Part 21 (1/2)
He walked on, counting as regularly as he could, and thought to himself that he never before realized how long fifteen minutes were. It really seemed to him that an hour had pa.s.sed before he finished counting, and then when he stopped there were no more signs that he was near a clearing than there had been before he started.
”Ah, Mr. Stubbs, we're lost! we're lost!” he cried, as he laid his cheek on the monkey's head and gave way to the lonesome grief that came over him. ”What shall we do? Perhaps we won't ever find our way out, but will die here, an' then Uncle Dan'l won't ever know how sorry I was that I run away.”
Then Toby lay right down on the ground and cried so hard that the monkey acted as if it were frightened, and tried to turn the boy's face over, and finally leaned down and licked Toby's ear.
This little act, which seemed so much like a kiss, caused Toby to feel no small amount of comfort, and he sat up again, took the monkey in his arms, and began seriously to discuss some definite plan of action.
”It won't do to keep on the way we've been goin', Mr. Stubbs,” said Toby, as he looked full in his pet's face--and the old monkey sat as still and looked as grave as it was possible for him to look and sit--”for we must be goin' into the woods deeper. Let's start off this way”--and Toby pointed at right angles with the course they had been pursuing--”an' keep right on that way till we come to something, or till we drop right down an' die.”
It is fair to presume that the old monkey agreed to Toby's plan; for although he said nothing in favor of it he certainly made no objections to it, which to Toby was the same as if his companion had a.s.sented to it in the plainest English.
Both the bundles and the monkey were rather a heavy load for a small boy like Toby to carry; but he clung manfully to them, walked resolutely on, without looking to the right or to the left, glad when the old monkey would take a run among the trees, for then he would be relieved of his weight, and glad when he returned, for then he had his company, and that repaid him for any labor which he might have to perform.
Toby was in a hard plight as it was; but without the old monkey for a companion he would have thought his condition was a hundred times worse, and would hardly have had the courage to go on as he was going.
On and on he walked, until it seemed to him that he could really go no farther, and yet he could see no signs which indicated the end of the woods, and at last he sunk upon the ground, too tired to walk another step, saying to the monkey--who was looking as if he would like to know the reason of this pause--”It's no use, Mr. Stubbs, I've got to sit down here an' rest awhile, anyhow; besides, I'm awfully hungry.”
Then Toby commenced to eat his dinner, and to give the monkey his, until the thought came to him that he neither had any water nor did he know where to find it, and then, of course, he immediately became so thirsty that it was impossible for him to eat any more.
”We can't stand this,” moaned Toby to the monkey; ”we've got to have something to drink, or else we can't eat all these sweet things, an' I'm so tired that I can't go any farther. Don't let's eat dinner now, but let's stay here an' rest, an' then we can keep on an' look for water.”
Toby's resting spell was a long one, for as soon as he stretched himself out on the ground he was asleep from actual exhaustion, and did not awaken until the sun was just setting, and then he saw that, hard as his troubles had been before, they were about to become, or in fact had become, worse.
He had paid no attention to his bundles when he lay down, and when he awoke he was puzzled to make out what it was that was strewn around the ground so thickly.
He had looked at it but a very short time when he saw that it was what had been the lunch he had carried so far. After having had the sad experience of losing his money he understood very readily that the old monkey had taken the lunch while he slept, and had amused himself by picking it apart into the smallest particles possible, and then strewn them around on the ground where he now saw them.
Toby looked at them in almost speechless surprise, and then he turned to where the old monkey lay, apparently asleep; but as the boy watched him intently, he could see that the cunning animal was really watching him out of one half-closed eye.
”Now you have killed us, Mr. Stubbs,” wailed Toby. ”We never can find our way out of here; an' now we hain't got anything to eat, and by to-morrow we shall be starved to death. Oh dear! wasn't you bad enough when you threw all the money away, so you had to go an' do this just when we was in awful trouble?”
Mr. Stubbs now looked up as if he had just been awakened by Toby's grief, looked around him leisurely as if to see what could be the matter, and then, apparently seeing for the first time the crumbs that were lying around on the ground, took up some and examined them intently.
”Now don't go to makin' believe that you don't know how they come there,” said Toby, showing anger toward his pet for the first time. ”You know it was you who did it, for there wasn't any one else here, an' you can't fool me by lookin' so surprised.”
It seemed as if the monkey had come to the conclusion that his little plan of ignorance wasn't the most perfect success, for he walked meekly toward his young master, climbed up on his shoulder, and sat there kissing his ear, or looking down into his eyes, until the boy could resist the mute appeal no longer, but took him into his arms and hugged him closely as he said,
”It can't be helped now, I s'pose, an' we shall have to get along the best way we can; but it was awful wicked of you, Mr. Stubbs, an' I don't know what we're going to do for something to eat.”
While the destructive fit was on him the old monkey had not spared the smallest bit of food, but had picked everything into such minute shreds that none of it could be gathered up, and everything was surely wasted.
While Toby sat bemoaning his fate, and trying to make out what was to be done for food, the darkness, which had just begun to gather when he first awoke, now commenced to settle around, and he was obliged to seek for some convenient place in which to spend the night before it became so dark as to make the search impossible.
Owing to the fact that he had slept nearly the entire afternoon, and also rendered wakeful by the loss he had just sustained, Toby lay awake on the hard ground, with the monkey on his arm, hour after hour, until all kinds of fancies came to him, and in every sound feared he heard some one from the circus coming to capture him, or some wild beast intent on picking his bones.
The cold sweat of fear stood out on his brow, and he hardly dared to breathe, much more to speak, lest the sound of his voice should betray his whereabouts, and thus bring his enemies down upon him. The minutes seemed like hours, and the hours like days, as he lay there, listening fearfully to every one of the night-sounds of the forest; and it seemed to him that he had been there very many hours when at last he fell asleep, and was thus freed from his fears.
Bright and early on the following morning Toby was awake, and as he came to a realizing sense of all the dangers and trouble that surrounded him he was disposed to give way again to his sorrow; but he said resolutely to himself, ”It might be a good deal worse than it is, an' Mr. Stubbs an' I can get along one day without anything to eat; an' perhaps by night we shall be out of the woods, an' then what we get will taste good to us.”