“The Uproar was Tremendous.”
That day passed wearily away, but there were a couple more visits from the jailers, who looked at the prisoner curiously before going back.
At the second visit they brought more rice and water—nothing more—and to all Stan’s questions about Wing, the mandarin, and the merchant to whom he had sent a message, there was nothing but a dull, stolid, exasperating stare, and then once more he was left.
Twice over there was the cracking and tearing sound as if the monkey was working away at the wood, but with darkness all was silent within the gate-tower. Plenty of sounds arose from outside, but the prison was evidently right at the back, and the trampling and voices heard from time to time seemed far away.
That night sleep was long in coming, for Stan had much thinking to do, and he carefully examined his prison while the monkey clung to the bars asleep. As far as he could make out, there was not much prospect of escape. By working hard Stan felt that he could perhaps have succeeded in getting through into the monkey’s partition, but nothing would apparently be gained by that, and he sank into a moody fit, full of discontent at his ill-fortune, wishing that he had refused to come up the country, and that he had stayed with father and uncle; ending by working himself up into a low, despondent state, from which he was released by sleep.
Three days dragged their slow course along without change. Plenty of soldiers came in with the jailers to stare at him, and from time to time parties of men and women were admitted to the narrow yard, where they divided themselves between staring at him and the monkey, till the lad grew at times half-maddened.
“Oh,” he groaned to himself, “the miserable, conceited brutes! To be treated like a curiosity! I believe they look upon me as no better than that monkey. Well,” he added mockingly, “it’s only fair. I don’t look upon them as being as good. Poor wretch! How every one teases and ill-uses it! I wish he’d do one of the miserable cowardly wretches some harm.”
But as time went on in a horribly monotonous state of imprisonment, Stan noted that, in spite of the way in which the soldiery prodded and struck at the poor beast with their spear-shafts, it seemed less vicious. When he and the monkey were free from interruption, its great delight was to come to the bars of the cage and thrust out its long, thin arm, while if Stan would take its hand it was perfectly still and happy.
What it was doing up by the top of the bamboos Stan could not make out, but from the beautifully white, sharp state of its two great rows of teeth, the lad came to the conclusion that it was following the example of carnivorous animals and sharpening and cleaning them upon the woodwork; but after that hurried visit from the men when Stan first heard the cracking and splintering noise, they came no more save at regular times, when they made sure that he was safe, and treated all his attempts to make himself understood as if he were some lower-class animal kept for show.
And during the next two days this seemed to be more and more the case, for the soldiers kept on ushering in common-looking country-people, till at one time the yard was nearly full of gaping spectators, for whose delectation the monkey would be sent bounding about its cage, flying up the bars in front to avoid the shaft of some spear thrust in brutally, but, in spite of rapid strokes, rarely striking it. For the active little creature made prodigious leaps, or swung itself from side to side by its long, thin, muscular arms; and as often as not it scrambled up the partition bamboos to take refuge in the corner farthest from the front, to hold on in full view of Stan, keeping itself in position close to the roof by clinging with both arms round a couple of the bamboos, its head being thrust away in the extreme angle.