The Tale of Major Monkey
Project Gutenberg's The Tale of Major Monkey, by Arthur Scott Bailey This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Tale of Major Monkey
Author: Arthur Scott Bailey
Illustrator: Lawrence Brehm
Release Date: June 19, 2006 [EBook #18626]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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The Tale Of Major Monkey
BY ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
Author of THE CUFFY BEAR BOOKS SLEEPY-TIME TALES, ETC.
Illustrations by Lawrence Brehm
GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
Copyright, 1919, by GROSSET & DUNLAP PRINTED IN U.S.A.
[Illustration: "There's a Tiger inside this Tree!"]
CONTENTS
I Strange Whispers 1 II No 'Possum 6 III Getting Acquainted 11 IV Wanted--A Lodging 16 V Meeting Major Monkey 22 VI Too Many Disputes 28 VII The Major Has a Pain 33 VIII A Secret 39 IX The Major Has a Plan 45 X The New Army 50 XI War in the Woods 56 XII Over and Under 61 XIII The Major Hesitates 65 XIV Throwing Stones 70 XV The Retreat 75 XVI The Major's Trouble 81 XVII Major Monkey Confesses 86 XVIII Planning a Journey 92 XIX The Major's Scheme 97 XX A Fast Ride 102 XXI A Sweet Tooth 108 XXII Caught! 113 XXIII The Major Goes South 117
The Tale of Major Monkey
I
Strange Whispers
The wild folk in Pleasant Valley were whispering strange stories to one another. If the stories were true, they were most amazing. And if they were merely made up to cause talk, certainly they succeeded.
Perhaps if somebody less tricky than Peter Mink and Tommy Fox had started these odd tales, the rest of the wild folk might have been quicker to believe them.
Anyhow, the news offered the best of excuses for gossip. And many of the field- and forest-people repeated it so often that they almost began to believe it themselves.
All but old Mr. Crow. He declared stoutly that the whole thing was nothing but a hoax.
"You can't fool me!" he told people. But when they said that they had no intention of trying to, he had to change his statement. "I mean"--he explained--"I mean that neither Tommy Fox nor Peter Mink can fool me. They can't make me believe that they've seen anybody hanging by his tail in a tree-top."
"Why not?" asked Mr. Crow's cousin, Jasper Jay.
"Becaws----" said Mr. Crow. And then he corrected himself once more. "Because," he replied, "no 'possum ever came so far North as this. I've spent a good many winters in the South, and I ought to know. And besides," he added, "although a 'possum can hang by his tail, there never was one that could throw a stick or a stone. And I ought to know, for I've spent a good many winters in the South, where the 'possums live."
Everybody had to admit that old Mr. Crow must know what he was talking about. And people began to feel rather foolish when they realized how near they had been to letting those two rascals--Peter Mink and Tommy Fox--deceive them.
As for old Mr. Crow, having persuaded his neighbors to his way of thinking, he began to be more pleased with himself than ever. And he spent a good deal of time sitting in a tall tree near the cornfield, with his head on one side, hoping that his friends would notice how wise he looked.
He was engaged in that agreeable pastime one afternoon when--thump!--something struck the limb on which he was perched.
Mr. Crow gave a squawk and a jump. And then he glanced quickly toward the ground.
There was no one anywhere in sight. So Mr. Crow looked somewhat silly. For a moment he had thought that Johnnie Green had thrown something at him. But he saw at once that he was mistaken. Of course it could have been nothing more than a dead branch falling.
He settled himself again, trying to appear as if he hadn't been startled, when--plump!--something gave him a smart blow on his back.
Old Mr. Crow flopped hastily into a neighboring tree. And this time he looked up instead of down.
At first he could see nothing unusual. And he had almost made up his mind that something had fallen out of the sky, when a head showed itself from behind a limb and a queer, wrinkled face peered at him.
Mr. Crow did not recognize the face. It was an odd one. In fact, he thought he had never seen an odder. But if he thought the face a queer one, it was not half as peculiar as the stranger's actions.
For, as Mr. Crow watched him, the stranger slipped
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