The Story of a Monkey on a Stick Part 8

Then he hopped away, waving his paw at the Monkey, and the Monkey jumped through the gra.s.s to the place where he had fallen from the dog's back.

There he found Mr. Gra.s.shopper and Miss Cricket. They were eating some of the green things that grew all around them.

"Have you seen anything of my friends?" asked the Monkey, as he hopped up and sat on the hummock of gra.s.s where he had been resting after cutting up his Monkeys.h.i.+nes.

"No, neither the boys nor the dog have been here," said the Gra.s.shopper.

"But I heard a dog barking," said Miss Cricket. "It may have been the Carlo you spoke about."

"And I heard some boys talking," went on the Gra.s.shopper. "They may have been d.i.c.k and Herbert. But they did not come here. Why don't you jump along until you find them?"

"Yes, I suppose I could do that," agreed the Monkey. "But I'll wait a little while, and, if they don't come for me, I'll see if I can find them. As soon as I see them, though, I shall have to stop, and not move.

We toys are not allowed to move or talk as long as human eyes see us."

"That's a funny rule," said Miss Cricket. "But then you are a funny fellow, Mr. Monkey on a Stick."

"If you think I'm funny, you ought to see my friend, the Calico Clown,"

said the Monkey. "He's full of jokes and riddles. He has a queer one about a pig making a noise under a gate."

"My goodness! why did he do that?" asked the Gra.s.shopper.

"Do what?" inquired the Monkey.

"Why did the pig make a noise under the gate?" the Gra.s.shopper wanted to know. "Why couldn't he stay in his pen where he belonged, or in the barnyard?"

"That's what the riddle's about, I suppose," said the Monkey. "Anyhow, none of us can answer, and the Clown's always asking it. If you want to see some one really funny, meet the Calico Clown."

After a little more talk among the three friends, the Monkey said he thought he would hop along and see if he could find the two boys or the dog.

"Aren't you afraid, if you find the dog alone, he may bite you?" asked the Gra.s.shopper.

"Oh, my, no!" exclaimed the Monkey. "Carlo is a friend of mine. If he found me he would take me home to Herbert's house. I had even rather find him than the boys, for I can talk to the dog, and I can't talk to d.i.c.k and Herbert."

"Well, we wish you luck," chirped the Cricket, and the Gra.s.shopper did also.

Away hopped the Monkey, making his journey through the tall gra.s.s of the green meadow. The gra.s.s was rather high, and he could not see very well. But he looked the best he could on every side, and, every now and then, he stopped to listen.

He wanted to hear the barking of Carlo or the shouts of d.i.c.k and Herbert, who, as he guessed, were, even then, looking for him. But the boys looked in the wrong place, and, as it happened, the Monkey jumped in the wrong direction.

The only creatures the Monkey met were bugs and beetles, b.u.t.terflies and birds, gra.s.shoppers and crickets in the gra.s.s. They all spoke to him kindly, and though some of them said they had seen or heard the boys and the dog, none seemed able to tell the Monkey how to find his friends.

"And it is getting late, too," said the Monkey to himself, as he looked up at the sky. "Soon the sun will set, and it will be dark. And then it will be so much the harder for me to find d.i.c.k and Herbert and Carlo, or for them to find me. Well, I suppose I must make the best of it."

He was a plucky Monkey chap, almost as adventurous as the Bold Tin Soldier, and he kept jumping on through the tall gra.s.s of the meadow.

All at once, as he skipped along, being able to move quite fast now that he was off his stick, the Monkey stumbled over a stone and fell flat down.

"Ouch!" he cried, as he picked himself up. "I hope I haven't broken anything."

Very luckily he had not. He was as good as ever, except that his plush fur was rumpled a bit. But he soon brushed himself smooth again, and he was about to hop on, when, all at once, he felt a splash of water on his head.

"Dear me! is some one squirting water at me from a toy rubber ball or a water pistol?" exclaimed the Monkey.

More drops splashed down, dozens and dozens of them. Then the Monkey looked up and cried:

"Oh, it's raining! It's pouring! I'll be soaking wet! I'll be drowned out in the rain without an umbrella or rubbers! Oh, my!"

And the rain came down harder and harder and _harder_.

CHAPTER VIII

HERBERT FINDS THE MONKEY

Poor Monkey on a Stick! Oh, I forgot! He wasn't on a stick now, was he?

Herbert had the stick, and it was just as well he had, for the Monkey, being rid of it, could hop around better.

"And I need to hop around a lot, to keep out of the wet," said the Monkey to himself, after he had come from the Rabbit's cave and had been caught in the rain.

Harder and harder the big drops came pelting down. At first the Monkey tried to keep dry by crawling under the gra.s.s. But, thick and tall as it was, it was not like an umbrella, and the drops came through. Soon the Monkey was very wet.

"I know I'll catch cold!" he said sorrowfully. "I'll get the snuffles!

I'm not used to being soaked like this."

And, truly, he was not. Since he had been made at the workshop of Santa Claus, the Monkey had never been out in a rain storm. He had always been either in the toy factory, the department store, or in some house, and when he was taken from one place to another he was always well wrapped up, so it did not matter whether there was snow or rain.

But now it was different. The Monkey was getting wetter and wetter each minute.

"It's the first time I've been in so much water since the janitor's little girl tried to wash the ink spot off the end of my tail," the Monkey said.

Just then he heard a voice calling:

"Come over here, Mr. Monkey! Over this way, and you can stand under this big leaf, which is like an umbrella!"

"h.e.l.lo! Who are you?" asked the Monkey, looking around, but seeing no one. By this time he had crossed the green meadow and was near a little clump of trees.

"I am Jack in the Pulpit," was the answer. "I live on the edge of the woods. There are big fern leaves here under which you can be safe from the rain. Hop over!"

So the Monkey hopped through the wet gra.s.s until he came close to the trees in the woods. Then the voice called again:

"Straight ahead now, and you'll see me!"

The Monkey looked, and saw a queer little thin green chap, standing up in the middle of a sort of brown, striped leaf that curled over his head, just as in some churches the pulpit curls down over the preacher's head.

"Who did you say you were?" asked the Monkey.

"I am Jack in the Pulpit," was the answer. "Some folks call me a plant, and others a flower. They don't know I am really alive, and can come to life as you toys do. I saw you getting wet, so I called to you. Get under one of these big, broad fern leaves, and it will keep the rain off as well as an umbrella."