Free Summer of the Monkeys by Wilson Rawls Page A

time the big monkey had reached the last limb on the sycamore tree, I had a pretty good head start on him. He stopped there for a second, opened his big mouth, and showed me those long teeth again. I wouldn’t have been more scared if someone had thrown a crosscut saw at me. I dropped my beanshooter and let out a squall that didn’t even sound like me.
    “They’re going to eat us up, Rowdy,” I yelled. “Let’s get out of here!”

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    I  was so scared I didn’t look for any game trails to follow. I just ran the way I was pointed.
    Old Rowdy wasn’t scared. He would have stayed there and fought those monkeys until the moon came up, but he figured that as long as I was leaving, there was no use in hanging around, so he took off with me.
    It was tough going through the saw briers and underbrush. My clothes got hung up a few times, but I didn’t stop to untangle them. I just moved on, leaving little pieces of my shirt and overalls hanging on the bushes. I never did look around to see if the monkeys were after me, but I could almost feel the hot breath of that big monkey right on the back of my neck. By the time I had reached the rail fence around our fields, I looked like the scarecrow in Mama’s garden. I flew over the top rail and ran out into our field a little way. I stopped then and looked back for the monkeys. They were nowhere in sight.
    “Rowdy,” I said, “I believe those monkeys would eat a fellow up, don’t you?”
    From the other end of the field where he was working, Papa saw me when I came flying over the rail fence.
    “Jay Berry,” he hallowed, “what’s going on down there? Are you all right?”
    “I’m all right, Papa,” I hallowed back. “I’m just having a little monkey trouble, that’s all.”
    Papa motioned with his hand for me to come to him. After all the bragging I had done about what a good monkey catcher I was, I hated like the dickens to go and face him, but I couldn’t just run away. He wouldn’t have liked that at all. Feeling terrible, I walked over to him.
    As I walked up, Papa frowned and said, “What were you running from, Jay Berry? And look at your clothes. Why, they’re torn all to pieces. What happened anyway?”
    I couldn’t even look at Papa.
    Poking a finger in one of the holes in my britches, I said, “I was running from those monkeys, Papa. I guess I got hung up in the bushes and tore my clothes a little.”
    “Running from the monkeys?” Papa said. “Were they after you?”
    “I think they were, Papa,” I said. “I didn’t look back to see if they were chasing me, but I’m pretty sure they were after me all right.”
    “Aw,” Papa said, chuckling, “monkeys aren’t dangerous. You probably just thought they were chasing you.”
    “I don’t know, Papa,” I said. “I wouldn’t put anything past those monkeys. They’re the smartest things I’ve ever seen. They sure made a fool out of me.”
    “Made a fool out of you?” Papa said. “How did they do that?”
    “The little devils stole everything I had,” I said, “my traps, my gunny sack, apples, lunch, and all. I guess they’ve even got my beanshooter by now. When I ran off, I dropped it, too.”
    “I was afraid something like this was going to happen,” Papa said. “I think I’ve read where monkeys can be pretty smart; especially, if they’ve been trained.”
    “It’s not the little monkeys, Papa,” I said. “They don’t seem to have any sense at all. I believe I could catch every one of them. It’s that hundred dollar monkey that I’m having trouble with.”
    “I thought all monkeys looked alike,” Papa said. “How can you tell that hundred dollar monkey from the others?”
    “Oh, that’s easy, Papa,” I said. “He doesn’t even look like the little monkeys. He’s much bigger, and looks just like a little boy when he’s standing up; and is he ever smart. I don’t believe anyone could catch him in a trap.”
    “If he’s that smart,” Papa laughed, “301