And so the three monkeys began to quarrel and dispute. Words led to blows, and soon they were tumbling about all over the car of the balloon, biting, scratching, and pummelling while the captain sat in his chair and bawled to them to stop. Every minute it seemed as though the car would overturn, and the end of it was that Little James got pushed over the side. He turned a beautiful somersault, and fell down, down, down through the air, landing in a soft bed of mud, into which he sank so that only his face and the top of his yellow cranium were visible.
“Help! help!” bawled Little James at the top of his voice.
Up ran a pair of monkeys belonging to the neighbourhood and stood looking at him.
“He’s in the mud, brother,” said one.
“Up to his neck,” said the other. “How silly!” And they both began to grin.
“Help!” cried Little James again, more faintly, for he was sinking deeper, and the mud was nearly at the level of his mouth. “Pull me out! Pull me out!”
“Ah, but how?” asked the first monkey, looking at him gravely.
“Wait a minute,” cried the second, “I have an idea!” and he pulled out of his pocket one of those leather suckers on a string which boys use to lift stones. Moistening the disc, he clapped it on to Little James’s head, and began to tug on the cord with all his might.
“Hey!” cried the other monkey, running to help. “Pull, brother, pull, and we’ll soon have him out!”