Sure enough they did find his tracks in the roadway as far as the trap, but no further, which told them the animal was too smart to be caught by such a flimsy device.
Toby insisted on it that he had gone inside, because the bait had all vanished; but Max, having lifted the cage aside, showed that there was not a sign of the monkey's footprints there. On the other hand he told them the inside bait had plainly been devoured by little mice, for he showed them innumerable tracks made by their dainty feet.
So Toby declared that he was done.
"He's too cute for m-m-me, fellers, I admit," he said; "though if it wasn't for that fetching bait left by Mr. Jenks I'd k-k-keep on tryin' till I didn't know my own name. But now, Max, l-l-let 's g-g-get busy in earnest."
As he had promised them, Max would not draw back. The balance of the nut meat and some of the dried bread he put in a pannikin, and poured a portion of the contents of the bottle over the mess, until the liquid was soaked up.
This was done at a certain spot where they believed the monkey was most apt to show himself. Then the boys went away, one of them remaining on sentry duty at some little distance off, so as to give the signal should Link make his appearance.
The whole morning passed without the monkey showing up. Lunch had been served, and the one on duty relieved, so that he could take his turn at the rude table they had constructed near the tent.
Bandy-legs was the sentinel now, and would remain on post until about the middle of the afternoon, unless something happened to break the dreadful monotony.
It did.
About two o'clock Bandy-legs came running in, all out of breath, with the exciting news that the monkey had appeared, just as they hoped, and was even then busily engaged in disposing of the doped food as greedily as anything.