“He came in precious handy that day, Nie. You see, it was like this:—Neither he nor I had ever been to South America before; so when we went away shooting together we weren’t much used to the cries of the birds or beasts of the woods. The birds seemed to mimic the beasts, and reptiles often made sounds like birds. We had been away through the forest, and such a forest—ah! Nie, you should have seen the foliage and the creepers. We had had pretty good sport for strangers. We shot and bagged everything, snakes and birds and beasts, for I was making up a bag for the doctor, who was a great man for stuffing and setting up. We had just sat down to rest, when suddenly the most awful cries that ever I heard began to echo through the woods.
“They came from a thicket not very far away, and at one moment were plaintive, at the next, discordant, harsh, dreadful.
“‘Friday,’ I cried, starting up and seizing my gun, ‘there is murder, and nothing less, being done in that thicket. Let’s run down and see.’
“‘It seems so, massa,’ said Friday; ‘it’s truly t’rific.’
“We ran on as we spoke, and soon came to the place, and peered cautiously in.
“It was only a howler monkey after all.”
“And was nothing the matter with him?” I asked.
“Nothing at all. It was merely this monkey’s way of amusing itself.”
“Did you shoot him?”