Summer of the Monkeys

by Wilson Rawls

  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.

  Daisy brought Jimbo over and set him down in the crib. Right away he got an ear of corn and joined his little friends.

  By this time, Mama had gotten over most of her scare. She came over to the corn crib and looked in at the monkeys.

  “Why, the poor things are starving to death,” she said, all concerned. “I’ll go and heat a pan of milk for them. I bet they’d like that.”

  All excited, Daisy said, “I’ll go and get them some apples.”

  Right then I saw a good chance to get back at my little sister.

  “Daisy,” I said, trying to act very serious, “if you don’t stop feeding our apples to those monkeys, we’re not going to have any apples left.”

  Daisy smiled and said, “Aw, Jay Berry, you’re just trying to be cute now.”

  “That’s what you told me,” I said. “Remember?”

  Papa said, “I think I’ll get a bale of straw and make them a bed to sleep in. After a night like they had out in that storm, I’ll bet they could use some sleep.”

  Just as Papa turned to be on his way, he stopped and looked at Mama. “There’s something I’d like to know,” he said.

  “What’s that?” Mama asked.

  Papa smiled and said, “What are you going to do with that tea kettle?”

  Mama looked at the tea kettle and I could see the surprise spread all over her face. From the way she was staring at it, you would’ve thought that she’d never seen it before.

  Then she laughed and said, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, what am I doing with this thing?”

  All of us had a good laugh.

  Daisy squealed, “Oh, look at Rowdy!”

  Rowdy had hopped up in the crib and had sat down right in the middle of all the monkeys. His old tail was really making a racket as it swished back and forth in the corn shucks.

  “Rowdy,” I said, “I’m going to the store and tell Grandpa about catching the monkeys. If you’re going with me, you’d better come out of there.”

  For once, Mama didn’t say one word to stop me. All she said was, “Jay Berry, you hurry back because I don’t want you out late.”

  sixteen

  Rowdy and I had made a lot of trips to Grandpa’s store. Sometimes I would start out running as fast as I could to see if I was man enough to make it all the way before I ran out of steam. I never could make it. It was just too far. I always ran out of steam. But the day I caught the monkeys, I made the fastest trip to Grandpa’s store I had ever made. I ran all the way and even had a little steam left when I got there.

  As I came in sight of the store, I saw the mail buggy at the hitching rail. As Rowdy and I came bounding into the store, I saw Grandpa and the mailman standing at the counter, looking at a catalogue.

  Almost shouting, I said, “Grandpa, I caught the monkeys! Every one of them! Even the hundred dollar one!”

  “You caught them?” Grandpa said, as he jerked his glasses off and stared at me.

  “I sure did,” I said. “They’re locked up safe and sound in our corn crib.”

  “How many did you catch?” Grandpa asked.

  I reared back and said, “Twenty-eight little ones and Jimbo.”

  “Twenty-nine!” Grandpa said, all excited. “I knew you could do it. I knew it all the time. A man can do anything if he puts his mind to it.”

  The mailman looked at me. “Are those the monkeys your grandpa was telling me about?” he asked. “The ones that got away from that circus train—the ones they’re offering a reward for?”

  I nodded my head.

  The mailman looked up toward the ceiling and I could see his lips moving as if he were counting. Then he smiled and said, “Son, you’ve just earned yourself a lot of money. What are you going to do with all of it?”

  “I’m going to get myself a pony and a gun,” I said, very proudly. “That’s what I’m going to do with it.”

  Grandpa looked at the mailman. “I know you’re in a hurry,” he said, “but as long as you’re here, could you wait until I write a letter to those circus people? It won’t take me five minutes. I’d like to get it in the mail.”

  The mailman said, “Go ahead but make it snappy. I’m running late and it’s going to be after dark when I get back to town.”

  Grandpa hurried behind the counter, opened a drawer, and started fumbling through some papers. I heard him mumble, “Now what did I do with the letter that had that address on it? I thought I put it in this drawer.”

  My old grandpa was so excited he had forgotten all about his glasses. He was still holding them in his hand.

  The mailman said, “Maybe if you put your glasses on, you could see what you’re doing. They do help, you know.”

  I had to bite my lower lip to keep from laughing out loud.

  Grandpa mumbled something that no one could understand, put on his glasses, and again started looking through the drawer.

  Grandpa was still searching the drawer when the mailman suddenly spoke up and said, “Hey, wait a minute! Maybe you won’t have to write that letter. I heard some fellows in town talking yesterday and they said that the circus is in Tulsa now. If it would help any, I could send a telegram over there soon as I get back to town.”

  I could see the relief on Grandpa’s face.

  “Help any!” he exclaimed. “I’d say it would help. How much will it cost to send it?”

  “Oh, I don’t think it’ll cost over fifty cents,” the mailman said. “It’s not very far. What do you want me to say in the telegram?”

  Grandpa thought a second, and said, “Just tell them that the monkeys have been caught and we’re waiting to hear from them.”

  Grandpa and I followed the mailman out to his buggy and watched as he took off down the road.

  We were back in the store when Grandpa said, “Tell me how you caught those monkeys. I want to know. I was
beginning to think they couldn’t be caught.”

  “Grandpa,” I said, “those monkeys were so easy to catch, it’s still hard for me to believe that I caught them. If it hadn’t been for that storm, I probably never could have caught them. Papa thinks they wanted to be caught.”

  “What did the storm have to do with it?” Grandpa asked.

  I told Grandpa all about catching the monkeys; from the time I found them until they were locked in the corn crib.

  Grandpa chuckled. “Well, it makes no difference how they were caught,” he said. “You caught them and that’s that. Another thing, I don’t think we’ll have to wait very long to hear from those circus people. They want those monkeys pretty bad. I bet we hear from them in a day or two.”

  “You think so, Grandpa?” I said, all excited.

  Nodding his head, Grandpa said, “If they get that telegram tonight, I don’t think they’ll fool around. From what they told me, those monkeys are really valuable to that circus.”

  “Boy,” I said, “in a day or two! Wouldn’t that be something!”

  I had never seen my old grandpa so pleased and happy. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He stepped behind the counter, picked up a good-size paper sack, handed it to me, and said, “Here, help yourself to the candy.”

  I was so surprised I didn’t know what to say. This was the first time that Grandpa had ever told me to help myself to the candy. I opened the sack and looked inside it. I asked, “How much do you want me to put in it, Grandpa?”

  “Fill it up,” Grandpa said. “All the way to the top.”

  As I headed for the candy counter, I said, “Boy, if I eat that much candy I’ll probably have a bellyache for six months.”

  Grandpa chuckled and said, “Oh, I don’t think so—I’ve never heard of a boy having the bellyache from eating candy. I don’t think that’s possible.”

  Rowdy followed me and watched while I filled the sack with gumdrops, jawbreakers, peppermint sticks, and horehound candy. I didn’t take any of the penny suckers. I figured that the sticks would take up too much room in the sack.