“That makes seven rupees, then,” said his master, laughing; “not much to continue the quest on, eh, Jack?”
“We'll manage,” said Jack hopefully. “But, I say, you haven't told us your plans yet, old fellow.”
“Oh, our course is as plain as a pikestaff. We'll hire a native boat, and follow the shark-charmer across the Strait. The only question is, where's enough money to come from?”
“Don't know,” said Jack, “unless we try to borrow it in the bazaar.”
At this juncture there occurred an interruption which, unlikely though it may seem, was destined to lead to a most satisfactory solution of this all-important and perplexing question.
While this conversation was in progress Puggles had seated himself at a short distance behind his master, and throwing his turban aside, proceeded to untie and dress the one tuft of hair which adorned the back of his otherwise cleanly shaven head.
Directly above the spot where he sat there extended far out from the trunk of the banyan a branch of great size, from which dangled numerous rope-like air-roots, which, reaching to-within a few feet of the ground, swayed to and fro in the morning breeze. Out along this branch crept a large black monkey, which, after taking a cautious survey of Puggles and his unconscious neighbours, glided noiselessly down one of the swinging roots, and from its extremity dropped lightly to the ground within a yard of the discarded turban. Cautiously, with his cunning ferret-eyes fastened on the preoccupied Puggles, the monkey approached the coveted prize, snatched it up, and with a shrill cry of triumph turned tail and fled.
Looking quickly round at the cry, Puggles took in the situation at a glance.
“Sa'b! Sar!” he shouted, invoking the aid of both his master and Jack in one breath, “one black debil monkey me turban done hooking;” and leaping to his feet he gave chase.
“Why,” said Jack, “the little beast is making a bee-line for the old fort. It must be Bosin, Captain Mango's pet monkey.”