Summer of the Monkeys (27 page)

I hadn’t taken ten steps when I thought I heard something. I stopped and listened. I didn’t hear a thing. I looked at Rowdy.

Usually, if anything made a racket, Rowdy would hear it and he’d let me know. His ears would stand straight up and he’d point his nose in the direction of the sound.

In a low voice, I said, “Rowdy, I thought I heard something. Did you hear anything?”

If Rowdy had heard anything, he sure wasn’t letting me know it. He was just sitting there on the cold ground, looking at me, and wagging his muddy tail.

With his friendly old eyes, he was trying to tell me, “No, I didn’t hear anything. I wasn’t listening for anything. Let’s get out of these cold, wet bottoms and go home where it’s warm and dry.”

I decided I had just imagined hearing something, and once again I started for home. I hadn’t taken three steps when I heard the noise again. That time there was no doubt I had heard something. It was a low, whimpering cry and sounded like a small animal suffering.

Rowdy had heard the noise, too. His ears were sticking straight up and he was looking toward my right. I could see his nose twitching as he sniffed for the scent.

“What was that, Rowdy?” I whispered. “It sure didn’t sound like a monkey. It sounded more like a little animal that’s been hurt. Let’s see if we can find it, and maybe we can help it.”

With Rowdy in the lead, we started working our way toward the sound. We had gone about two hundred yards when I stopped again to listen. For several seconds, I didn’t hear a thing. Then I heard the low, pitiful cry.

“Rowdy,” I said in a whisper, “whatever that is, it must be suffering. I bet that storm blew down a den tree that had some baby coons in it and one of them got hurt.”

Again Rowdy and I started boring our way through the underbrush in the direction of the cry. We had worked our way to the bank of a deep washout when I stopped and listened.

I heard the cry again and I could tell that it was coming from down in the washout. Catching hold of a tall cane growing on the bank, I bent it down and used it like a rope to let myself down to the bottom.

I could see a lot farther in the washout. No underbrush or trees grew there—just bunches of grass, cattails, and ferns.

I stood still for a moment. When I didn’t hear anything, I whooped. I was answered by that low cry. By the sound of it, I could tell that I was close to whatever was making it.

I walked up the washout about a hundred yards and stopped to listen. When I heard the cry that time, I almost jumped out of my britches. It was coming from right behind me.

I turned around. At first, I couldn’t see anything. Then I saw a small pocket under the bank. Rushing water had made the hole a long time ago.

Mumbling to myself, I said, “Whatever it is that’s crying must be under that bank. That’s the only place it could be.”

I eased over to the side of the washout, dropped to my hands
and knees, and looked under the bank into the pocket. I almost screamed. I was looking right in Jimbo’s face. I just knew he would come boiling out from under that bank and jump right in my face—but he didn’t.

Jimbo didn’t move or make a sound. He just looked at me and batted his eyes as if he were very sleepy. He was sitting there with his back against the wet, cold bank. All the little monkeys were there, too. They were huddled up against his body as close as they could get—trying to keep warm. He had his long arms wrapped around his little friends as if he were protecting them.

Right away, I saw that the monkeys were in terrible shape. They were sopping wet and their small bodies were quivering from the cold.

“Holy smokes, Jimbo!” I said. “What are you doing in there? The storm’s over. You’ve got to get out of that cold place and start moving around. If you don’t, you’re not going to make it. Come on, let me help you.”

Jimbo didn’t move. All he did was open his big mouth and utter that low, pitiful cry.

I felt sorry for the monkeys and wanted to help them, but I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid they would jump on me.

One little monkey looked as if he were already on his way to monkey heaven. He was off a little to one side, stretched out on the cold ground. At first, I thought he was dead. Then I saw his tiny mouth open as if he were gasping for breath.

I couldn’t stand it. I almost cried.

Before I realized what I was doing, I reached in, caught hold of the little monkey’s hind legs, and pulled him out from under the bank. Taking my handkerchief, I started drying him off. I laid him down on his back and started rubbing and working his legs.

I almost rubbed all the hair off that monkey, but I must have been doing a pretty good job, because about five minutes later, the little fellow started moving. He even squeaked a few times.

Still holding the little monkey in my arms, I eased over and started talking to Jimbo.

“Come on, Jimbo,” I said. “Bring your little friends and let’s go down where the sun is shining. They can dry out there and get warm.”

Jimbo looked at me and then he looked at the little monkey I was holding in my arms.

I started rubbing the little monkey and talking to it. “It looks like you’re going to make it now, little fellow,” I said. “It’s a good thing I found you when I did.”

Jimbo must have realized that Rowdy and I meant him no harm. He came out from under the bank.

The little monkeys started crying. They didn’t want Jimbo to leave them.

I set the little monkey down on the ground. Then I stood up and watched to see what would happen.

Rowdy came over and started licking the little monkey with his warm tongue. The little monkey seemed to like it. He closed his eyes and let Rowdy wash away.

For a few seconds, Jimbo stood there watching Rowdy. Then he did something that almost paralyzed me. He shuffled over to me, caught hold of my overalls, climbed up into my arms, and laid his head on my shoulder.

I swallowed a big lump that had crawled up in my throat, and put my arms around his cold, wet body. I started talking to him.

“Everything will be all right, Jimbo,” I said. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of you. Let’s get your little friends from under that bank and take them down to where the sun is shining, so they can dry out and get warm.”

I set Jimbo on the ground, went over to the pocket, and got down on my knees. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as I reached back under the bank and got hold of a monkey. I just knew that some needle-sharp teeth would sink into my hand, but
nothing happened. The monkeys must have been too cold and stiff. There was no bite left in them.

Jimbo watched every move I made, but he made no effort to jump on me. He seemed to realize that I was trying to help his little friends.

Five times I reached under the bank and pulled out a little monkey. They were in worse shape than I had thought. They sat where I put them down—all humped up, crying and shivering.

Talking to myself, I said, “I think that’s about all I can carry at one time.”

Gathering the little monkeys in my arms, I started in a dog trot down the washout to a patch of sunshine I had noticed. Rowdy and Jimbo came with me. About thirty minutes later, I had all of them drying out in the sun.

I had kept count as I made each trip with an armload of monkeys. I could hardly believe it. There were twenty-eight of the little fellows and Jimbo—twenty-nine in all.

In no time at all, the warm rays of the sun had the monkeys pretty well dried out. I picked up one little fellow and rubbed his fur with my hand. He was as dry as Grandma’s yarn.

The monkeys made no effort to bite either Rowdy or me. I couldn’t understand it. In fact, they seemed to be happy that we were there. I could pick one up and pet it any time I wanted and it wouldn’t bite me. The storm and the terrible night must have had something to do with it.

I was pretty sure if I could get Jimbo to go with me, I’d have no trouble with the little monkeys. They would follow him and that was just what I wanted. I decided I’d give it a try.

Taking Jimbo’s paw in my hand, I said, “Come on, Jimbo, let’s go to the house. We have a good corn crib that’s warm and dry. I think you and your little friends will like it. It’ll sure beat those cold, wet bottoms. You’ll have plenty to eat, too. I promise you that.”

Jimbo must have understood me, or had already made up his mind to come along willingly. He made no trouble at all.

We climbed out of the washout and started down a game trail. I was afraid to look back to see if the little monkeys were following. If they didn’t follow us, there was nothing I could do about it just then—absolutely nothing.

We hadn’t gone far when a little monkey came zipping by us. With his skinny tail high in the air, he took off down the game trail as fast as he could run. The first thing I knew, the monkeys were all around us: in the underbrush on both sides of the trail, swinging through the trees, and hopping along on the trail.

They were following us. I couldn’t help grinning to myself.

“Boy, boy,” I said in a low voice, “if my luck will just hold out, I’ll have my pony and gun.”

I could almost feel them in my hands.

I was within a hundred yards of the house when Daisy came out on the porch. At first, she just stood there leaning on that old crutch of hers. I saw her close her eyes, shake her head, and then very slowly open her eyes again.

She started yelling, “Mama! Mama! Come and look! Hurry, Mama! You won’t believe it! Jay Berry’s coming home with a thousand monkeys.”

I’d never seen twenty-nine monkeys grow into a thousand so fast.

Mama came flying out of the house. She had a tea kettle in her hand. I saw her mouth open and I thought she was going to say something, but she must have lost her voice because I didn’t hear her say a thing.

I really couldn’t blame Mama for being so surprised at what she was seeing. It’s not every day that a boy comes home holding hands with a chimpanzee, and with twenty-eight little monkeys hopping around all over the place. Things like that just don’t happen every day.

“Don’t just stand there,” I yelled. “Somebody—go and open the corn-crib door for me.”

Mama and Daisy started running at the same time. Mama still had the tea kettle in her hand. I had never seen my little sister run so fast. That old crutch of hers didn’t seem to touch the ground at all.

I saw Papa come to the door of the blacksmith shop. He must have been sharpening something because he had a file in his hand. For a second or two, he just stood there, looking at me and all those monkeys. Then he dropped the file and came toward us in a long lope.

Mama and Daisy were standing off to one side of the corn crib when I came walking up. I couldn’t help but smile at the look on their faces. I could see that Mama wasn’t looking at me. She had her eyes glued on Jimbo. She was still holding the tea kettle in her hand.

“Jay Berry,” she said in a frightened voice, “that thing’s not a monkey. It looks like a young gorilla. You be careful.”

“Aw, Mama,” I said as I reached down and picked Jimbo up in my arms, “he’s not a gorilla. He’s a monkey and he’s as tame as Old Rowdy is. Can’t you see that he’s not going to hurt anything?”

“No, I can’t see!” Mama said in a loud voice. “Have you forgotten the day you and Rowdy came in, bitten all over?”

“That wasn’t their fault, Mama,” I said. “That was our fault, mine and Rowdy’s. They thought we were going to hurt them. That’s why they bit us.”

“Jay Berry,” Mama said in a firm voice, “I don’t care what you say, you put that monkey, or whatever it is, in the corn crib this minute. Lock the door and keep it locked!”

“Aw, Mama,” I said as I started toward her with Jimbo still in my arms. “Why don’t you pet him a little? Then you’ll see how friendly he is and you won’t be scared of him. He won’t hurt you.”

I had never seen my mother move backward so fast. Her face turned as white as a hen’s egg.

“Jay Berry Lee,” Mama yelled, “you get that thing away from me. I don’t want it close to me. If you don’t, you’re going to get the whipping of your life, and I mean it.”

From the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes, I knew she meant what she said.

“Aw, Mama,” I said, “I don’t see why you’re so scared of Jimbo. He’s not going to hurt you.”

Just then Daisy came over to me and said, “Jay Berry, do you think Jimbo would let me pet him?”

“Sure,” I said. “Do you want to hold him?”

Daisy nodded her head and held out her arms.

I passed Jimbo over to her. He wrapped his long arms around her neck and whimpered as if his feelings had been hurt.

Turning her head to look at Mama, Daisy said, “Oh, Mama, he’s such a friendly little thing.”

Seeing Daisy with Jimbo in her arms did Mama more good than anything. She lost a lot of her scare; but not quite all of it.

She said, “It does look like he’s friendly. I didn’t know monkeys got that big.”

Papa came over. “How did you catch them?” he asked. “It couldn’t have been very hard. You weren’t down in the bottoms long.”

“I can’t understand it, Papa,” I said. “I didn’t have any trouble at all. I think they wanted to be caught. They sure acted like they did.”

I told Papa everything that had happened from the time Rowdy and I entered the bottoms until I found the monkeys under the bank.

Papa said, “I think that storm had more to do with your catching them than anything else. These monkeys are tame. They’ve lived in cages all their lives. They’ve never been out in a storm like
that and it probably scared them half to death. It’s no wonder they wanted to be caught.”

“It’s a good thing that Jimbo knew where that hole was,” I said. “I don’t think they could’ve made it through that storm if they’d stayed in the trees. They almost didn’t make it anyhow.”

I turned around to see what the little monkeys were doing. I couldn’t see one anywhere. I got scared. I just knew they had gone back to the river bottoms.

“Where did the little monkeys go?” I shouted.

Papa laughed and said, “They all hopped up in the corn crib.”

I hurried to the door of the corn crib and looked in. The little monkeys were sitting all over the place. Each one was holding a big ear of corn. They were tearing at the shucks with their needle-sharp teeth.