Summer of the Monkeys

by Wilson Rawls

  “Boy, Grandpa,” I whispered, “that’s what we’re looking for.”

  Just as Grandpa opened the book to the index page, the silence of the library was shattered by the deep voice of Rowdy. He had gotten tired of waiting for me and had come to the open door and bawled. He was telling me that it was time I got myself out of there.

  I had always known that my old hound had a beautiful voice, but I had never heard it ring like it did in that silent library. The deep tones rolled out over the floor, slammed against the walls, bounced off the ceiling, and made books quiver on the shelves. Boys and girls all over the place started screaming with laughter.

  Like a shot out of a gun, the little lady came from behind the counter and over to Rowdy. She stopped right in front of him. With her hands on her hips, she stood there looking at him. Rowdy thought he had found another friend and was acting like he was very proud of what he had done. He just sat there, mopping the floor with his tail and panting happily.

  I all but turned my chair over as I came up out of it. I rushed over and grabbed Rowdy’s collar with both hands. I thought the lady would be angry and was going to jump on my dog—but she wasn’t. She wasn’t the least bit mad. I could see a twinkle in her eyes and she was smiling.

  “Son,” she asked, “is this your dog?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  “I’ve been a librarian here for a good many years,” she said, “but this is the first time I’ve ever had a hound dog ask if he could come in my library. I’m honored.”

  “It’s my fault,” I said. “I should have tied him up. He got tired of waiting for me. He never could wait very long.”

  Still smiling, the lady said, “I wonder if you could tell me something. Why does that old man want to read a book about catching monkeys?”

  “He’s my grandpa,” I said. “All summer we’ve been trying to catch a bunch of monkeys and we haven’t had much luck. Grandpa thought maybe here in this library we could find a book that could tell us how to catch them.”

  I saw a confused look come into the lady’s eyes. “Where have you been trying to catch monkeys?” she asked.

  “Up on the river where we live,” I said. “They got away from a circus train that was wrecked.”

  “Oh, yes,” the lady said, nodding her head. “I remember reading about that wreck.”

  “I’m sorry for what Rowdy did,” I said. “I’ll take him to the buckboard and tie him up.”

  “You do that,” the lady said as she glanced at the noisy boys and girls. “I’ll see if I can get things back to normal in here.”

  I took Rowdy to the buckboard, made him get up in it, and tied him to the back of the spring seat. I was telling him what a mess he had made of everything when Grandpa came hurrying around the corner of the library. His face was beaming.

  Grandpa started talking before he got to us. “I found what I was looking for,” he said, all excited. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. We’ll catch those monkeys this time for sure. You can bet on that.”

  “How are we going to catch them?” I asked.

  “I’ll tell you all about it on the way home,” Grandpa said. “Right now, I want to get downtown. We have to make one more stop.”

  twelve

  As I climbed in the buckboard, I said, “Grandpa, why are we stopping in town?”

  “We’re going to buy some coconuts,” Grandpa said. “Coconuts!” I said, surprised. “What are we going to do with coconuts?”

  “We’re going to use them for monkey bait,” Grandpa said. “From what I read in that book, if there’s one thing that monkeys really like to eat, it’s coconuts.”

  I wanted to ask Grandpa a thousand questions but just then we drove up in front of a large building and stopped.

  “This is the Wiley Mercantile,” Grandpa said. “It’s the biggest store in town. You can buy just about anything you need here—from a wagon and team to a can of snuff.”

  While Grandpa was tying the team to the hitching rail, I had a talk with Rowdy. I told him that if he’d behave himself and not make any fuss I’d bring him a piece of candy. Rowdy wasn’t the least bit happy about my leaving him, but he did lay down in the buckboard.

  As Grandpa and I started into the mercantile, Grandpa said, “Old Man Wiley owns this store. He’s a fine old man and as honest as the day is long—but I never seem to be able to get along with him. He’s always rubbing me the wrong way.”

  I thought Grandpa’s store was big, but compared to the mercantile, it wasn’t any bigger than a chicken coop. The storekeeper was standing behind a counter when Grandpa and I came through the door. He was an old man and reminded me of Grandpa. As we stepped up to the counter, he looked over his glasses at us and said, “What can I do for you?”

  Grandpa looked over his glasses at him and said, “Do you have any coconuts?”

  The storekeeper smiled and said, “You’re in luck. I just got in a half bushel of them. They’re still in the storeroom. How many do you want?”

  Grandpa frowned. Drumming the fingers of his left hand on the counter, he mumbled to himself, “A half bushel.” Then he spoke up and said, “I guess I’ll just take all of them.”

  The storekeeper drew back and said, “The whole half bushel!”

  “Yes!” Grandpa said. “The whole half bushel.”

  As the storekeeper turned to go to the storeroom to get the coconuts, he shook his head and said, “Boy, you must like coconuts. A half bushel!”

  “I do like coconuts,” Grandpa growled. “I’ve never in my life had all I could eat at one time.”

  I wanted to laugh but I was afraid to. It’s not a good idea to laugh at two old men when their dander’s up. There’s no telling what they’re liable to do.

  On hearing someone giggle, I turned around. Over behind the candy counter was a girl about my age. She was looking straight at me. She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. In fact, I didn’t think girls got that pretty. She looked like a doll. Her hair was the color of sycamore leaves after the first frost. It hung down her back in two long braids and was tied with purple ribbons. She had a dimple in one cheek. At first I thought her eyes were blue. Then I decided they were green. Then I didn’t know what color they were.

  Seeing the ribbons in her hair reminded me of Daisy’s ribbons. “Boy-oh-boy, Grandpa,” I said, “I almost forgot Daisy’s ribbons.”

  Grandpa laughed and said, “If you had forgotten those ribbons, neither one of us could have gone home.”

  I walked over to the pretty girl and said, “Do you work here?”

  She didn’t say a word. She just smiled and nodded her head.

  “I’d like to buy two spools of ribbon,” I said. “One pink and one blue.”

  The girl turned and walked to another counter. I followed her. While she was getting the ribbon, I looked through the glass top of the counter and saw a tray of thimbles. Some looked like silver and some looked like gold.

  When the girl came back, I waited while she put the ribbons in a small paper sack, then I said, “How much are those thimbles?”

  The girl said, “They’re fifteen cents each.”

  “I’ll take one of those gold ones,” I said.

  “What size do you want?” she asked.

  “Size?” I said. “I didn’t know thimbles came in sizes.”

  “Oh, sure,” the girl said. “Small, medium, and large.”

  “It’s for my mama,” I said, “but I don’t know what size she would need.”

  “Well, let’s see,” the girl said, holding her hand up in front of her and looking at it. “Is your mother’s hand bigger than mine?”

  I looked at her hand and said, “I don’t know. Mama’s hand could be a little bigger than yours.”

  Holding her hand out to me, she said, “Maybe if you held my hand you could tell better.”

  This really shook me up. I stepped back and said, “I’m not going to hold your hand. What’s the matter with you?”

 
; She giggled and said, “I was just trying to help. Didn’t you ever hold a girl’s hand?”

  “No!” I said. “And I’m not going to!”

  She said, “I think your mother would need a medium size.”

  “All right,” I said, “give me one of those.”

  The girl put the thimble in a tiny box with cotton in it and handed it to me. She said, “Will there be anything else?”

  “Yeah,” I said as I shoved the little box down in my pocket, “I’d like a dime’s worth of jawbreakers.”

  While the girl was getting the candy, I saw something that really took my eye. It was a snow-white shaving mug with a fancy design on it. Some time back Papa had dropped his shaving mug. The handle had broken off, and it had a bad crack in it. He still used it but I knew he would like another one.

  “How much is that shaving mug?” I asked the girl.

  “It’s kind of expensive,” she said. “It costs a quarter.”

  I knew if I bought the mug I’d be flat broke but that didn’t make any difference. I wanted Papa to have the shaving mug. “I’ll take it,” I said.

  As I handed the girl my money, she said, “My name is Patricia. Everyone calls me Patty. What’s your name?”

  “Jay Berry,” I said.

  The girl giggled and said, “Jay Berry—that’s a cute name.”

  “Cute!” I said. “I don’t see anything cute about it.”

  “Where do you live?” she asked.

  “Up on the river,” I said, as I picked up my packages.

  “Do you have a sweetheart?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t have a sweetheart,” I said, as I turned my back to her to walk away. “I’m not looking for one either.”

  I heard her giggle.

  Grandpa had just paid the storekeeper for the coconuts when I walked up. He looked at the packages in my hands and said, “What did you buy?”

  “I got a thimble for Mama,” I said, “and a shaving mug for Papa. I got a little candy, too, for Rowdy and me.”

  “What about the ribbon?” Grandpa asked.

  “I got it, too,” I said.

  Grandpa picked up the basket of coconuts. I hurried and opened the door for him.

  Just as Grandpa started through the door, the storekeeper said, “I hope you have all the coconuts you can eat this time.”

  Grandpa stopped, looked at the storekeeper, and very seriously said, “I don’t think that’s possible. Maybe you should order another bushel for me.”

  The storekeeper jerked off his glasses and glared at Grandpa. He said, “There’s something wrong with you.”

  “No,” Grandpa said, “there’s nothing wrong with me. I just like coconuts, that’s all.”

  The girl in the store giggled.

  I looked at her and darned if she didn’t haul off and wink at me. I slammed the door. With my face on fire, I followed Grandpa to the buckboard. I thought, “Boy, that girl’s got a lot of nerve.”

  As Grandpa set the basket of coconuts in the buckboard he said, “You can put that package of ribbon in the basket with the coconuts but you’d better hold onto that shaving mug. As rough as that road is, it could get broken.”

  “All right, Grandpa,” I said. I picked up one of the coconuts, laid the ribbon in the basket, and put the coconut on top of it.

  As Grandpa and I got in the buckboard, he said, “What did you think of that pretty little girl?”

  “I think she’s boy crazy,” I said. “She wanted to know my name and asked me if I had a sweetheart. She tried to get me to hold her hand and even winked at me. I bet she winks at every boy she gets close to.”

  Grandpa laughed as he tapped the mares with the whip.

  “You know,” he said, “the best way to stop a girl from winking at you is to haul off and kiss her. That’s the thing to do.”

  “Aw, Grandpa,” I said, “I’m not going to kiss any girls. You know I couldn’t do anything like that. Why, I’d rather kiss Old Rowdy.”

  I opened my sack of a candy and plopped a big jawbreaker in my mouth. “Would you like a jawbreaker, Grandpa?” I asked as I held one out to him.

  Grandpa looked at it and said, “I don’t believe I care for one right now. Thanks anyway. I don’t think that jawbreakers and this Star tobacco I’m chewing would mix very well.”

  I laughed and said, “I don’t think it would either, Grandpa.”

  Twisting around on the seat, I laid the jawbreaker in front of Rowdy. He rolled it around on the floor of the buckboard with his tongue until it was good and wet. Then he just lapped it up and swallowed it. I plopped another one in his mouth. He didn’t even lick that one. He just stretched his neck and down it went.

  With a wagging tail and begging eyes, Rowdy asked for another jawbreaker.

  “Aw, Rowdy,” I said, “why do you gulp them down like that? You don’t even get to taste them. You’re supposed to hold them in your mouth and suck on them, or at least chew them. I’m going to give you one more but that’s all you’re going to get for a while.”

  I heard Grandpa chuckling.

  Shifting the jawbreaker from one cheek to the other, I leaned back and said, “Grandpa, you were going to tell me how we’re going to catch those monkeys.”

  “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble catching them this time,” Grandpa said. “All we need is those coconuts, a roll of chicken wire, a snap latch, and a ball of binder twine. Now that we have the coconuts, I have everything else we need in my store.”

  “What are we going to do with all that stuff, Grandpa?” I asked.

  “We’re going to build a big pen out of that chicken wire,” he said. “It’ll have a top on it and a door with a snap latch. We’ll put those coconuts right in the center of the pen and leave the door open. Then we’ll tie the binder twine to the door and run it back through the pen and out into the brush a little way. When those monkeys go into the pen after those coconuts, we’ll pull the binder twine and latch the door. What do you think of that idea?”

  Before I answered Grandpa, I closed my eyes and drew a picture of the pen in my mind. I could feel the excitement as it burned its way through me. “Boy, Grandpa,” I said, “that sure sounds good to me. Is that what you read in the book?”

  “It sure was,” Grandpa said. “The story was about a man and woman who lived in the Borneo jungles. All they did was trap monkeys. They sold them to zoos all over the world. They caught thousands and thousands of monkeys—all kinds of monkeys. They always used a pen—just like the one I was telling you about—to catch them; and they used coconuts for bait. It’ll work, I tell you. We’ll get them this time for sure.”

  “Grandpa,” I asked, “are you going to help me build that pen?”

  “I sure am,” Grandpa said. “We’ll get your dad to help, too. I’m going to lock up my store and do nothing but help trap those monkeys. This monkey business has got to come to an end. It’s beginning to bother me a little. I can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep.”

  Grandpa had me so excited I almost swallowed my jawbreaker. With both Grandpa and Papa helping me catch the monkeys, I couldn’t see any way I could lose. Once again, I could almost see myself riding my pony and shooting my .22. Twisting around on the seat, I reached into the basket and lifted out one of the coconuts. As I held it in my hands, I said, “Grandpa, I wonder why monkeys like coconuts so much.”

  “I don’t know,” Grandpa said, “but it said in that book there are two things that monkeys won’t ever pass up—coconuts and bananas.”

  I started turning the coconut over and over in my hands. Just then I saw something that I could hardly believe. In the pointed end of it, underneath the brown hairy-looking fiber, I saw what looked like two small black eyes and a tiny mouth. They made it look exactly like the face of a small monkey. I started laughing. Great big tears started streaming down my face.

  Grandpa said, “What’s so funny?”

  Holding the coconut up for him to see, I cried, “Look, Grandpa.
These coconuts even look like a monkey’s head.”

  Grandpa leaned over and peered at the coconut for a second. Then he grinned and said, “Well, I’ll be darned! They do have a monkey face, don’t they? I never noticed that before.”

  “They should have called these things monkeynuts, instead of coconuts,” I said.

  Grandpa threw his head back and roared with laughter. He laughed so loud it scared the mares. They started zigzagging all over the road. Grandpa started sawing on the check lines and hollering, “Whoa-whoa-whoa.” He finally got the mares quieted down.

  Still laughing and wiping tears from his eyes, he said, “Those monkeys may not know it, but they have a big surprise waiting for them.”

  “They sure have, Grandpa,” I said. “I can hardly wait till we start building that pen.”

  On reaching the river, Grandpa stopped the team and offered the reins to me. “Would you like to drive across the river again?” he asked.

  This time I didn’t hold back. I took the reins in my hands.

  Grandpa chuckled and said, “You’d better call Rowdy, or he’ll have to swim the river.”

  “Come on, Rowdy!” I yelled. “You’d better get in this buckboard, or you’re going to get wet.”

  Rowdy came tearing out of the underbrush and jumped into the buckboard.

  That crossing was easy. The water didn’t seem to be half as deep as it was the day before. I didn’t get the least bit scared.

  We were in the bottoms about a hundred yards from the river, when I realized I was thirsty. “I’m thirsty, Grandpa,” I said. “Would you like to have a good cold drink of water?”

  “I sure would,” Grandpa said. “I’ve been thirsty ever since we left town, but where are we going to get a cold drink?”

  “I know where a spring is,” I said. “The water is as cold as ice.”

  “Where is this spring?” Grandpa asked.

  “It’s just a little way down in the bottoms,” I said.

  Grandpa drove the team off to one side of the road and stopped them under a big sweet gum tree. As we tied the halter ropes of the mares to the gum tree, Grandpa said, “As thirsty as I am, I think I’d walk a mile for a cool drink.”