There were once three monkeys who were going for a voyage in a balloon.
(This was in Monkey-land, far, far away and ever so long ago.) The
three were so much alike that it was impossible to tell one from the
other, and to make matters worse each of them answered to the name of
James. Such a thing would never do in the crew of a balloon, so the old
monkey who was in command decided that each of the three should have a
different name. The first was to be called James, the second Jemmy, and
the third Little James.
So far so good. The three monkeys climbed into the balloon, the ground
ropes were untied, and the voyage was begun. When they had reached a
height of some hundreds of feet, the captain wished to give an order,
so he called to the first monkey: "James!"
"Aye aye, sir," said all the three, running up to him.
"I called James," said the captain, looking from one to the other.
"Well, I am James," answered the first monkey.
"No, no. James is my name," said the second.
"And mine too," said the third.
"How can you be James if I am he?" cried the first angrily.
"I tell you James is my name!" cried the second.
"No, mine!"
And so the three monkeys began to quarrel and dispute. Words led to
blows, and soon they were tumbling about all over the car of the
balloon, biting, scratching, and pummelling while the captain sat in
his chair and bawled to them to stop. Every minute it seemed as though
the car would overturn, and the end of it was that Little James got
pushed over the side. He turned a beautiful somersault, and fell down,
down, down through the air, landing in a soft bed of mud, into which
he sank so that only his face and the top of his yellow cranium were
visible.
"Help! help!" bawled Little James at the top of his voice.
Up ran a pair of monkeys belonging to the neighbourhood and stood
looking at him.
"He's in the mud, brother," said one.
"Up to his neck," said the other. "How silly!" And they both began to
grin.
"Help!" cried Little James again, more faintly, for he was sinking
deeper, and the mud was nearly at the level of his mouth. "Pull me out!
Pull me out!"
"Ah, but how?" asked the first monkey, looking at him gravely.
"Wait a minute," cried the second, "I have an idea!" and he pulled out
of his pocket one of those leather suckers on a string which boys use
to lift stones. Moistening the disc, he clapped it on to Little James's
head, and began to tug on the cord with all his might.
"Hey!" cried the other monkey, running to help. "Pull, brother, pull,
and we'll soon have him out!"
[Illustration: LITTLE JAMES GOT PUSHED OVER THE SIDE]
_Crack!_ The cord snapped suddenly, and the two monkeys tumbled head
over heels. Never mind; they got another cord to repair the damage, and
this time they succeeded in pulling Little James clear of the mud.
Did I say Little James? Alas! it was only half of him! His rescuers had
pulled so hard that he had broken off short in the middle, and his two
legs were left embedded in the mud.
[Illustration: "PULL, BROTHER, PULL, AND WE'LL SOON HAVE HIM OUT"]
"Dear me!" said the first monkey, scratching his head. "This is very
sad. The poor fellow has lost his legs. What shall we do?"
"Let us make him some wooden ones!" said the other.
So said, so done. They made him a beautiful pair of wooden legs, and
Little James hobbled painfully home. By the time he reached his house
he felt so ill that he went straight to bed. "I believe I am going to
die," he said to himself. "I must make my will and set down the cause
of my death."
So he sent for pen and paper and began to write. Before very long,
however, he stopped and began to scratch his head in perplexity. "If
I am going to die," he thought, "I must be going to die of something!
Now, what am I going to die of? This must be carefully considered, for
above all one must write the truth in one's last testament!"
So he pondered and pondered, but he could not make up his mind as
to the cause of his death. Was he going to die of the fall from the
balloon, or of his broken legs, or what? Just then he happened to look
in the mirror by the bedside, and saw that there was a lump on his
forehead, which he had got while fighting with James and Jemmy in the
balloon.
"Why, of course," cried he, "I am going to die of that big bruise on my
forehead!" So he wrote it down in his will, and then, happy at having
solved the difficulty, turned over on his side and died.
And, as I said before, this all took place in Monkey-land, ever so long
ago.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: BIRDS]