The Black Phantom

by Leo E. Miller

The cub was frightened at being so high above the ground; at the prodigious leaps taken by his abductor; at the strange calls of the birds and at the wind screeching through the branches; and at the hundred other new and terrifying things. When night came he was more frightened than ever. He wanted his mother. Why did she not come with the customary dainty for him? It was dry and cozy in the hollow in the giant cottonwood and he missed the daily game of rough and tumble. In the treetops it was cold and damp.

The monkey seemed to divine his thoughts but in reality was thinking only of her own comfort and safety. She chose a tall palm with spine-covered trunk and broad leaves for her sleeping place. And when she was snugly ensconced under the umbrella-like top which the rain could not penetrate Warruk was truly grateful for the warmth and shelter and promptly fell asleep. Once during the hours of darkness he awoke with a start; from below had come the sound of a familiar voice, faint but unmistakable. Myla too had been awakened and stirred uneasily. But as the sound was not repeated the monkey again slept while the cub felt a first, faint ray of hope and happiness, for he knew that his mother had not deserted him; in fact, was even then close at hand and would come to his assistance at the proper time.

All through the hours of night Myla hugged the little form close to her body. When he whimpered or struggled she quieted him by stroking his head and back, making soft, cooing sounds the while.

When daylight came the monkey again examined and admired her newly adopted little one. It was raining, as usual, and not until the day was well advanced did she venture from the protection afforded by the roof-like palm-leaves overhead. Even then she did not leave from choice. Grim necessity drove her from her snug retreat—the necessity of procuring food. And as for Warruk, he was so hungry he could think of nothing else. He forgot his great fear, his resentment toward his captor, even his longing for his mother; what he wanted more than anything else in the world was something to eat. Never had he been so famished.

Myla knew where a clump of wild figs were bending under their burden of ripe fruit and she hastened to the spot. The wild fig was a terrible thing. It started as a slender creeper feeling its way toward the light above the vast expanse of forest roof, clinging lightly to the trunk of some tall, sturdy tree. As it climbed, stealthily, like a viper stealing upon its victim, it sent out slender tendrils that completely encircled its support; and when its crown reached the bright sunlight high above the ground the slender stem quickly thickened to massive proportions and the tendrils widened into bands like steel that tightened and strangled the life out of the helpless tree. Then the fig blossomed and brought forth its small, red fruit.

Myla was fond of the juicy berries; so were the other members of her tribe and the bird hosts including even some of the flycatchers. Reaching the feeding place, the monkey climbed nimbly into the branches, venturing as far as she dared; then she reached out with one hand and drew the springy tips of the limbs toward her, picking the luscious morsels with her mouth.

Warruk watched her eat and knew what she was doing. When he whimpered suggestively she pulled down a branch very low and waited for him to eat. But the food was unknown to him so he ignored it. Myla seemed offended at his refusal and proceeded to devour the berries without ceremony.

An hour later the monkey’s sharp eyes detected the nest of a toucan made in the hollow of a thick branch. An opening much like the doorway to a woodpecker’s abode led into a spacious cavity on the bottom of which reposed two fat, ugly fledgelings. As yet their bodies were naked excepting only for dark rows of pin feathers bursting through their sheathes; and their bills were very short instead of long and thick like those of their elders.

When the monkey, after peering intently into the opening for some time finally reached into it and drew out one of the struggling young birds, Warruk’s interest was aroused at once. He made a lunge for it and seizing it in his mouth growled so menacingly while his claws dug deeply in Myla’s side that she hastened to put him down on the branch while she withdrew a short distance to watch the proceedings. Free of his captor the cub crouched low and greedily devoured the prize while Myla hopped up and down excitedly and screeched and chattered her opinion of the unexpected sight. The parent birds, feeding in a nearby tree, heard the commotion and surmised that it spelled disaster for their brood. They stopped plucking fruits with their long beaks and tossing them into their throats and flew heavily to their nesting tree. The spectacle that greeted their eyes filled them with consternation. They rattled and clattered their horny mandibles and yelped dog-like while they swung about the branches like the accomplished acrobats they were. Their cries of distress brought others of their tribe from a distance who lent their voices to the din until the treetops were filled with a screeching, whirling mob.

This demonstration unnerved the monkey. She snatched up the cub still clinging to his unfinished meal, and darted away at breakneck speed. Her show of fright gave courage to the toucans. They immediately took up the pursuit, their white throats flashing a sharp contrast to their black bodies as they hurtled after the fleeing monkey, easily keeping pace with her and nipping her ears and back and tail. At each pinch Myla emitted a scream and increased her speed until she seemed to fly through the branches handicapped though she was by the cub securely tucked under one arm. And Warruk, unable to fathom the new calamity that had befallen him, clung to the half-devoured bird with his teeth and to the monkey with his claws as they skimmed through space until their tormentors gave up the chase and returned to their own affairs.