The Indians watched us attentively, and then nodding their beads, began to talk together. They soon seemed to be agreed as to what we wanted, and signing to us to remain quiet, one of them again crept cautiously towards the monkeys, still frisking about within sight, while the other sat down with Arthur and me. We eagerly watched the Indian. He first selected an arrow, the point of which he scraped slightly and wetted. Presently he placed his blow-pipe within the loop of a sipo.
“Why, he’s going to kill one of the poor creatures after all!” exclaimed Arthur.
“It looks very like it,” I answered. “But we shall see.”
The Indian waited for a few seconds, and then out flew his tiny dart with a loud pop. One of the monkeys was hit. “Oh dear! oh dear!” cried Arthur. “They could not have understood us.” The monkey had been struck when hanging to one of the lower branches; it fell before it had time to save itself with its long tail, and the Indian instantly springing forward, caught it, and pulled out the dart. He then took something out of the bag hanging at his waist, and put it into its mouth, which he kept closed to prevent it from spluttering it out. The poor creature seemed so stunned or bewildered by its fall, and at finding itself suddenly in the grasp of a strange being twenty times its own size, that it made no resistance. The Indian brought it to us in his arms, much as a nurse carries a baby, and showed us that it was not much the worse for its wound. As we went along we observed that its eyes, which were at first dim, had quickly recovered their brightness, while its tail began to whisk about and coil itself round the native’s arm. We were at a loss to account for the wonderful way in which it had so speedily recovered; nor did the Indians seem disposed to tell us their secret.
“I should so like to carry the little creature, it seems already so tame and gentle,” said Arthur.
“You had better not take it from the Indian, or it may give you an ugly bite, and be off and up a tree in a twinkling,” I answered. “It has no cause to love us as yet, at all events.”
Arthur still insisting that he could carry the monkey, asked the Indian to let him have it. The native shook his head, and signified that the monkey would to a certainty escape if he did. At last, however, he and his companion stopped, and fastened the creature’s tail tightly to its back, then they wound a quantity of fibre round its front paws, and finally put a muzzle over its mouth. “There; you may manage to carry him now,” they seemed to say. “But take care, he may slip out of his bonds even yet, if you do not hold him fast.”
The monkey glanced up at the countenance of Arthur, who looked down kindly at the creature, and carried it gently so as not to hurt it.
“I should like to give it a name,” he said; “something appropriate.”
“We will consult Ellen on that important matter,” I answered. “When she sees how active it is, I think she will call it Nimble.”