The monkeys are particularly fond of these crabs, which live in deep holes in the sand, but spend much of their time on the outside of their holes, where they run and hop about. They range in size from that of a silver dollar to that of our edible crabs. Their claws are not large, but have a grip that is vise-like. The monkeys make daily raids on the haunts of these crabs, and occasionally succeed—by creeping stealthily to within a few feet of a group of them and then springing down upon them—in capturing one. Usually, however, the crabs are so wary that while the monkey is in the air during his spring toward them they have separated and disappeared into the ground. The monkey finding himself too slow to make a capture, then resorts to a bit of strategy to secure a dinner; he backs himself up to a hole into which a crab has disappeared, and sitting down, thrusts his long tail into the hole. The crab seizes the end of the tail the moment it approaches near enough. Any one who may have been fortunate enough to hide himself in the bushes unobserved by the monkey making a raid, will have a hard time to restrain his laughter when the critical moment of contact between the crab's claw and the monkey's tail is reached. There is a look of comical suspense on the monkey's face as he thrusts his tail in the hole. When the crab closes on the tail the look of suspense departs. The monkey gives an involuntary start, and then settles on his haunches while he closes his teeth together with a determined air, and eventually, springing forward, out comes the tail from the hole with the crab dangling to it, and the monkey is soon proceeding with his meal.”
“Here's another story,” said George, “which is old but good: 'A Spanish mule-driver once invested his scant earnings, purchasing a number of red woolen caps, which form the crown of the turban worn throughout Turkey and Africa, and set out to make his fortune in the interior.
He started before sunrise, and, when the heat of the day came on, lay down to sleep beneath a tree in a wood. Taking off his hat he opened his valise, and, putting on a red cap, was soon asleep.
“'When the sun was low in the horizon he awoke, and to his horror, saw the trees tilled with monkeys in red raps. They had seen the Spaniard put on the red cap before going to sleep, and followed his example. The poor Spaniard, with all the gesticulation peculiar to his country, stamped his foot in anger, and tearing off his red cap threw it on the ground, when—blessed and unexpected result—all the monkeys followed his example. He picked up his caps and moved on.'”