“Try not to think of that now, but think of yourself and of what you will do,” said the man, soothingly, anxious to divert Toby's mind from the monkey's death as much as possible.
“I don't want to think of myself, and I don't care what I'll do,” sobbed the boy, passionately.
“But you must; you can't stay here always, and I will try to help you to get home, or wherever it is you want to go, if you will tell me all about it.”
It was some time before Toby could be persuaded to speak or think of anything but the death of his pet; but the young man finally succeeded in drawing his story from him, and then tried to induce him to leave that place and accompany him to town.
“I can't leave Mr. Stubbs,” said the boy, firmly; “he never left me the night I got thrown out of the wagon an' he thought I was hurt.”
Then came another struggle to induce him to bury his pet; and finally Toby, after realizing the fact that he could not carry a dead monkey with him, agreed to it; but he would not allow the young man to help him in any way, or even to touch the monkey's body.
He dug a grave under a little fir tree near by, and lined it with wild flowers and leaves, and even then hesitated to cover the body with the earth. At last he bethought himself of the fanciful costume which the skeleton and his wife had given him, and in this he carefully wrapped his dead pet. He had not one regret at leaving the bespangled suit, for it was the best he could command, and surely nothing could be too good for Mr. Stubbs.
Tenderly he laid him in the little grave, and, covering the body with flowers, said, pausing a moment before he covered it over with earth, and while his voice was choked with emotion: “Goodby, Mr. Stubbs, goodby! I wish it had been me instead of you that died, for I'm an awful sorry little boy, now that you're dead!”
Even after the grave had been filled, and a little mound made over it, the young man had the greatest difficulty to persuade Toby to go with him; and when the boy did consent to go at last he walked very slowly away, and kept turning his head to look back just so long as the little grave could be seen.
Then, when the trees shut it completely out from sight, the tears commenced again to roll down Toby's cheeks, and he sobbed out: “I wish I hadn't left him. Oh, why didn't I make him lie down by me? an' then he'd be alive now; an' how glad he'd be to know that we was getting out of the woods at last!”