DOWN THE RIVER 



Now comes the part of this story that really needs 

 a witness, not to veracity perhaps, but to accuracy 

 of observations. Fortunately I have F. About 

 noon next day the monkey returned to his point of 

 observation. He used the same precautions as to 

 concealment; he followed his route of the day before; 

 he proceeded directly to his old conning tower on 

 the big limb. It did not take him quite so long to 

 get there, for he had already scouted out the trail. 

 And close at his heels followed tzoo other monkeys! 

 They crawled where he crawled; they scrooched 

 where he scrooched; they hid where he hid; they flat- 

 tened themselves out by him on the big limb and all 

 three of them passed the afternoon gazing down on 

 the strange and fascinating things below. Whether 

 these newcomers were part of the first one's family 

 out for a treat, or whether they were Cook's Tourists 

 of the Jungle in charge of my friend's competence 

 as a guide, I do not know. 



Farther down the river F. and I stopped for some 

 time to watch the crossing of forty-odd of the little 

 blue monkeys. The whole band clambered to near 

 the top of a tall tree growing by the water's edge. 

 There, one by one, they ran out on a straight over- 

 hanging limb and cast themselves into space. On 

 the opposite bank of the river, and leaning well 

 out, grew a small springy bush. Each monkey 



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