He called the monkey by name, implored him to look at him, and finally bewailed that he had ever left the circus, where at least his pet's life was safe, even if his own back received its daily flogging.
The young man, who stood a silent spectator of this painful scene, understood everything from Toby's mourning. He knew that a boy had run away from the circus, for Messrs. Lord and Castle had stayed behind one day, in the hope of capturing the fugitive, and they had told their own version of Toby's flight.
For nearly an hour Toby lay by the dead monkey's side, crying as if his heart would break, and the young man waited until his grief should have somewhat exhausted itself, and then approached the boy again.
“Won't you believe that I didn't mean to do this cruel thing?” he asked, in a kindly voice. “And won't you believe that I would do anything in my power to bring your pet back to life?”
Toby looked at him a moment earnestly, and then said, slowly, “Yes, I'll try to.”
“Now will you come with me, and let me talk to you? For I know who you are, and why you are here.”
“How do you know that?”
“Two men stayed behind after the circus had left, and they hunted everywhere for you.”
“I wish they had caught me,” moaned Toby; “I wish they had caught me, for then Mr. Stubbs wouldn't be here dead.”
And Toby's grief broke out afresh as he again looked at the poor little stiff form that had been a source of so much comfort and joy to him.