready for them to get into it, but not one of them showed any disposition to take the hint. Mike and Jim, who were given charge of them also, coaxed and coaxed in vain. Finally one of them caught Tittlebat Titmouse—that was the big name of the smallest monkey—and put him inside though he resisted with all his tiny might. But he wouldn’t stay put. Out he popped as soon as the hand that held him let him go.

Finally Billy Whiskers jumped in and all the rest followed.

This delay made the monkey cage the last of all to get started. There was need to hurry. So Mike and Jim decided that they would put off boxing Billy up until they reached the station. They felt sure that there would be a chance in the darkness and confusion that there always was when loading the cars. The box they planned to put him in was carried to the train on the top of the big cage. Jim drove to the darkest and most out-of-the-way place he could that they might the less likely be interrupted in carrying out their wicked scheme.

Pretty soon after the wagon came to a halt, Mike appeared at the door of the cage. At first he called Billy Whiskers softly, and seemed greatly pleased to find him laying right by the cage door.

“It makes it just as easy as can be,” Billy heard him say. “You open the door, Jim, and I will yank him out. Shut and lock it as quick as ever you can and then help me, for I may need it.”

“You may indeed,” thought Billy. He could just make out to see that his friends, the monkeys, were wide awake and ready to do the parts agreed upon.

The bolt was softly withdrawn and the cage door swung noiselessly open. Mike’s great arm followed by his head and shoulders were thrust inside the cage. Billy felt himself firmly grasped about the waist and in another second he would have been dragged out and on the ground, but just in the nick of season the long thin arm of Colonel Mandrill shot out once more, but this time it grasped not Billy Whiskers but the neck of Mike, the keeper. We already know from Billy Whiskers’ former experience the terrible strength of old Blue Nose’s right arm. Mike was learning it now. He let go Billy and pulled and tore at the thing that was tightening about his throat. He would have called to Jim but could make no sound. He tried to pull away but all in vain.

Jim, of course, very soon discovered that there was something wrong. He crowded in by the side of Mike to find out what it might be. Quicker than it takes to tell it, a dozen lean arms, big and little, had grabbed him wherever they could lay hold, and in two seconds he was as helpless as Mike.

Billy did not try to interfere for a minute or two. Then he took matters in hand. He commanded Colonel Blue Nose to let go, but he did not obey. He ordered the other monkeys to drop Jim, but they followed old Blue Nose’s bad example.

Billy was now frightened for the lives of the two men. He didn’t want to be responsible for their deaths in such a dreadful way. He reminded the monkeys that they had chosen him their leader and once more ordered them to give over their prey. At this Colonel Mandrill reluctantly obeyed and Mike dropped limp and insensible at the side of the cage. The others followed the example of old Blue Nose and Jim fell by the side of his pal in no better condition.