“It is a monkey! Oh, look! He’s hanging by his tail from a tree!”
Then they all saw it, and as Mr. Martin stopped the machine just beneath the swaying monkey, Mrs. Martin exclaimed:
“What in the world does it mean? Trouble, I beg your pardon! You were right, after all! I thought you were fooling.”
“He’s my monkey!” declared the little fellow. “I saw him first! He’s mine!”
“If you can get him!” chuckled Ted. “But I guess he’s going to stay up there out of reach.”
“How do you suppose a monkey comes to be in these woods?” asked Mrs. Martin of her husband. “Could it have escaped from a circus?”
“There’s nellifunts in a circus,” announced Trouble, getting back to his favorite subject.
“Yes, this little chap might have come from a circus,” said Mr. Martin, with a smile, as he looked up at the monkey, now swinging above his head. “Or from some house. Some people have monkeys for pets.”
“Maybe it belongs to the moving pictures!” exclaimed Ted. “They have a lot of animals in the pictures.”
“I don’t believe it was with Mr. Portnay’s company,” Mrs. Martin remarked. “We didn’t see any such animals there. But what are we going to do about this one?”