There followed the age old drama of a boy with something in his possession and a monkey who wants it. The monkey had been someone’s pet. For this reason he did not have the fear of humans that possesses a wild monkey. Yet these children were strangers. More than that, two were white. His master had beyond doubt been a dusky native. He was in no hurry to come down. He came one branch at a time with many a backward look. More than once he paused to polish his diamond and wink.
“We’ll get him,” said Johnny half beside himself with suppressed excitement. “You’ll see! He’ll come.”
He was coming. Little by little, branch by branch, he came. Now he was half way down, now three quarters. Now he was five yards away, now four, three, two. He stared wistfully at the banana held high.
Then, of a sudden, with a speed that was astonishing, he leaped.
Not upon another branch did he land, nor upon the ground, but squarely on the top of Johnny’s head.
So surprised was Johnny that he jumped and yelled.
Came a snatching at his hand, then monkey and banana were gone—gone not up but down.
Leaping to the top of the ledge the monkey paused for a second to place the banana between his teeth, then without so much as a backward look, lowered himself over the precipice and was gone.
Throwing herself flat on the ground, then crawling slowly forward until the steep surface of the cliff was within her view, Doris watched him throw himself from fissure to fissure and from one narrow ledge to the next.
“He’ll be killed,” she said breathlessly.