“True; and Ralph a naturalist, which is the strangest beast of all,” added Peterkin.—“Can you tell me, Ralph, by the way, what tree that is?”
“I’m sure I cannot tell. Never saw or heard of one like it before,” I replied, looking at the tree referred to with some interest. It was a fine tree, but the great beauty about it was the gorgeous fruit with which it was laden. It hung in the form of bunches of large grapes, and was of the brightest scarlet colour. The glowing bunches seemed like precious gems glittering amongst the green foliage, and I observed that a few monkeys and several parrots were peeping at us through the branches.
“It seems good for food,” said Jack. “You’d better climb up, Peterkin, and pull a few bunches. The puggies won’t mind you, of course, being one of themselves.”
“Ralph,” said Peterkin, turning to me, and deigning no reply to Jack, “you call yourself a naturalist; so I suppose you are acquainted with the habits of monkeys, and can turn your knowledge to practical account.”
“Well,” I replied, “I know something about the monkey tribes, but I cannot say that at this moment I remember any particular habit of which we might avail ourselves.”
“Do you not? Well, now, that’s odd. I’m a student of nature myself, and I have picked up a little useful knowledge in the course of my travels. Did you ever travel so far as the Zoological Gardens in London?”
“Of course I have done so, often.”
“And did you ever observe a peculiar species of monkey, which, when you made a face at it, instantly flew into a towering passion, and shook the bars of its cage until you expected to see them broken?”
“Yes,” said I, laughing; “what then?”
“Look here, you naturalist, and I’ll put a wrinkle on your horn. Yonder hangs a magnificent bunch of fruit that I very much desire to possess.”