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Title: The Monkey That Would Not Kill
Author: Henry Drummond
Illustrator: Louis Wain
Release Date: June 27, 2009 [EBook #29254]
Language: English
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[Illustration: THE MONKEY THAT WOULD NOT KILL
by Henry Drummond]
THE MONKEY THAT WOULD NOT KILL
[Illustration: WITH THE STONE IN HIS ARMS HE WALKED CALMLY
TOWARDS THE SHORE]
THE MONKEY
THAT WOULD NOT KILL
BY
HENRY DRUMMOND
With Sixteen Full-page Illustrations
BY
LOUIS WAIN
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1915
_Copyright, 1897,_
By Dodd, Mead and Company.
PREFACE
A few years ago, the readers of "Wee Willie Winkie" detected a new vein
running through the Editorial Notes and announcements which prefaced the
monthly collection of juvenile literary efforts, which made up their
little Magazine.
There was an originality and a humour which they had not noticed before,
and Competitions were suggested to them of a type for a repetition of
which they clamoured.
And then presently a new serial story began, and the hairbreadth escapes
of that immortal Monkey which it recorded were breathlessly followed by
Wee Willie Winkie's army of bairns all over the world; and when it was
concluded, so numerous were the entreaties for a sequel, that compulsion
had to be resorted to in order to secure the revelation of the later
life of the hero under a new name.
And now at last the Editors who were responsible for the periodical
referred to have to make a confession.
Once upon a time they both, mother and daughter, forsook their office
and went away to Canada for several months in 1891, and during that time
their joint editorial chair was occupied by no other than Professor
Henry Drummond.
And now our readers will understand to whom they are indebted for the
quaint sayings and funny stories and Competitions betokening someone who
"understood" boys--and girls too. And they will be grateful to a certain
contributor who failed to send his copy in time for the monthly issue on
one occasion, and so forced the then Editor to sit down and write
"something." It was the first time he had ever tried to write fiction,
and as the story grew under his pen, he began to realise the joy of
creation. And so it was that, in spite of his playful deprecation of
"such nonsense" being printed, the adventures of "the Monkey that would
not kill" came to be told, and we know that we can do our old friends
and readers no greater kindness than to dedicate these chronicles to
them in permanent form, in memory of one to whom "Wee Willie" and his
bairns were ever a subject of affectionate interest.
ISHBEL ABERDEEN,
MARJORIE A. H. GORDON,
_Editors of_ "_Wee Willie Winkie_."
Government House, Ottawa,
_November, 1897_.
CONTENTS
I
PAGE
THE MONKEY THAT WOULD NOT KILL 1
II
GUM 57
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
WITH THE STONE IN HIS ARMS HE WALKED
CALMLY TOWARDS THE SHORE _Frontispiece_
PAGE
TRICKY UPSET EVERYTHING 5
NEXT MORNING TRICKY WAS STILL THERE 13
IT WAS ONLY TRICKY SHAKING THE SALT-WATER OFF 17
HE BEGAN WITH THE PARROT 21
THE SHEPHERD BOLTED LIKE WILDFIRE 25
ALL WAS READY 33
HE TOOK MONKEY AND STONE AND HEAVED THEM OVER
THE CLIFF 43
TRICKY HELD BACK THE BABY 55
THE MONKEY'S RESCUE 63
A MONKEY PERFORMING GYMNASTIC EXERCISES 71
BURIED HIS TEETH IN THE CONDUCTOR'S WRIST 77
THE NUGGET OF GOLD 85
POINTING A LOADED REVOLVER AT HIS HEAD 89
THE CAN OF GUNPOWDER TIED TO HIS TAIL 103
THE MOST PRECIOUS OF ALL IS GUM 113
CHAPTER I
There is no such thing as an immortal monkey, but this monkey was as
near it as possible. Talk of a cat's nine lives--this monkey had ninety!
A monkey's business in the world is usually to make everybody merry, but
the special mission of this one, I fear, was to make everybody as angry
as ever they could be. In wrath-producing power, in fact, this monkey
positively shone.
How many escapes the monkey had before the run-away slave presented it
to the missionary--from whom I first heard of it--no one knows. It
certainly had not much hair on when it arrived, and there was an ominous
scar on its head, and its ears were not wholly symmetrical. But the
children were vastly delighted with it, and after much kind treatment
the creature was restored to rude health, and, I must confess, to quite
too rude spirits. The children wanted him baptized by the time-honoured
title of 'Jacko'; but by a series of exploits in which the monkey
distinguished himself at the expense of every member of the household in
turn, it became evident that only one name would fit a quadruped of his
peculiar disposition; and that was 'Tricky.' Tricky, therefore, he was
called, and as Tricky he lived and--did _not_ die.
[Illustration: TRICKY UPSET EVERYTHING]
There was no peace in the home after Tricky came. He ate everything,
upset everything, broke everything, stole everything, did everything
that the average monkey ought not to do. If they shut him up in a room,
Tricky got out by the chimney. If they put him out of the room, Tricky
came in by the chimney. What could you do with such a creature? He could
not be kept in, and he could not be kept out; so a court-martial was
held, and Tricky was sentenced to be given away.
But by this time the whole place knew Tricky, and no one would have him.
Such an unusual refusal of a present was never known before. Even the
run-away slave smiled sweetly when his old friend was offered to him,
and protested that, to his deep regret, he was unable to buy nuts enough
to keep him.
The idea of 'wandering' Tricky in the woods, of course, occurred to the
genius of the village, and a detachment of boys set off one Saturday to
carry it into effect. But you might as well have tried to wander a
carrier pigeon. Like Mary's little lamb, everywhere these boys went,
that monkey went. When they ran, it ran, when they doubled back, it
doubled back; and when they got home, dead tired, it was only to find
Tricky laughing at them from the church roof.
That night the worst happened. When the people assembled for the weekly
meeting, there was not found in that church one whole hymn-book. Some
one, apparently, had been pelting the pulpit with them. The cushions
were torn; the blinds were a wreck; two stops in the harmonium were
pulled out bodily. After the service the missionary was solemnly waited
on by a deputation. They were closeted for an hour and a half, but no
one, except themselves, ever knew what was said or done. The only
circumstances that one could in any way connect with this mysterious
council was that about midnight a small boat was seen stealthily putting
out to sea. It contained two figures--one, who rowed, was the senior
elder; the other, who sat in the stern, looked like a very small boy.
CHAPTER II
The day was not yet broken when the 'watch' of the ship _Vulcan_, lying
becalmed off the ---- coast, was roused by a peculiar noise aft. Going
to the spot he was surprised to find a much-bedraggled monkey rubbing
itself on a pile of sail-cloth. The creature had evidently swum or
drifted a long distance, and was now endeavouring to restore
circulation. Jerry, being a humane man, got it some biscuit, and a
saucer of grog, and waited developments. These were not slow to show
themselves; within twenty-four hours the commander of the ship _Vulcan_,
740 tons register, was a monkey named Tricky.
Time would fail me to tell of the life that monkey led them all on board
the _Vulcan_. After the first week only two things lay between him and
death at any moment. One was his inventiveness. Tricky's wickedness was
nothing, if not original. Every day he was at some new villainy; and
anything _new_ on board ship is sacred. There is no _Punch_ published on
board ship; but Tricky was all the comic papers rolled into one. But
that was not the main reason. There is a good deal of quiet quarrelling
on board ship. The mate spared Tricky because he thought he would some
day give the Captain a 'turn'; the Captain let him live, hoping he would
do something dreadful to the mate. Everybody waited to see Tricky do
something to somebody else. So he rose to the highest rank in the
merchant-marine, and was respected almost to idolatry by all on board
the _Vulcan_.
One day Tricky was hanged--formally, deliberately, and judicially
hanged. What had he done? He had killed the ship cat. It was a
deliberate murder, with no extenuating circumstances, and a rope, with a
noose, was swung over the yard-arm, and Tricky run up in the presence of
all the crew. This happened about eight bells, and at dusk Tricky was
still hanging there, very quiet and motionless. Next morning Tricky was
still there--as live as you are. Tricky was not hanged, he was only
hanging; and, as everybody knows, monkeys rather like hanging. In fact,
though Tricky was still up there, he had got his hands well round the
rope, and was on the whole fairly at home. The rope round a neck like
Tricky's was a mere boa.
[Illustration: NEXT MORNING TRICKY WAS STILL THERE]
The executioners were rather ashamed of themselves when they saw how
matters stood; but instead of softening them, this dangling mockery of a
dead monkey still further roused their wrath, and the boatswain was told
off to end the drama by tossing Tricky into the sea. The boatswain was
up the shrouds in a moment, and loosening the rope with one hand, and
catching the monkey by the tail with the other, he swung poor Tricky a
good yard over the ship's side into the Atlantic.
When the boatswain descended upon the deck he was greeted with a sudden
deluge of rain. It was only Tricky shaking the salt-water off. The
monkey had climbed up the stern rope, and reached the deck before him.
What would have happened next is hard to predict, but at this point the
Captain, attracted by the scream of laughter which greeted the drenching
of the boatswain, came up and was told the sequel to the hanging. Now
the Captain was a blunt, good-natured man, and he avowed that neither
man nor monkey who had ever been hanged on board his ship should ever be
put to death again. This was the law on shore, he said, and he would see
fair-play. So Tricky received another lease of life, and thus the ship
_Vulcan_ was kept in hot water for two months more.
[Illustration: IT WAS ONLY TRICKY SHAKING THE SALT-WATER OFF]
About the end of that period there came a crisis. The ship was nearing
port, and a heavy cleaning was in progress. Among other things the
ship's boats had to be painted. In an evil hour one of the men went
below to dinner, and left his paint-pot standing on the deck. If Tricky
had lost such a chance he would not have been a monkey at all. Needless
to say he rose to the occasion. That his supreme hour was come was quite
evident from the way he set to work at once. He began with the parrot,
which he painted vermilion; then he passed the brush gaily along the
newly varnished wood-work--daubed the masts and shrouds all over,
obliterated the name on the life-buoys, and wound up a somewhat
successful performance by emptying the pot over the Captain's best coat,
which was laid in the sun to get the creases out.
I draw a veil over what happened on the _Vulcan_ during the next quarter
of an hour. There was never such a muster of the crew since they left
port: Everybody seemed to have business on deck. When the Captain came
up you could have heard a pin drop. I shall not repeat his language, nor
try to compare with anything earthly the voice with which he ordered
every man below. All I will record is--and it is to his everlasting
honour--that in that awful hour the Captain was true to his vow. 'Do you
see land?' he roared to the steersman. 'Aye, aye, sir,' said the man,
'land on the larboard bow.' 'Then,' said the Captain, 'put her head to
it.'
[Illustration: HE BEGAN WITH THE PARROT]
That night, late, the ship stood close in to a small island on the north
coast of Scotland, and a boat was solemnly sent ashore, and after that
Tricky was no more seen by any of the crew of the _Vulcan_.
CHAPTER III
The island on which the Captain of the _Vulcan_ exiled Tricky was marked
on the chart 'uninhabited.' But the chart was wrong. Ten years before, a
shepherd had come there, and now lived with his wife and family near the
top of the great sea-cliff. You may judge of the sensation when a real
live monkey appeared in the early morning in this remote and lonely
spot. The shepherd was watching his sheep when the apparition rose, as
it were, from the ground. He had never seen a monkey before, any more
than the sheep; and sheep and shepherd bolted like wildfire. Tricky, of
course, followed the biped, for he had always been accustomed to human
society; and, as the shepherd fled towards the hut, he saw the monkey
close at his heels. So he made a rush at the open door, and pulled it
after him with a bang which almost brought down the house.
[Illustration: THE SHEPHERD BOLTED LIKE WILDFIRE]
The fugitive had just got inside when, in a moment, he felt himself
seized from behind. It seemed as if a powerful hand was dragging him
backward, and he threw himself down on the ground, and roared with fear.
What had happened was that the flying end of his plaid had got jammed in
the door, but he felt sure the evil spirit was holding him in its
clutches, and it was some time before his startled wife could convince
him that there was nothing there. The good woman gathered him up, and
soothed him; and as soon as he could speak he told her in a shivering
voice about the awful monster which had come to slay them all. He had
scarcely got out the word 'monster,' when there was a scurrying in the
chimney, and the monster presented himself before them, and calmly sat
down on the meal-barrel. 'It's just a puggy!' cried the shepherd's wife
(she had been to Inverness), and began to stroke Tricky on the back. As
she did so, she noticed that the creature had a strand of an old ship's
rope round its neck, and to this was attached a small piece of paper.
She opened it and read four words, scrawled in a hasty hand:--
'Won't Hang.
Won't Drown.'
The shepherd seemed more frightened than ever at this revelation. 'Won't
hang, won't drown,' he muttered. 'Then, we'll see if it won't _shoot_,'
and he reached over the fireplace for the gun which he killed the
rabbits with. As he loaded it it seemed to the shepherd's wife as if all
the powder and shot in the house was being poured into the barrel. She
pleaded with her husband to spare Tricky's life, and it almost looked as
if she had succeeded, for the shepherd lowered the gun from his shoulder
and stood for a moment as if in doubt. But it was not because of his
wife he stopped. It was partly because he was quite too shaky to aim
straight; and partly because he was too much of a sportsman to shoot
offhand a thing which was sitting quiet and still on his own
meal-barrel; but the main reason was that he was afraid to shoot the
baby, whose crib was just beside it. So he gave the meal-barrel a kick
with his foot to dislodge the monkey. He thought it would make for the
door, and there, in the open air, he would shoot it fair and square.
But the monkey had other views. What it wanted was something to eat; and
the children's porridge being handy, it put its paw in and began
breakfast. The shepherd was too much petrified to interfere, and it was
only when Tricky next spilt the milk-jug over the baby that he roused
himself to do his duty to his family. He raised the gun once more, and,
watching his chance when Tricky was exactly opposite the door, aimed
straight at its heart, and pulled the trigger. Now, the next moment that
monkey ought to have been scattered all over the hillside in
multitudinous fragments. On the contrary, it was up on the table,
imitating the click of the gun with a spoon. Not that the shepherd
missed. For the first time in its life the rusty lock had 'struck,' and
the dazed shepherd was more than ever confirmed in his belief that the
monkey was a witch.
'Won't shoot,' he muttered to himself, 'won't hang, won't drown. I have
tried the first; I'll prove the next.' So, as he was too superstitious
to try to shoot it again, he went out to hang the monkey.
But there was no tree on the island. All day the shepherd searched for a
place to hang Tricky, but in vain. That night he lay thinking, hour
after hour, where he would hang it, and in the early morning an
inspiration came to him--he would try the pump! So he rose softly and
fixed the handle of the pump high in the air, so that it stuck out like
a gallows, and tied a rope with a noose to the end of it. Then he got
Tricky to perch on the top of the pump, tied the rope round his neck,
and all was ready. The shepherd had heard that the object of hanging was
to break the neck of the criminal by a sudden 'drop,' but as he could
not give Tricky a long enough drop he determined to make up for it in
another way. So he gathered all his strength, and with a tremendous
sweep of his arms sent Tricky flying into space. Of course you know what
happened. The rope--it was quite rotten--broke, and Tricky landed on his
four paws, and stood grinning at his executioner, as if he would like it
all over again.
[Illustration: ALL WAS READY]
That whole day the sheep and lambs on the Island of ---- were neglected.
All day long you might have seen the shepherd sitting by the marsh-side
plaiting something with his fingers. Round him, the ground was strewn
with rushes, some loose, and some in bundles, but for every one the
workman chose he threw away a hundred, because it was not tough and
strong. And as he plaited, and twisted, and knotted, and tested, there
was fire in the shepherd's eye, and thunder all over his face.
At daybreak next morning the shepherd and the monkey once more formed in
procession and wended their way to the old pump. The new rope could hang
an elephant. It was thick as a boa-constrictor, and the shepherd took a
full hour to adjust the noose and get the gallows into working order.
Then the fatal moment came. With a mightier shove than before the monkey
was launched into the air, and the rope stiffened and held like a ship's
hawser. But the executioner had not calculated everything. The rope and
the 'drop' were all right, but when the gallows felt the shock, the
pump-handle cracked off like a match, and the old moss-covered tube gave
two rocks and reeled from its moorings, and lay split in pieces on the
ground. Jagged and needlelike splinters at the same moment scraped and
pierced and gouged at the shepherd's shins, and tore his nether
garments, and made him dance with pain and rage. If anything could have
added more agony to the next few minutes it was the sight of Tricky.
That ever gay animal was careering down the hill straight towards the
feeding sheep. The pump-handle was still tied to its neck, and it
clattered over the stones with a noise weird enough to drive the whole
flock into the sea. The shepherd knew there must be a catastrophe, but
he was powerless to avert it. He was too sore to follow, so he slowly
limped towards the hut, to nurse his wrath and his wounds.
CHAPTER IV
For three days after the monkey had been 'hanged' it did not come near
the shepherd or his house. A monkey has feelings. To be nearly hanged is
bad enough, but to have a boa-constrictor and a pump-handle tied to your
neck is more than any self-respecting animal would stand. So Tricky
devoted himself exclusively to the sheep. For the space of three days,
with the invaluable aid of the pump-handle, Tricky shepherded that
flock. Not a blade of grass was nibbled during this period; one
prolonged stampede was kept up night and day. The lambs dropped with
hunger. The old sheep tottered with fatigue. The whole flock was
demoralised. In fact, when the 'Reign of Terror' closed there was not a
pound of sound mutton left on the island.
Why did not the shepherd interfere? Because, as we shall see, for these
three days he had more urgent work to do. When the shepherd's wife went
out to the pump that morning for water to make the porridge with, she
found it a heap of ruins. She came back and broke the tidings to the
shepherd, and said she believed it had been struck with lightning. The
shepherd discreetly said nothing, but presently stole sullenly out to
inspect the damage once more. It was worse than he thought. A pump must
hold in both air and water; this pump was rent and split in a dozen
places. There was no water either to drink or make the porridge with,
till the tube was mended. So all that day the shepherd was splicing, and
hammering, and gluing, and bandaging. All the next day he was doing the
same. He got nothing to eat or drink; nobody got anything to eat or
drink. The poor children were kept alive on a single bowlful, which
happened to be in the house, but this was now finished, and they were
crying out from want. Positively, if this drought and famine had been
kept up for a few days more the island would certainly have been
restored to the condition described on the chart--'uninhabited.'
On the morning of the fourth day the pump stood erect, and wind and
water-tight once more. Only one thing was wanting--there was no handle.
The only thing left was to try to catch Tricky, for there was nothing
else on the island which would make a handle. But just then Tricky
required no catching. At that moment he was sitting on the doorstep
contemplating the group round the pump. Everybody being out, he had
seized the opportunity to have a good breakfast--consisting of every
particle of meal in the barrel--and was now enjoying a period of repose
before recommencing hostilities. The shepherd made a rush at him, but,
alas, what he wanted was no longer there. A piece of frayed rope dangled
on its neck, but the pump-handle was gone.
It took two days more to find it. Every inch of the island was patiently
examined. Even the child next the baby had to join in the search. Night
and day they were all at it; and at last it was found by the shepherd's
wife--stuck in a rabbit-hole. All this time no one had leisure to kill
Tricky. But on the seventh day the shepherd rose with murder written on
his brow. The monkey would not shoot, and he would not hang; it remained
to try what drowning would do. So he tied a large stone round the
monkey's neck, and led him forth to the edge of the great sea-cliff.
[Illustration: HE TOOK MONKEY AND STONE AND HEAVED THEM OVER THE CLIFF]
A hundred feet below, the sea lay like a mirror; and the shepherd, as he
looked over for a deep place, saw the great fronds of the sea-weeds and
the jelly-fish and the anemones lying motionless in the crystal waters.
Then he took the monkey and the stone in his great hands, examined the
knots hastily, and, with one sudden swing, heaved them over the cliff.
The shepherd would much rather at this point have retired from the
scene. But he dared not. He could not trust that monkey. An actual
certificate of death was due to himself and to his family. So he peered
over the cliff and saw the splash in the sea, and watched the ripples
clearing off till the sea-bottom stood out again with every shell
distinct. And there, sure enough, was Tricky, down among the star-fish,
safely moored to his gravestone, and the yard of good rope holding like
a chain-cable. The shepherd rose for the first time since that monkey
set foot upon the island and breathed freely. Then he slowly went back
to the house and told the tale of the end of Tricky.
It was not till midnight that Tricky came back. Of course you knew
Tricky would come back. You knew the rope would slip over the stone, or
break, or be eaten through by a great fish, or something, and, though
none of these things happened, it is certainly true that that night at
midnight Tricky did turn up. Perhaps I should say turn down, for he came
in, as usual, by the chimney. But the exact way in which this singular
creature escaped from its watery grave must be reserved for another
chapter.
CHAPTER V
If the shepherd had stood looking over the cliff for one moment longer
he would have witnessed a curious scene. Every schoolboy knows that a
stone is lighter in water than in air. How the monkey knew this, or
whether he did or did not, it is impossible to say, but his actions were
certainly those of a philosopher. For, instead of resigning himself to
his fate, he bent down and grasped the stone which held him to his
watery grave, picked it up in his arms, and walked calmly along the
bottom towards the shore. With a supreme effort he next got the stone
edged on to a half-submerged ledge; but now that it was half out of the
water it was once more too heavy to lift, and Tricky lay in great
perplexity in the shallow water, wondering how ever he was to get out of
this fresh dilemma. There appeared nothing for it but to attack the rope
with his teeth, and for an hour Tricky worked at the tough strands, but
without almost any success. After another hour's work the monkey made an
appalling discovery. When he began work, the water was only up to his
knees; and to his consternation, it now covered him up to his middle. In
a short time more it came up to his neck, and it was clear to Tricky
that if the ledge went on sinking at this rate he was a dead monkey.
Tricky thought he knew all about the sea, but in the foreign sea, where
he had lived with the missionary, there were no tides, and this creeping
in of the water greatly disturbed his peace of mind. To his great joy,
however, he found that the stone, now wholly covered with water, was
once more light enough to lift, and he trundled it along the ledge till
the water became too shallow to move it further. Just above this point
was another ledge, high and dry above tide-mark, and the yard of rope
was just long enough to allow the monkey to take up his position there,
and shake himself dry in the sun.
Now, this shaking process suggested an idea to Tricky--a very obvious
one to you or me, but a real inspiration to a monkey. Tricky noticed
that the very part of the rope where he had been gnawing rested against
the sharp edge of the rocky ledge, and that one frayed strand had
suddenly parted while he was shaking himself. The rock-edge, in fact,
was a regular knife, and after much and hard rubbing, and many rests,
Tricky found himself within three or four strands of freedom. It was all
but midnight when the last strand parted, and in a few minutes more the
gallant monkey crawled up the cliff and stood once more at the door of
his executioner's house.
I am afraid you will be as much surprised as Tricky was at the startling
discovery he made when he got there. The cottage was on fire! For days,
you will remember, there had been no food in the shepherd's home. But
that day the family had celebrated the mending of the pump by a great
banquet and a washing. Such a fire was lit as had not blazed on the
hearth for years, and when it grew dark the red sparks flew into the air
and fell in dangerous showers upon the dry thatched roof. The wind, too,
rose about nightfall, and fanned one smouldering square of turf into
life; and when Tricky reached the spot at least half the roof was
already in a blaze. But Tricky was hungry after his day's adventures,
and the chimney end of the roof being still untouched by the fire, he
jumped on to the roof and down into the kitchen with a bound. The baby's
cradle lay, as usual, close to the side of the fire, and the monkey, in
passing, must have swished it with his tail, for the infant broke into a
sudden yell, which rang through the room, and woke the shepherd with a
start. The good man was awake not a moment too soon. Had the monkey
arrived five minutes later the whole family must have perished; the
smoke had already filled the other room, and was pouring in, in rolling
clouds, below the kitchen door. With one thunderstruck glare at the
night-watchman who had wakened him so opportunely--and who now occupied
his usual throne on the meal-barrel, violently sneezing out smoke, and
wondering whether it was not better to be drowned--the shepherd rushed
towards the door to save the two elder children who lay locked in
slumber in the burning room beyond. Seizing them in his arms, he bore
them safely to the open air, and then returned for his wife and the
other children. Tricky followed at their heels; and the next moment the
rescued family stood in a shivering group, helplessly watching the
flames. The roof soon fell in, and in the morning all that remained of
the shepherd's house was a few charred rafters.
* * * * *
On the spot where the shepherd's cottage was burned now stands a noble
lighthouse. It was put up a few months after the fire, and one of the
three lighthouse-keepers is the shepherd. The second is a man who is
fond of telling tales of the sea, and how he was once mate of a ship
called the _Vulcan_. The third keeper of the lighthouse is a quadruped
called Tricky. The affection between him and the ex-shepherd is
peculiar. Other people think there is some history connected with it,
but the shepherd never says much. When asked if it is really true that
the monkey cannot be killed, he always replies, 'Yes; but that is not
why it is alive.' Only on one occasion was the shepherd known to add
anything to that remark. It was one night when Tricky had held back the
baby--it had just learned to creep--from tumbling over the cliff. Then
the shepherd smiled as he threw Tricky a whole bagful of nuts, and said,
'That monkey won't kill--nor let anybody else kill.'
[Illustration: TRICKY HELD BACK THE BABY]
GUM
CHAPTER I
I suppose you thought the monkey I told you about before was dead. But
my opinion is that he is still alive. At least, I am pretty sure it is
the same monkey that I have now to tell you about, though I cannot be
quite sure. In the first place this new monkey was very like Tricky, and
in the second place it was a monkey that _would not kill_. Now, I never
heard before of any monkey that would not kill except one, and that was
Tricky.
Another thing that makes me think it is the same monkey, is that Tricky
disappeared from the island where we saw him last. No one knows how it
happened, but there was a coincidence about the time which I must
relate. One morning a boat's crew landed on the island where Tricky
lived with the lighthouse-keeper, to fill their water-kegs. The
lighthouse-keeper was kind to them, for they were foreigners, and showed
them all over the lighthouse, and when they got to the very top they
found the monkey dusting the lamps just like a human being. The sailors
were much astonished, and one of them, who could speak a little English,
wanted to buy Tricky for two pounds. When the lighthouse-keeper heard
this he was very angry, and ordered them all down the ladder. This made
the men angry in turn, for they did not know the reason why the
lighthouse-keeper loved the monkey, and they told him they would not
forget the way he had insulted them. Of course he had not insulted them
at all, but foreign sailors are sometimes quick-tempered, and these men
came from a country where slights are easily felt. The sailors spent the
whole day on shore, as the wind was unfavourable for getting out to sea,
but no one saw them enter the lighthouse again. Next morning, all that
the lighthouse-keeper saw of the sailors and their ship was the tips of
their top-gallants dipping over the horizon edge. And all that he saw of
the monkey that--would--not--kill, after searching night and day for a
week was--nothing.
CHAPTER II
Mr. Donald MacAlsh, gold-miner from Silver Creek, California, happening
to be in San Francisco, read one morning the following paragraph in the
_San Francisco Herald_:--
'Curious Tale of The Sea.--Captain J. E. Dawkins of the _Mermaid_,
which has just arrived in this port from Liverpool, reports a
singular occurrence. About ten days' out from home the look-out
observed what he took to be a great sea-serpent, but which, on
further inspection, turned out to be a quantity of wreckage. On
approaching the spot the figure of a boy was distinctly observed
clinging to the broken portion of a mast, and obviously still alive.
A small boat was instantly lowered, the ship's crew meantime making
signals to the boy to inform him that he was being rescued. After a
suspense of some half-hour the boat returned with the extraordinary
intelligence that the figure seen was not that of a boy, but of a
monkey. Search among the wreckage for human remains proved
unavailing, and it is feared that a serious catastrophe has
occurred. The only clue to the nationality of the vessel, which, it
is only too plain, has met with a disastrous fate, are the letters
"vorni" on a portion of what had evidently formed the bow of one of
the life-boats. Possibly these letters are part of "Livorni," the
Italian word for Leghorn, and the list of recent sailings from that
port is now being scrutinised with some anxiety.'
[Illustration: THE MONKEY'S RESCUE]
Now what interested Donald--'Big Donald,' he was always called--in this
story was not the monkey, but the arrival of the _Mermaid_. For the
Captain was a friend of his, and was bringing him some tools from home
in this very ship. Though 'Big Donald' was now a gold-miner, he came out
from Scotland when quite a lad. His father was a small farmer in Skye,
and, dying early, the family emigrated to America. As it was to get
these tools that Donald came in to San Francisco he soon found his way
to the harbour, and, finding out the _Mermaid_, walked on board. No one
was visible on deck, so Donald sat down on a coil of rope to wait. He
had not been there three minutes when a matted head and two very
brilliant eyes suddenly shot up the companion, and a full-grown monkey
sprang in front of him and stared into his face. Donald, much startled
by this apparition, called out in a loud voice for the creature to go
away; but the moment the words were spoken the monkey sprang on his back
and clasped its long hairy arms about his neck. The miner shook it off
in terror and tried to run ashore, but the monkey followed, frisking and
gambolling round him, and chasing him all over the quay. Donald soon
discovered, however, that the monkey meant no harm, and a few days later
an explanation of this sudden outburst of interest in a stranger--the
Captain told Donald that the monkey had never been known to behave like
this before--broke in upon the miner's mind. He remembered that when he
suddenly spoke to the monkey he had called to it _in Gaelic_. Under the
impulse of a sudden fear, I suppose, the language of his boyhood had
started to his lips, and the words came out unconsciously '_Imich air
falbh_,' which means 'Go away.' What made Donald remember the
circumstance was this, that whenever afterwards he used the Highland
tongue the monkey manifested peculiar signs of joy. The only way the
miner could account for this singular fact was to suppose that somehow
or other this monkey had once belonged to some one who used the Gaelic
language--a suggestion, however, which people generally laughed at. The
miner always maintained, nevertheless, that the monkey really knew
Gaelic, and he seldom spoke to it in any other language. Of course,
people said this was simply to show off that he knew two languages.
I do not know whether the miner bought the monkey, or whether the
Captain gave it to him, or whether it ran away, but it is certain that
from this hour it belonged to Donald. When he left the ship with his
tools, the monkey followed, trotting after him like a dog all the way
till he reached his lodgings. The miner then went into the house and
shut the door, leaving the monkey outside. In ten minutes it seemed as
if all the boys in San Francisco had gathered in that street. They
formed a crowd round the door which almost stopped the traffic; and when
the policeman shortly appeared he was rather disgusted to find that it
was only a monkey performing gymnastic exercises on a door-knocker.
Roughly ringing the bell, he ordered Donald to take in his monkey.
Donald replied meekly that he was not responsible for the monkey, but
the officer said he would be summoned for 'obstructing the thoroughfare
and causing a breach of the peace' if he did not take in his guest at
once. So Donald had to submit, for he saw there would be no rest in San
Francisco till this wayward creature had its will and was safe inside.
That night Donald had a serious talk with the monkey as it sat upright
in its chair at supper. He told it that if it would behave itself he
would take it up to the Rocky Mountains to the gold diggings. The monkey
seemed to understand, for it put down a lump of cheese it was about to
eat, skipped off its chair, and nestled against Big Donald's side. Only
one other thing happened that night: Donald gave the monkey its name. He
called it 'Gum'--because it stuck to him.
[Illustration: A MONKEY PERFORMING GYMNASTIC EXERCISES]
CHAPTER III
Next morning Donald and Gum started from San Francisco by an early train
on their way to Silver Creek. The appearance of the monkey in the
railway carriage created much amusement among the passengers, and Donald
had to stand a running-fire of questions as to whether it belonged to
his great-grandfather or to a barrel-organ. The fun was stopped in a
little while by the entrance of the conductor, who demanded Gum's
ticket. Gum not having a ticket, an angry discussion arose on the
subject of fare; but Donald said he would only pay when the conductor
showed him the correct price for a monkey printed in black and white in
the official books. There being no special mention in these volumes of
monkeys on tour, Donald declined to pay a cent, and the conductor
departed, vowing he would put Gum out of the train at the next station.
When the next station came, however, Donald and the monkey were
entrenched in a corner, the latter tightly grasped in the miner's great
arms, and the conductor, after a glance at the situation, decided to
wait for a more convenient season. In America the conductor, instead of
entering the carriages only when the train stops, moves about all the
time from one carriage to another, so that as the station for Silver
Creek was still eleven hours' distant, he had little doubt his chance
would come.
[Illustration: BURIED HIS TEETH IN THE CONDUCTOR'S WRIST]
And come it did. It was a piping hot day, even for California, and late
in the afternoon Donald fell asleep. His arms were still clasped round
the monkey, and the conductor would never have succeeded in his object
but for an accident. It happened that about that time the train was
approaching an important junction, and part of every ticket had to be
given up at that point. In America a railway ticket is sometimes half a
yard in length, and pieces have to be torn off from point to point. To
avoid the disturbance caused by this operation, miners, cowboys, and
others are in the habit of wearing their tickets slipped into the band
of their great wide-awake hats, and Donald was in this inviting position
when the conductor came round. He snatched it out of the hat to tear off
the necessary piece, when the monkey, thinking a theft was meant, sprang
at the man and buried his teeth in his wrist. Roaring with pain, the
conductor seized his assailant by the throat, and, before Donald could
come to the rescue, tossed him out of the window. The train was dashing
round a curve at thirty miles an hour, and when Donald stretched out his
neck to find out whether Gum was killed, it was with small hope of ever
seeing him more. For two minutes the miner gazed at the receding
distance, then, without uttering a word, turned round and felled the
conductor to the floor.
CHAPTER IV
When the train rolled into the junction, about an hour after, Donald
went into the refreshment room to quiet his nerves with a cup of cocoa.
He was about to take his seat again in the carriage when he observed a
crowd on the platform opposite the brake-van at the rear end of the
train. Making his way to the spot and looking over the heads of the
crowd, what was his amazement to see Gum seated on the coupling
apparatus, and looking about him with perfect serenity. One hand held an
iron rod, and with the other he scratched his head; and, but for a great
splash of brown earth on one side, the monkey seemed wholly untouched by
his adventure. A single word in Gaelic from Donald made the monkey
spring from its perch, and over the heads of the people into his arms,
and in a few minutes the strange friends were pursuing their journey
again, as if nothing had happened. A new conductor was now on the train,
and Donald made friends with him by reciting the whole adventure, so
that they were allowed to end the day in peace. About midnight the two
got out at a roadside station, where they spent the night, and in the
grey of the morning set out by coach for Silver Creek. From Silver Creek
Donald's cabin was still thirty miles' walk over the mountains, and
after another day's hard toiling they reached the spot.
CHAPTER V
After a long journey over the mountains Donald reached his log cabin on
the Silver Creek. The monkey, however, did not find quite so immediate a
welcome as himself from Donald's wife. The only pet her children had
ever seen before was a baby puma, which the miner had picked out of the
stream one day in a half-drowned state. Donald had mistaken it for a
kitten of some new brand, and it was not until some weeks later, when it
sprang upon his little girl and buried his claws in her neck, that he
realised what sort of plaything--the puma is the lion of the Rocky
Mountains--he had introduced into his family. So Donald's wife was
suspicious of pets, and when she saw the monkey she was sure it was
another lion, and would not allow it to enter the door. But Gum had
other ways of entering houses than by doors, and finally he was received
as a lawful member of the family, for the simple reason that he could
not be kept out. The new guest gave little trouble. Most of the day the
monkey spent with Donald at the mine. He went off with him when he went
to work in the morning, and gambolled round him till he came home for
supper. And very soon an incident happened which more than reconciled
Donald's wife to her strange visitor. Donald's gold-mine was a poor one.
He had to work very hard to get enough of the precious dust to keep his
family in food, but his spirits were kept up by the constant hope that
he would strike a richer bed and make his fortune. The way he got the
gold was to take the sand and gravel from the banks of the river and
wash it about in a pan till all the lighter particles passed off with
the water, leaving the little spangles of gold at the bottom. Sometimes
a week would pass without the miner getting more than a thimbleful, but
occasionally he would find a few lumps as big as a pea. One day,
however, just as Donald was getting discouraged, a piece of great
good-luck befell him. He had been particularly depressed that day, for
no gold at all had rewarded his search for a week, and the family were
already in debt for flour and clothes. But, thanks to the monkey, he was
able to go home to his wife with the largest gold nugget that had been
seen in that valley for many years. Gum had been skirmishing about as
usual on the gravel heaps, when some loose pebbles were dislodged by his
paws, and, as they rolled down, he must have been attracted by the
yellow glitter in one large lump, for the next moment he had picked up
the nugget and laid it, with a wag of his tail, at Donald's feet. The
miner almost wept for gladness, and, taking Gum up in his arms as if he
were a child, hurried home to proclaim his fortune. That night the
family had a great feast, and Gum's health was drunk in the strongest
tea the mining camp could furnish. Perhaps if they had known what was
shortly to happen they would not have slept quite so soundly.
[Illustration: THE NUGGET OF GOLD]
CHAPTER VI
Two nights after the wheel of fortune gave an unlooked-for turn.
Donald's wife was so proud of the nugget that she could not keep the
news to herself, and, next morning, although Donald had carefully told
her to keep it quiet, confided his good-luck to another miner's wife,
who lived a few hundred yards off. This worthy woman told another, and
in twenty-four hours the fame of Donald's nugget was spread from end to
end of the valley. This would not have mattered in most places, but
mining districts are peopled by criminals and adventurers of all kinds,
and among these were some lawless characters whose chief business was to
get gold in some other way than by working for it. Two of these men,
brothers, who lived with their families at the lower end of the valley,
determined that they should possess themselves of Donald's nugget.
Covering their faces with black masks, and armed with revolvers, they
set off about midnight for the miner's cabin. The family were fast
asleep, and the robbers noiselessly pushed up the window, and entered
the room where Donald slept. Pointing a loaded revolver at his head, one
of the men roughly awoke him, and told him if he moved or cried out he
would blow out his brains and murder every one in the house. Donald was
too familiar with stories of camp crime to resist an attack so sudden,
and, though a loaded revolver was under his own pillow, he saw his
disadvantage and, for the sake of his wife and children, controlled
himself with a great effort.
[Illustration: POINTING A LOADED REVOLVER AT HIS HEAD]
'I want that little bit of metal of yours,' said the robber. Donald lay
perfectly quiet. 'Do you hear!' exclaimed the man, 'I want that gold.'
'Then you won't get it,' said Donald quietly.
'I believe he has sent it to the bank,' whispered the other man. 'Kill
him if he has.'
'Look here!' thundered the first, 'do you mean to say that nugget is
gone?'
Donald made no reply. If he said it was gone, the robbers would have
simply sneaked home, for Donald was known in these parts as a man who
never told a lie. Once more the robber asked him, but Donald remained
silent. This was enough. If it had really been gone Donald would have
certainly said so. So, while the first man stood with a revolver at his
ear, the second proceeded to search the house. Drawers, boxes, and
cupboards were opened and ransacked in quick succession; every corner of
the two rooms was examined; the very dishes on the shelf were turned
upside down, and the sugar-basin smashed to pieces with a blow, in case
it should have been hidden there.
'Let me try,' said the man with the revolver; 'you watch the old bear,
and see if I can't find it.'
Once more the house was ransacked from top to bottom, and the robber was
about to abandon the search, when a sudden thought occurred to him. On
the mantel-piece ticked a wooden American clock, about two feet high.
The man opened the door in the case, and fumbled about with his finger.
Next moment he had drawn out the nugget. He bent over the fire to get a
better look at it, and then proceeded to weigh it in the palm of his
hand, to see how much it was worth. The other robber, unable to restrain
his curiosity, moved likewise toward the fire, when the first checked
him with an angry cry, and sent him back to his victim's side to
continue his guard. Another moment, and Donald would have had his
revolver out, and the nugget would have been saved. But there was
another spectator of this scene on whom the thieves had scarcely
reckoned. In his usual berth, crouched at the side of the fireplace, sat
Gum. The robber was weighing the gold in his hand, turning it round and
round, and gloating over it, when the glitter from the precious metal
attracted the monkey's eye. It seemed to feel some sense of property in
this gold, for, quick as lightning, one hairy paw brushed the robber's
hand, and the next moment the nugget was gone. With a great oath the
robber turned on Gum, and dealt it a blow on the head which knocked it
senseless to the other side of the room. But, before that blow fell, two
things happened. With one hand held out to protect itself against this
sudden onslaught, the monkey made a grab at its assailant's face, and
tore off the black mask, so that Donald instantly recognised the man, in
the glow of the firelight; with the other hand, which held the gold, the
monkey swiftly transferred the nugget to its mouth.
The robber's eye followed this last movement, however, and he picked up
Gum roughly, and proceeded to wrench open its jaws. He felt all round
his mouth, but the nugget was not there. He held the senseless body up
by the tail and shook it, but no gold appeared. He took his head between
his knees, and sounded all over its throat, but the nugget was not to be
found. As a matter of fact it was not there. The blow which had fallen
upon the monkey's head had knocked it down its throat. Gum had swallowed
the nugget!
What was to be done now? If the robber had had a knife in his pocket,
Gum would have been a dead monkey in two seconds. But while he was
unsuccessfully feeling for his knife, Gum suddenly came to, and with one
violent wriggle shook itself free, and sprang on the highest shelf. The
robber gave chase; then followed the most comical hunt you ever saw. The
robber's face being now exposed (he had no idea that Donald had already
recognised him), he was afraid to turn round, and he had to keep up the
hunt without once facing in the direction where Donald lay, with the
result that he was fairly baffled, and after a quarter of an hour's hard
work, gave up the chase. All that remained now was to blind Donald.
Roughly approaching the bed, the robber drew the blankets over Donald's
face, and told him he would shoot him if he dared to stir. As an extra
precaution, the miner's revolver was taken out of reach, and then both
men started, with a piece of rope, to secure the monkey. Clever as Gum
was, he was scarcely a match for two men, who, as noted horse-thieves,
were experts in the use of the lasso, and in a short time the monkey was
ignominiously driven from his perch on a rafter, tied up in Donald's
pillow-case, and swung over the shoulder of one of the men. Then the
robbers wished Donald a grim good-night, and marched off with their
'purse.' As they were going out of the door Donald called after them,
'Good-night, ye blackguards, and mark my words, if ye lay a hand on that
monkey ye'll regret it as long as ye live!' This made the men a little
frightened, for although they did not like to confess it to one another,
there was something about Gum that was 'not canny.' Anyhow, whether it
was fear of the monkey, or of their own consciences, instead of killing
Gum as soon as they left the house they carried it all the way home with
them, discussing which of them was to kill it, and how it was to be
done.
CHAPTER VII
When the thieves reached home, after a hasty breakfast, they continued
the discussion as to how the purse was to be opened and the nugget
secured. Unfortunately for them the monkey had struggled out of the
pillow-case, as soon as it reached the house, and the robbers' children
at once seized upon it, and claimed it as their pet. When they were told
it would have to be killed, the youngest child, a little girl so lovely
that even a bad father could not help loving her, burst into tears, and,
putting her arms round the robber's neck, prayed and entreated him to
spare its life, and let her play with it. Now, wicked as this man was,
this child had a mysterious influence over him, and though he was
resolved to kill Gum, and that immediately, he determined that she
should not see it done, nor even know that he had done it. Besides this,
it would never do to let the people in the valley know that they had
killed the monkey, for Donald would surely go in search of it; so after
consulting together for some time, the robbers decided on a plan for
killing Gum without anybody being any the wiser. They knew that if they
shot it, or drowned it, or slew it with a knife, the children would be
angry, and the story would certainly be told to their playmates and
passed on in time to Donald's family. So a very diabolical scheme was
hatched. The only way they could think of for killing Gum without any
one seeing, or without either of them being actually present at the
death, was to _blow it up with gunpowder_. This method had another
advantage, which neither of the men liked to confess weighed with them,
but in reality it was this more than anything else that made them think
of the gunpowder. At the bottom of their hearts these men were cowards,
and after the strange threat which Donald had uttered as they were
leaving his house, they were secretly afraid 'to lay a hand' upon Gum. A
monkey was a very mysterious creature. They had never had anything to do
with one before. Gum's face had a curious human look, and to murder it
in cold blood was almost like murdering a man. So the gunpowder idea
seemed the very solution that was needed, and they set about their
preparations at once. While one of the men remained at the kitchen fire
with the family to allay suspicion, the other, after pocketing a little
can of miners' blasting-powder, a couple of feet of fuse, and a piece of
string, strolled out to the wood behind the cabin on the pretence of
giving the monkey a walk. As soon as a low thicket screened the pair
from view, the robber tied the monkey to the trunk of a tree. Then he
lashed the can of gunpowder tightly to the monkey's tail, passed one end
of the fuse into it through a small hole, struck a match, and lighted
the other end. As soon as he saw the fuse was fairly lit, and the red
fire slowly creeping upwards, he ran back as fast as he could to the
house. Meantime the other man had got a concertina from the shelf, and
was playing with all his might to drown the sound of the explosion. When
the executioner arrived, out of breath though he was, he joined noisily
in the dance which the children had set up the moment the concertina
began to play, and presently such a stamping and shouting was going on
in the cottage that the sound of an earthquake would have been quenched.
Suddenly an awful interruption occurred. Through the open door the
monkey bounded in, and taking up its place in the midst of the circle
joined in the dance. From its neck dangled a piece of string, burnt at
the point; but what made the children shriek with laughter was a small
tin can tied to its tail, which clattered about with every turn of the
body, and strange to say, had a sort of little tail of its own which
appeared to be on fire, for little puffs of smoke were coming from it,
and a red colour glowed at the tip. The moment the robbers caught sight
of this apparition there was a yell of fear which paralysed the children
into rigid statues. The men's faces were livid with terror, and some
seconds passed before either had recovered his senses sufficiently to
act. Then one man, with a great sweep of his arms, caught up all the
children into one tumble bunch, and flung them screaming with pain and
surprise under the bed of the adjoining room. The other, who was
directly responsible for the mischief, seeing that the only chance to
save his house and himself was to get Gum outside, clutched the smoking
monkey in his arms and rushed to the door. Quick as the movement was, it
was not quick enough. Those inside heard a deafening report; the house
was filled with smoke; the doorway became a heap of fallen timber, and
the blackened body of a man lay groaning among the charred ruins. One of
the robbers, their wives, and all the children were safe. But when the
smoke cleared away, and the body by the door was examined, life was all
but extinct. For weeks the robber hung between life and death. It forms
no part of this story to tell what pains he suffered, or what agonies of
mind he passed through, or how, when months after he was able to crawl
from his bed and go out into the air it was to see never more the
sunlight or the flowers with his sightless eyes. Certainly Donald's
words had come true. When the miner heard that evening what had
happened, although he had already sent off word to the nearest
police-station with the names of the guilty men, he took no further
action in the matter. God's punishment was quicker than man's.
[Illustration: THE CAN OF GUNPOWDER TIED TO HIS TAIL]
CHAPTER VIII
Late that afternoon the monkey turned up at his old home. Donald found
him lying at the door, an almost unrecognisable object. Thanks to the
way the robber had carried him, one half of his body was untouched, but
the other half was a pitiable spectacle, and the long curly tail, Gum's
great ornament and plaything, was blown off by the root. The poor
creature had swooned, but that he had lain there an hour or two in great
pain was plain from the way the gravel was tossed about in all
directions round him. Donald was greatly touched, and lifting him up in
his arms as tenderly as if he were a child, placed him in his own bed
and dressed his burns. After a long sleep it awoke, and Donald, who had
sat silently by his side, bent over to allow it to lick his face. The
moment it opened its mouth the miner sprang from his chair as if he had
been shot. For there between his teeth the monkey held the nugget!
* * * * *
Five years have passed. Donald is the richest man in Silver Creek
County, and his great mines are worked by hundreds of men. He lives in a
great house, sumptuously furnished and full of precious things, which he
delights to show to the many visitors who flock to see his mine. But of
all these precious things, by far the most precious is Gum, the monkey
without a tail, 'the finder of his first nugget, and the founder of his
fortunes,' as he says to everybody. Then he tells how Gum found the
nugget, and how it was stolen and once more brought back; and how when
Gum got better, the two went back to the spot where the big lump was
found, and searched and searched, and found lump after lump and nugget
after nugget, until, in a few months, more gold was hidden below
Donald's bed than had come from all the mines put together since they
first were opened. Then the good man calls out a word in Gaelic, and the
monkey without a tail jumps into his arms to be caressed, and Donald
asks his guests to read the inscription on the golden collar round its
neck:--
TO
FAITHFUL GUM
FROM
HIS GRATEFUL MASTER.
Made out of the first nugget--August 2nd, 1888.
[Illustration: THE MOST PRECIOUS OF ALL IS GUM]
End of Project Gutenberg's The Monkey That Would Not Kill, by Henry Drummond
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