The sounds welled up from the hole they had dug, and there was some sort of movement down there.
"Oh! let's h-h-hurry and g-g-get him fastened to this chain!" Toby was crying. "He might j-j-jump out any minute unless we're c-c-careful. Max, have you thought about the l-l-lantern like you said you would?"
"It's here, all right," replied the other; "now, surround the pit, while I light up, so we can see how to get the old sinner out."
Accordingly they formed what Steve called "a hollow square" around the hole in the ground, out of which was coming that series of discordant squeals; but in Toby's ears no music could ever sound sweeter, for did they not mean a clever victory over the shrewdest of wild animals, an educated monkey?
Max had matches along, for a box had been fastened to the lantern, so that no unnecessary delay might be encountered should they want to do things in haste, and light was needed.
When he had applied one of these to the wick, and turned down the globe, Max swung the lantern around, and then held it over the edge of the pit very cautiously, for fear lest he further excite the occupant.
Then they all stared down, expecting to see a shrinking monkey looking helplessly up at them, cowed by his capture. The squealing had suddenly ceased as the lantern light began to fall into the hole; they could already distinguish a form in the pit; and just then a plain, unmistakable grunt smote their ears.
"Oh! my s-s-stars!" gasped Toby, plainly astounded and disgusted.
Steve gave a shout, and then laughed with all his might.
"Why, what's this?" exclaimed Bandy-legs, looking again, "only a plain old hog instead of a chattering monk? Say, this is a good one on us, fellers. Has it been this rooter and grunter that's been bothering us right along? Somebody kick me, won't you, please?"