This act produced a frightened start on the monkey’s part, and another burst of chattering.
“Better let him go,” said Morgan. “I daresay they’ll get used to one another by and by.”
“He’ll do it, sir; give him time,” said Billy. “Now, Jack, give us your hand. You just pat his head. Sure he won’t bite, sir?”
“Certain,” cried Mark.
“It’s all right: do you hear, stoopid? Ah! would you bite? You do, and I’ll chuck yer overboard. Now, then.”
In spite of the monkey’s struggles he forced one hand to within reach of the dog’s head, and pressed it down till he could pat it with the thin black fingers.
Bruff whined, but he was held by the collar, and suffered the touch without other protest, while, as if relieved by finding that his hand was neither burned nor bitten off, the monkey made no resistance the second time, ending by touching the dog himself, and, as if overcome by curiosity, struggling to be free, and squatting down and examining the interior of his new acquaintance’s ears.
Bruff half-closed his eyes and made no resistance, and, cautiously loosening his hold upon the collar but kneeling ready to seize him at the least inimical display, Mark watched the little comedy which went on.
For after a rigid examination of one ear, and a loud chattering, probably a lecture upon its structure, Jack pulled the head over and proceeded to examine the other ear, after which he made several pokes at the dog’s eyes, and held his head while he looked into them as if they were something entirely new, all of which Bruff submitted to in the calmest manner.
“They will not fight now,” said the second-mate laughing.