The town in which the circus remained over Sunday was a small one, and a
brisk walk of ten minutes sufficed to take Toby into a secluded portion
of a very thickly grown wood, where he could lie upon the mossy ground
and fairly revel in freedom.
As he lay upon his back, his hands under his head, and his eyes directed
to the branches of the trees above, where the birds twittered and sung,
and the squirrels played in fearless sport, the monkey enjoyed himself
in his way, by playing all the monkey antics he knew of.
He scrambled from tree to tree, swung himself from one branch to the
other by the aid of his tail, and amused both himself and his master,
until, tired by his exertions, he crept down by Toby's side and lay
there in quiet, restful content.
One of Toby's reasons for wishing to be by himself that afternoon was
that he wanted to think over some plan of escape, for he believed that
he had nearly money enough to enable him to make a bold stroke for
freedom and Uncle Daniel's. Therefore, when the monkey nestled down
by his side he was all ready to confide in him that which had been
occupying his busy little brain for the past three days.
“Mr. Stubbs,” he said to the monkey, in a solemn tone, “we're goin' to
run away in a day or two.”
Mr. Stubbs did not seem to be moved in the least at this very startling
piece of intelligence, but winked his bright eyes in unconcern; and
Toby, seeming to think that everything which he said had been understood
by the monkey, continued: “I've got a good deal of money now, an' I
guess there's enough for us to start out on. We'll get away some night,
an' stay in the woods till they get through hunting for us, an' then
we'll go back to Guilford an' tell Uncle Dan'l if he'll only take us
back we'll never go to sleep in meetin' any more, an' we'll be just as
good as we know how. Now let's see how much money we've got.”
Toby drew from a pocket, which he had been at a great deal of trouble to
make in his shirt, a small bag of silver, and spread it upon the ground,
where he could count it at his leisure.
The glittering coin instantly attracted the monkey's attention, and he
tried by every means to thrust his little black paw into the pile;
but Toby would allow nothing of that sort, and pushed him away quite
roughly. Then he grew excited, and danced and scolded around Toby's
treasure until the boy had hard work to count it.
He did succeed, however, and as he carefully replaced it in the bag he
said to the monkey: “There's seven dollars an' thirty cents in that bag,
an' every cent of it is mine. That ought to take care of us for a good
while, Mr. Stubbs; an' by the time we get home we shall be rich men.”
The monkey showed his pleasure at this intelligence by putting his
hand inside Toby's clothes to find the bag of treasure that he had seen
secreted there, and two or three times, to the great delight of both
himself and the boy, he drew forth the bag, which was immediately taken
away from him.
The shadows were beginning to lengthen in the woods, and, heeding this
warning of the coming night, Toby took the monkey on his arm and started
for home, or for the tent, which was the only place he could call home.
As he walked along he tried to talk to his pet in a serious manner, but
the monkey, remembering where he had seen the bright coins secreted,
tried so hard to get at them that finally Toby lost all patience and
gave him quite a hard cuff on the ear, which had the effect of keeping
him quiet for a time.
That night Toby took supper with the skeleton and his wife, and he
enjoyed the meal, even though it was made from what had been left of
the turkey that served as the noonday feast, more than he did the state
dinner, where he was obliged to pay for what he ate by the torture of
making a speech.
There were no guests but Toby present; and Mr. and Mrs. Treat were not
only very kind, but so attentive that he was actually afraid he should
eat so much as to stand in need of some of the catnip tea which Mrs.
Treat had said she gave to her husband when he had been equally foolish.
The skeleton would pile his plate high with turkey bones from one side,
and the fat lady would heap it up, whenever she could find a chance,
with all sorts of food from the other, until Toby pushed back his chair,
his appetite completely satisfied, if it never had been so before.
Toby had discussed the temper of his employer with his host and
hostess, and, after some considerable conversation, confided in them his
determination to run away.
“I'd hate awfully to have you go,” said Mrs. Treat, reflectively; “but
it's a good deal better for you to get away from that Job Lord if you
can. It wouldn't do to let him know that you had any idea of goin', for
he'd watch you as a cat watches a mouse, an never let you go so long as
he saw a chance to keep you. I heard him tellin' one of the drivers the
other day that you sold more goods than any other boy he ever had, an'
he was going to keep you with him all summer.”
“Be careful in what you do, my boy,” said the skeleton, sagely, as he
arranged a large cushion in an armchair, and proceeded to make ready for
his after dinner nap; “be sure that you're all ready before you start,
an', when you do go, get a good ways ahead of him; for if he should ever
catch you the trouncin' you'd get would be awful.”
Toby assured his friends that he would use every endeavor to make his
escape successful when he did start; and Mrs. Treat, with an eye to the
boy's comfort, said, “Let me know the night you're goin', an' I'll fix
you up something to eat, so's you won't be hungry before you come to a
place where you can buy something.”
As these kind hearted people talked with him, and were ready thus to aid
him in every way that lay in their power, Toby thought that he had been
very fortunate in thus having made so many kind friends in a place where
he was having so much trouble.
It was not until he heard the sounds of preparation for departure that
he left the skeleton's tent, and then, with Mr. Stubbs clasped tightly
to his breast, he hurried over to the wagon where Old Ben was nearly
ready to start.
“All right, Toby,” said the old driver, as the boy came in sight. “I was
afraid you was goin' to keep me waitin' for the first time. Jump right
up on the box, for there hain't no time to lose, an' I guess you'll have
to carry the monkey in your arms, for I don't want to stop to open the
cage now.”
“I'd just as soon carry him, an' a little rather,” said Toby, as he
clambered up on the high seat and arranged a comfortable place in his
lap for his pet to sit.
In another moment the heavy team had started, and nearly the entire
circus was on the move. “Now tell me what you've been doin' since I left
you,” said Old Ben, after they were well clear of the town and he could
trust his horses to follow the team ahead. “I s'pose you've been to see
the skeleton an' his mountain of a wife?”
Toby gave a clear account of where he had been and what he had done, and
when he concluded he told Old Ben of his determination to run away, and
asked his advice on the matter.
“My advice,” said Ben, after he had waited some time, to give due weight
to his words, “is that you clear out from this show just as soon as you
can. This hain't no fit place for a boy of your age to be in, an'
the sooner you get back where you started from, an get to school, the
better. But Job Lord will do all he can to keep you from goin', if he
thinks you have any idea of leavin' him.”
Toby assured Ben, as he had assured the skeleton and his wife, that he
would be very careful in all he did, and lay his plans with the utmost
secrecy; and then he asked whether Ben thought the amount of money which
he had would be sufficient to carry him home.
“Waal, that depends,” said the driver, slowly. “If you go to spreadin'
yourself all over creation, as boys are very apt to do, your money won't
go very far; but if you look at your money two or three times afore you
spend it, you ought to get back and have a dollar or two left.”
The two talked, and Old Ben offered advice, until Toby could hardly keep
his eyes open, and almost before the driver concluded his sage remarks
the boy had stretched himself on the top of the wagon, where he had
learned to sleep without being shaken off, and was soon in dreamland.
The monkey, nestled down snug in Toby's bosom, did not appear to be as
sleepy as was his master, but popped his head in and out from under the
coat, as if watching whether the boy was asleep or not.
Toby was awakened by a scratching on his face, as if the monkey was
dancing a hornpipe on that portion of his body, and by a shrill, quick
chattering, which caused him to assume an upright position instantly.
He was frightened, although he knew not at what, and looked around
quickly to discover the cause of the monkey's excitement.
Old Ben was asleep on his box, while the horses jogged along behind the
other teams, and Toby failed to see anything whatever which should have
caused his pet to become so excited.
“Lie down an' behave yourself,” said Toby, as sternly as possible, and
as he spoke he took his pet by the collar, to oblige him to obey his
command.
The moment that he did this he saw the monkey throw something out
into the road, and the next instant he also saw that he held something
tightly clutched in his other paw.
It required some little exertion and active movement on Toby's part to
enable him to get hold of that paw, in order to discover what it was
which Mr. Stubbs had captured; but the instant he did succeed, there
went up from his heart such a cry of sorrow as caused Old Ben to start
up in alarm and the monkey to cower and whimper like a whipped dog.
“What is it, Toby? What's the matter?” asked the old driver, as
he peered out into the darkness ahead, as if he feared some danger
threatened them from that quarter. “I don't see anything. What is it?”
“Mr. Stubbs has thrown all my money away,” cried Toby, holding up the
almost empty bag, which a short time previous had been so well filled
with silver.
“Stubbs--thrown--the--money--away?” repeated Ben, with a pause between
each word, as if he could not understand that which he himself was
saying.
“Yes,” sobbed Toby, as he shook out the remaining contents of the bag,
“there's only half a dollar, an' all the rest is gone.”
“The rest gone!” again repeated Ben. “But how come the monkey to have
the money?”
“He tried to get at it out in the woods, an' I s'pose the moment I got
asleep he felt for it in my pockets. This is all there is left, an' he
threw away some just as I woke up.”
Again Toby held the bag up where Ben could see it, and again his grief
broke out anew.
Ben could say nothing; he realized the whole situation--that the monkey
had got the moneybag while Toby was sleeping; that in his play he had
thrown it away piece by piece; and he knew that that small amount of
silver represented liberty in the boy's eyes. He felt that there was
nothing he could say which would assuage Toby's grief, and he remained
silent.
“Don't you s'pose we could go back an' get it?” asked the boy, after the
intensity of his grief had somewhat subsided.
“No, Toby, it's gone,” replied Ben, sorrowfully. “You couldn't find it
if it was daylight, an' you don't stand a ghost of a chance now in the
dark. Don't take on so, my boy. I'll see if we can't make it up to you
in some way.”
Toby gave no heed to this last remark of Ben's. He hugged the monkey
convulsively to his breast, as if he would seek consolation from the
very one who had wrought the ruin, and, rocking himself to and fro, he
said, in a voice full of tears and sorrow:
“Oh, Mr. Stubbs, why did you do it?--why did you do it? That money would
have got us away from this hateful place, an' we'd have gone back to
Uncle Dan'l's, where we'd have been so happy, you an' me. An' now it's
all gone--all gone. What made you, Mr. Stubbs--what made you do such a
bad, cruel thing? Oh, what made you?”
“Don't, Toby--don't take on so,” said Ben, soothingly. “There wasn't so
very much money there, after all, an' you'll soon get as much more.”
“But it won't be for a good while, an' we could have been in the good
old home long before I can get so much again.”
“That's true, my boy; but you must kinder brace up an' not give way so
about it. Perhaps I can fix it so the fellers will make it up to you.
Give Stubbs a good poundin', an' perhaps that 'll make you feel better.”
“That won't bring back my money an' I don't want to whip him,” cried
Toby, hugging his pet the closer because of this suggestion. “I know
what it is to get a whippin', an' I wouldn't whip a dog, much less Mr.
Stubbs, who didn't know any better.”
“Then you must try to take it like a man,” said Ben, who could think
of no other plan by which the boy might soothe his feelings. “It hain't
half so bad as it might be, an' you must try to keep a stiff upper lip,
even if it does seem hard at first.”
This keeping a stiff upper lip in the face of all the trouble he was
having was all very well to talk about, but Toby could not reduce it to
practice, or, at least, not so soon after he knew of his loss, and he
continued to rock the monkey back and forth, to whisper in his ear now
and then, and to cry as if his heart was breaking, for nearly an hour.
Ben tried, in his rough, honest way, to comfort him, but without
success; and it was not until the boy's grief had spent itself that he
would listen to any reasoning.
All this time the monkey had remained perfectly quiet, submitting to
Toby's squeezing without making any effort to get away, and behaving as
if he knew he had done wrong, and was trying to atone for it. He
looked up into the boy's face every now and then with such a penitent
expression that Toby finally assured him of forgiveness and begged him
not to feel so badly.