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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 1
Up until I was fourteen years old, no boy on earth could have been happier. I didn't have a worry in the world. In fact, l was beginning to think that it wasn't going to be hard at all for me to grow up. But, just when things were really looking good for me, something happened. I got mixed up with a bunch of monkeys and all of my happiness flew right out the window. Those monkeys all but drove me out of my mind.
If I had kept this monkey trouble to myself, I don't think it would have amounted to much; but I got my grandpa mixed up in it. I felt pretty bad about that because Grandpa was my pal, and all he was trying to do was help me.
I even coaxed Rowdy, my old bluetick hound, into helping me with this monkey trouble. He came out of the mess worse than Grandpa and I did. Rowdy got so disgusted with me, monkeys, and everything in general, he wouldn't even come out from under the house when I called him.
It was in the late 1800s, the best I can remember. Anyhow--at the time, we were living in a brand-new country that had just been opened up for settlement. The farm we lived on was called Cherokee land because it was smack dab in the middle of the Cherokee Nation. It lay in a strip from the foothills of the Ozark Mountains to the banks of the Illinois River in northeastern Oklahoma. This was the last place in the world that any would expect to find a bunch of monkeys.
I wasn't much bigger than a young possum when Mama and Papa settled on the land; but after I grew little, Papa told me all about it. How he and Mama hadn't been married very long, and were sharecropping in Missouri. They were unhappy, too; because in those days, being a sharecropper was just about as bad as being a hog thief. Everybody looked down on you.
Mama and Papa were young and proud, and to have people look down on them was almost more than could stand. They stayed to themselves, kept on sharecropping, and saving every dollar they could; hoping that someday they could buy a farm of their own.
Just when things were looking pretty good for Mama and Papa, something happened. Mama hauled off and had twins--my little sister Daisy and me.
Papa said that I was born first, and he never saw a healthier boy. I was as pink as a sunburnt huckleberry, and as lively as a young squirrel in a corn crib. It was different with Daisy though. Somewhere along the line something went wrong and she was born with her right leg all twisted up.
The doctor said there wasn't much wrong with Daisy's old leg. It had something to do with the muscles, leaders, and things like that, being all tangled up. He said there were doctors in Oklahoma City that could take a crippled leg and straighten it out as straight as a ramrod. This would cost quite a bit of money though; and money was the one thing that Mama and Papa didn't have.
Mama cried a lot in those days, and she prayed a lot too; but nothing seemed to do any good. It was enough to be stuck there on that sharecropper's but to have a little daughter and a twisted leg, and not be able to do anything for her, hurt worst of all.
Then one day, right out of a clear blue sky, Mama got a letter from Grandpa. She read it and her face turned as white as the bark on a sycamore tree. She sat right down on the dirt floor of our sod house and started laughing and crying all at the same time. Papa said that after he had read the letter, it was all he could do to keep from bawling a little, too.
Grandpa and Grandma were living down in the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma. They owned one of those big old country stores that had everything in it. Grandpa wasn't only a storekeeper; he was a trader, too, and a good one. Papa always said that Grandpa was the only honest trader he ever knew. that could trade a terrapin out of its shell.
In his letter, Grandpa told Mama and Papa that he had done some trading with a Cherokee Indian for sixty acres of virgin land, and that it was theirs if they wanted it. All they had to do was come down and make a farm out of it. They could pay him for it any way they wanted to.
Well, the way Mama was carrying on, there wasn't but one thing Papa could do. The next morning, before the roosters started crowing, he took what money they had saved and headed for town. He bought a team of big red Missouri mules and a covered wagon. Then he bought a turning plow, some seed corn, and a milk cow. This took about all the money he had. It was way in the night when Papa got back home. Mama hadn't even gone to bed. She had everything they owned packed, and was ready to go. They were both so eager to get away from that sharecropping farm that they started loading the wagon by moonlight.
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 2
At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was a monkey--an honest--to--goodness live monkey. I was so surprised I couldn't move or say a word. All I could do was stand there with my eyes bugged out, and stare at it.
The monkey was staring at me, too. He just sat there on a limb, boring holes through me with his bright little eyes. Then he opened his. mouth like he was going to scream his head off, but he didn't make a sound. All he did was show me a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth, He looked so cute and funny, I couldn't help laughing out loud.
Rowdy had seen the monkey, too; and was having a hound dog fit. He was trying his best to run right up the trunk of the bur oak tree; and all the time his deep voice was telling that monkey it was the end of the road.
I don't know whether the monkey got mad or scared. Anyhow, he reared up on his hind legs and let out a cry. All around me the bottoms came to life with noises I had never heard before; grunts and squeals, barks and cries, and everything else.
I didn't get scared until I remembered that about the only place you could find wild monkeys was in the jungles somewhere. The very thought of jungles brought up visions of all kinds man-eating things like lions, tigers, and gorillas. Then I really got scared. My old heart started turning somersaults; and something that felt like a thousand-legged centipede jiggled its way up my spine.
"Let's get out of here," I yelled at Rowdy, and tore out down a game trail like a scalded cat.
Any second I expected something to jump out of the bushes and eat me up. Old Rowdy could usually outrun me, but it was all he could do to stay up with me.
I came tearing out of the bottoms into one of our fields. At the far end, I saw Papa hitching one of our mules to the corn planter. I headed for him, kicking up the dust.
About five feet from Papa, I threw on the brakes and said in a loud voice, "Papa, Rowdy treed a monkey."
Papa just stood there for a second looking at me, then he smiled and said, "Jay Berry, when a boy's growing up, it's all right for him to see things. I did myself, hut you're getting to be a pretty big boy now and I think it's time you quit seeing things. Rowdy probably treed a squirrel."
"No, he didn't, Papa," I almost shouted. "It wasn't a squirrel. It was a monkey--an honest-to-goodness live monkey. I saw it plain as day."
Looking at me kind of hard, Papa said, "Now hold on just a minute. I can't remember that you've ever seen a monkey before."
"I haven't seen a live one, Papa," I said, "but I have seen pictures of them. You remember that little thing Grandma gave me a long time ago. That little thing that had three monkeys on it who couldn't see anything, or hear anything, or say anything. Well, that thing that Rowdy treed looked just like they did. I'm sure it was a monkey all right."
I guess papas have a way of knowing when boys are telling the truth.
Papa frowned and looked off toward the bottoms. "Maybe you did see a monkey," he said, "but it's sure hard to believe. I've never heard of any monkeys being around here."
"Well, there's one here now, Papa," I said. "He's right down there in the bottoms, sitting on a bur oak limb, big as you please."
Papa didn't even act as if he heard what I had said. He just stood there with a thoughtful look on his face, staring off toward the bottoms, After what seemed like an hour to me, he chuckled and said, "Why, that explains it. Sure, that's it. It has to be."
"What explains what, Papa?" I asked.
"That monkey," Papa said, still chuckling. "You know all those rich people that come up here in the summer fish on the river. Well, the way I see it, one of them had a pet monkey and it got away from him."
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 2
At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was a monkey--an honest--to--goodness live monkey. I was so surprised I couldn't move or say a word. All I could do was stand there with my eyes bugged out, and stare at it.
The monkey was staring at me, too. He just sat there on a limb, boring holes through me with his bright little eyes. Then he opened his. mouth like he was going to scream his head off, but he didn't make a sound. All he did was show me a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth, He looked so cute and funny, I couldn't help laughing out loud.
Rowdy had seen the monkey, too; and was having a hound dog fit. He was trying his best to run right up the trunk of the bur oak tree; and all the time his deep voice was telling that monkey it was the end of the road.
I don't know whether the monkey got mad or scared. Anyhow, he reared up on his hind legs and let out a cry. All around me the bottoms came to life with noises I had never heard before; grunts and squeals, barks and cries, and everything else.
I didn't get scared until I remembered that about the only place you could find wild monkeys was in the jungles somewhere. The very thought of jungles brought up visions of all kinds man-eating things like lions, tigers, and gorillas. Then I really got scared. My old heart started turning somersaults; and something that felt like a thousand-legged centipede jiggled its way up my spine.
"Let's get out of here," I yelled at Rowdy, and tore out down a game trail like a scalded cat.
Any second I expected something to jump out of the bushes and eat me up. Old Rowdy could usually outrun me, but it was all he could do to stay up with me.
I came tearing out of the bottoms into one of our fields. At the far end, I saw Papa hitching one of our mules to the corn planter. I headed for him, kicking up the dust.
About five feet from Papa, I threw on the brakes and said in a loud voice, "Papa, Rowdy treed a monkey."
Papa just stood there for a second looking at me, then he smiled and said, "Jay Berry, when a boy's growing up, it's all right for him to see things. I did myself, hut you're getting to be a pretty big boy now and I think it's time you quit seeing things. Rowdy probably treed a squirrel."
"No, he didn't, Papa," I almost shouted. "It wasn't a squirrel. It was a monkey--an honest-to-goodness live monkey. I saw it plain as day."
Looking at me kind of hard, Papa said, "Now hold on just a minute. I can't remember that you've ever seen a monkey before."
"I haven't seen a live one, Papa," I said, "but I have seen pictures of them. You remember that little thing Grandma gave me a long time ago. That little thing that had three monkeys on it who couldn't see anything, or hear anything, or say anything. Well, that thing that Rowdy treed looked just like they did. I'm sure it was a monkey all right."
I guess papas have a way of knowing when boys are telling the truth.
Papa frowned and looked off toward the bottoms. "Maybe you did see a monkey," he said, "but it's sure hard to believe. I've never heard of any monkeys being around here."
"Well, there's one here now, Papa," I said. "He's right down there in the bottoms, sitting on a bur oak limb, big as you please."
Papa didn't even act as if he heard what I had said. He just stood there with a thoughtful look on his face, staring off toward the bottoms, After what seemed like an hour to me, he chuckled and said, "Why, that explains it. Sure, that's it. It has to be."
"What explains what, Papa?" I asked.
"That monkey," Papa said, still chuckling. "You know all those rich people that come up here in the summer fish on the river. Well, the way I see it, one of them had a pet monkey and it got away from him."
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 3
"About a week ago, two men stopped here at the store," he said. "Those fellows belonged to a circus train that was wrecked over on the railroad. From what they told me, it must have been a pretty bad wreck. One of the cars jumped the track and busted wide open. There were some valuable monkeys in that car, and a lot of them got away."
Grandpa caught his breath, and said, "A few of the fellows were killed in the wreck, but not many. The ones that lived were scared to death and they took off through the hills. Now that circus was just coming out of winter quarters, and had a pretty tight schedule laid out for the season. They didn't have much time between stops, but the crew did manage to lay over for a few days. They caught all but about thirty of the monkeys; and I'm pretty sure those were the ones you and Rowdy ran into"
"Grandpa," I said, "if those monkeys are the ones that away from the circus train, how do you suppose they got way over here? It's eight miles from our place over to the railroad."
"I've been thinking about that," Grandpa said. "You know, this time of the year it's hot and dry in the hills. I expect that the monkeys were having a tough time finding food and water. Now all animals have an instinct that tells them where they can find food and water. Those monkeys probably just kept going until they wound up over here in these Cherokee bottoms. There's food of all kinds for them over here--wild grapes, berries, nuts, acorns, roots, and all kinds of green stuff."
"I'll bet you're right, Grandpa," I said.
Rubbing his hands together and looking as pleased as a fox in a henhouse, Grandpa said, "Just wait until you hear about the reward. All of those monkeys but one are worth two dollars apiece. How does that sound to you?"
"Two dollars a piece!" I cried. "Boy. Grandpa, that's a lot of money. How come they're offering such a big reward for a bunch of little Monkeys."
"They're not just little old monkeys," Grandpa said. "They've been trained for acts in the circus; that's why they're so valuable. It takes a long time to train a monkey, but you haven't heard the half of it yet. You're overlooking something very important."
"Overlooking something?" I said. "What am I overlooking, Grandpa"
As if he were put out with me, Grandpa snorted and said, "well, use your head and think a little. Remember everything I told you about those monkeys and do a figuring."
Grandpa knew that I wasn't too good with figures, and he was all the time making up some kind of an old arithmetic problem for me to work on. It always made me feel bad when he did this because I never intended to be anything but a hunter or an explorer; and I couldn't see where arithmetic had anything to do with that.
"Grandpa," I said, "with all of this talk about monkeys and money, I can't even see good; much less do any thinking. What is it that I'm overlooking?" Grandpa snorted like Sally Gooden did when she had seen a booger
"That last monkey," he said. "I told you they were offering a two dollar reward for all of the monkeys, but one,"
"Oh," I said, looking sheepish. "I forgot all about that monkey. Why is it so important?"
"Important!" Grandpa said. "That's the most important monkey of the whole works. He's worth his weight in gold. They're offering a hundred dollar reward for him."
When I heard Grandpa mention that hundred dollar reward, I lost my breath completely. My throat got as dry as the ashes under Mama's old washpot, and I had a heck of a time swallowing.
I finally got hold of myself and said in a loud whisper, "A hundred dollars for one monkey! Suffering cornmeal Johnnie! Grandpa, that must be some monkey!"
Grandpa chuckled and said, "From what those fellows said, that monkey is so smart he's almost human. He's different than the other monkeys. Let's see now, what kind of a monkey did that fellow say he was? Oh, yes, he's a chimpanzee, or something like that. Anyhow, they're offering a hundred dollar reward for him."
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 4
I really bore down on it when I told Papa about that hundred dollar monkey.
Papa just stood there for a second, staring at me; then, uttering a low whistle, he turned and looked toward the river bottoms.
"Say-y-y, that is a lot of money," he said. "I didn't know monkeys were worth that much money."
"I didn't either, Papa;" I said. "It beats anything I ever heard of. All of that money for a bunch of little old monkeys!"
Papa frowned and said, "There must be more to this than we know about. I can understand a fellow paying two dollars for a monkey, but whoever heard of anyone paying a hundred dollars for one."
"Papa," I said, "Grandpa says those monkeys have been trained for acts in. the circus, and it takes a long time to train a monkey. That's why they're so valuable."
Papa was like me. He couldn't get that hundred dollar monkey off his mind.
"I don't care how long it takes to train a monkey," he said, "a hundred dollars is a hundred dollars. why, you can buy a good mule for that much money, and if you talk just right, they might even throw in the harness."
"There's a catch to this reward business, Papa," I said. "The monkeys have to be caught alive, and not harmed in any way."
"I see," Papa said, nodding his head. "I figured there was a catch somewhere. when it comes to making money like that, there's always a catch. It would be simple to shoot those monkeys; but taking them alive, I don't know about that. It could turn out to be a tough job."
"I don't care how tough it is, Papa," I said. "If you'll let me, I'd sure like to give it a try. I believe I can catch those monkeys--every last one of them."
Papa thought a second, and said, "It may not be as easy as you think it is. How would you go about catching them?"
"With these," I said,. reaching in my gunny sack for the traps. "Grandpa fixed them for me. He thinks they're the very thing for catching monkeys and not hurting them."
Papa took one of the traps and looked it over, Then he laughed and said, "leave it to your grandpa to figure out something like this; but, by golly, it does look like a good idea. Yes, sir, it sure does. It might work at that."
Handing the trap back to me, Papa said, "You know, this time of the year there's not much to do around the farm, just planting; and I can take care of that. You go right ahead and have a go at those monkeys. Maybe you can catch them; you've caught everything else in these hills."
"I'll catch them," I said, very determinedly. "You just wait and see. By tomorrow night, I'll have a sack full of them; and one of them will be that hundred dollar monkey He's the jasper I'll be looking for."
"We'll see," Papa said, laughing.
Glancing up at the sun, he said, "Now, you'd better get to the house and help your mother set those hens. I'd like to finish this field before sundown."
I thanked Papa for going along with me on my monkey-catching business, and strutted off toward the house.
So far everything was working out fine, but there was one more stump in the way. That was Mama. I was well prepared for her though. After all, I'd been living around Mama for fourteen years; and a boy can learn a lot about his mama in that length of time.
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 5
Now, I never did like to wait for anything. It seemed that half of my life had been wasted away waiting for things. I had to wait for Christmas, and Thanksgiving. Then there was a long spell of waiting for spring and fishing time. Now I was waiting for a monkey.
The longer I sat there, the more uncomfortable I became. First I got hungry, then I got thirsty. The sack I was sitting on got hard as a rock and my tail bone started hurting. I got hot and began to sweat. Deer flies and mosquitoes came and started gnawing on me. Just about the time that I had convinced myself that there wasn't a living thing within a hundred miles of me, up popped a monkey, and out popped my eyes.
I never did know where the monkey came from. One instant there wasn't as much as a jaybird around my traps; then as quick as Mama was with a peach tree switch, there was a monkey. I could have sworn that he just popped up out of the ground. Anyhow, there he was, standing on his spindly legs, staring at those big red apples.
I held my breath, watched, and waited. For several seconds, the monkey just stood, staring at the apples and twisting his head, as if he were trying to make up his mind about something. Then he started jumping around and squealing and making all kinds of noises.
The next thing that happened all but caused me to have a jerking spell. It started raining monkeys. They seemed to come from everywhere; down from the branches of the bur oak tree, from out of the under brush, and everywhere else. There were big monkeys and little monkeys, fat monkeys and skinny monkeys.
I was paralyzed. It looked like ten jillion monkeys, leaping and squealing. They bunched up about ten feet from my traps and started chattering as if they were talking something over.
Before the monkeys' showed up, Rowdy had been lying at my side. Growling and showing his teeth, he started getting to his feet. He was getting ready to tie into those monkeys and 1 knew it. I laid my hand on his back and I could feel his rock-hard muscles knotting and quivering.
"Rowdy," I whispered, "for heaven's sake, don't do anything now. Those monkeys are worth more money than we'll ever see the rest of our lives. If you make any noise and scare them away, I'll tie you in the corn crib for a year, and I won't even give you a drink of water."
Of' course, I didn't mean that, but Rowdy thought I did. He lay down again and kept his mouth shut.
One little monkey, bolder than the others, left the bunch and started over toward my traps. I reached for my gunny sack and got ready.
Just when I thought for sure that the monkey was going to walk right into my trap, the same loud cry that I had heard before rang out through the bottoms. As if the cry were some kind of signal, the monkeys stopped chattering and stood still. The one that I had thought was going to get in my trap hurried back to the bunch.
I could tell that whatever had made the cry was much closer now than it had been before, and I didn't feel too good about it.
"Rowdy," I whispered, "you keep your eyes open and whatever it is that's squalling like that, don't let it get too close to us."
The way Old Rowdy was sniffing and looking, couldn't tell whether he was mad or scared. This didn't help me at all. I put a lot of confidence in Old Rowdy; and if he was scared, then it was time for me to getting away from there.
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 6
I was trying to make up my mind what to do, when I heard the cry again. This time it was so close it made my eardrums ring. My hair flew straight up and felt as if it was pushing the top out of my old straw hat.
The noise was coming from above me. I started looking around in the treetops. On the limb of a big sycamore, I saw something. At first I thought it was a boy. It looked just like a small boy, standing there on a limb. I wondered what he was doing up in a tree, screaming his head off. Maybe he had climbed the tree and couldn't get down. I had done that several times and Papa had to come and help me down. Then again he might be a crazy boy. Daisy had told me that crazy people did all kinds of things like that.
I forgot about being scared and got kind of mad.
"Rowdy," I whispered, "I don't know if that's a boy or not, but if it is, he's sure messing things up for us. If he keeps on screaming like that, and scares the monkeys away, I'm going to wear him out."
Just then the thing moved out on the limb into some sunlight and I got a better look at it. I could see then that it wasn't a boy but was some kind of black, hairy animal. It had short stubby legs, and long arms that hung down almost to the limb it was standing on. When I discovered that it didn't have a tail, I didn't know what to think. I had never seen an animal that didn't have a tail of some kind.
It was too far away to tell what color its eyes were, but I could have sworn that they were as red as our old red rooster. Anything that had red eyes always did scare me. Goose pimples jumped out all over me. My old heart started running around inside me like a scared lizard.
"Rowdy," I whispered, in a shaky voice, "that's an animal all right, but I've never laid eyes on anything that looked like that before, and I don't like the looks of it."
I had just about decided that my monkey catching days were over; and was getting ready to get away from there, when I remembered what my grandpa had told me about that hundred dollar monkey. He had said that it was different than the other monkeys, and that thing I was looking at sure didn't look like those other monkeys.
Just then the big monkey let out another cry, and running to the end of the limb, he leaped high in the air. I was so startled by this I stood up. I thought sure that he had sprouted wings and was flying away. Instead, he lit in the branches of the bur oak tree; and using those long arms, he started dropping down from limb to limb and landed on the ground between the little monkeys and my traps.
This all happened so fast it left me a little bit breathless. I thought squirrels could move around in the timber, but they couldn't do anything that monkey couldn't do. Every move he made was as sure as Daniel Boone's musket, and as smooth as the dasher in Mama's old churn.
All the time this had been going on, the little monkeys hadn't made a sound. They just stood there in a bunch, watching every move the big monkey made.
About that time one of them decided that as long as there were some apples around, he may as well have one. He left the bunch and with his skinny tail sticking straight in the air, he started toward my traps.
The big monkey saw this and went all to pieces. He started jumping up and down, and making deep grunting noises as if he were talking to the little monkey. The little monkey seemed to understand what the big monkey was saying. He squealed like someone had stepped on his tail and scurried back to the others. Brad and Trouble

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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 8
It seemed that Rowdy and I had hardly gotten seated when here came the monkeys: leaping, squealing, and chattering.
"Boy, Rowdy," I whispered, "that sure was fast, wasn't it They must have been waiting for us. Why, the way they're acting, they must think we're playing some kind of game. They won't think it's a game when I get a few of them in the sack."
It was a little different this time than it was before. The big monkey was the first one to touch the ground, and he was standing very close to one of my traps. The little monkeys were milling around everywhere. They didn't seem to know what was going on, but every time one got close to a trap, that big monkey would fly out of gear like a mama jaybird when I wanted to take a look at her babies.
He would scream like someone had slapped a branding iron on him, and start jumping up and down, and making those deep grunting noises. He would run at the little monkeys and scare the daylights out of them. Finally he succeeded in herding them all to one side where they bunched up and stayed.
If I had known then what that big monkey was going to do next, I wouldn't have stayed there and watched it. Again he walked over close to one of my traps and stopped. I knew that I was watching a monkey, but he still looked like a small boy, standing there, trying to figure something out. Once he even bent over so that he could get a better look at things. Then he reached up with one of his long arms and scratched his head. When I saw him do that I thought of my grandpa. He was always scratching his head when he had something heavy on his mind.
"Rowdy," I whispered, "I believe that monkey knows the trap is there and he's trying to figure out how be can get the apple and not get caught. I don't think he can do it, I don't care how smart he is, he's not that smart." How wrong I was.
As if he had solved the problem, and was tickled to death about it, the big monkey turned a few somersaults. He stopped and stared straight at my hiding place. Then he let out another one of these squalls before he reached down and picked up a long stick from the ground. Holding the stick out in front of him, still uttering those deep grunts, he started beating at the apple as if he was killing a snake.
I almost jumped out of my britches when I heard the trap snap. I sat in a trance and watched that hundred dollar monkey spring every one of my traps the same way. Every time a trap snapped, he would look straight at my hiding place and squall.
He didn't use his teeth to tear the apples from the triggers. He simply used his fingers and untied the knots in the strings. There was one thing I could say for that monkey. He wasn't only smart, he was very polite, too. He saw to it that the little monkeys got their share of each apple.
After it was all over and the monkeys had again disappeared in the treetops, I looked to Rowdy for some kind of understanding. I didn't get any help from him. He was just lying there with his long ears sticking straight up, looking at me as if he were the most surprised hound dog in the world.
I was so dumbfounded I couldn't even think straight, much less say anything. For several seconds I sat there staring at the ground and trying to remember everything that had happened. The more I thought about how that big monkey had outsmarted me, the madder I got.
"Rowdy," I said, "I wish I had brought Papa's old shotgun along. I'd sure warm that monkey's hide with some bird shot. It's bad enough that he made a fool out of me, but he didn't have to laugh like that." Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 9
Sitting on a limb, with his back against the trunk, was that hundred dollar monkey. He was just sitting there, as big as you please, with a sandwich in one paw, and an apple in the other, eating away and looking straight at me.
He had passed out my apples to some of the little monkeys. They were sitting around on the limbs, chewing away and peering at me with their beady little eyes. I could see my gunny sack with the traps in it draped over a limb. I felt the anger start way down in my feet. It burned its way through my body and exploded in my head.
"Why you thieving rascal," I yelled. "You can't get away with this. You give that stuff back to me."
I saw right away that the big monkey had no intention of giving anything back to me. He stood up on the limb and started jumping up and down, and laughing fit to kill. This made me so mad I came close to cussing a little. While hanging around my grandpa's store, I had learned a few cuss words from the men, but I never did use them. I was afraid to. Daisy had told me that if any boy who wasn't twenty one years old yet cussed, his tongue would rot out of his head. So I just didn't do any cussing. I didn't figure that I could get along without my tongue But I was so mad at that monkey, I had to do something.
I grabbed up a chunk from the ground and threw it at him as hard as I could. I didn't come close to hitting him, but it made him mad anyway. He let out a squall and threw one of my apples straight at me. I had to jump sideways to keep it from hitting me.
The idea of an old monkey throwing something at me was more than I could stand. I went all to pieces. I had a darn good beanshooter and was such a good shot I could almost drive nails with it. I jerked it out of my pocket and reached for some ammunition. When I discovered that I didn't have one little rock in my pocket, that really made me mad. It looked like everything in the world was going against me.
Not far away was a washout and the bottom was covered with gravel. I ran over and jumped down in it. Dropping to my knees, I started filling my pockets with small rocks.
"Rowdy," I said, "I don't care what the Old Man of the Mountains, or anyone else, does, I'm not going to let that monkey get away with this. I'll make it so hot for him he'll think that the woods are on fire."
With my pockets bulging with ammunition, I climbed out of the washout and ran back to the sycamore tree. The big monkey was still standing on the limb, jumping up and down, and laughing his head off.
I loaded my beanshooter and pulled the rubbers back as far as I could. Taking dead aim, I let go. Old William Tell himself couldn't have shot any straighter than I did. I plunked that monkey a good one about where his belly button should have been. He let out a squall that could have been heard all over the bottoms, and started scratching at the spot where my rock had stung him. I couldn't have been more pleased.
I reared back and laughed as loud as I could. "How do you like that?" I yelled at him. "It's not so funny now, is it? Well, you haven't seen anything yet."
Chuckling to myself, I loaded up again; took dead aim, and plunked him another good one. I never should have shot that big monkey the second time, because it made him awfully mad. Turning to the little monkeys, he uttered a few of those deep grunts and then every one of them started dropping down from the sycamore tree.
This was the last thing in the world I expected the monkeys to do, and I didn't like what was happening at all. I started backing up, one step at a time.
"Holy smokes, Rowdy," I said, "they're coming after us. I didn't think they'd do that, did you?" By the 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!" Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 9
Sitting on a limb, with his back against the trunk, was that hundred dollar monkey. He was just sitting there, as big as you please, with a sandwich in one paw, and an apple in the other, eating away and looking straight at me.
He had passed out my apples to some of the little monkeys. They were sitting around on the limbs, chewing away and peering at me with their beady little eyes. I could see my gunny sack with the traps in it draped over a limb. I felt the anger start way down in my feet. It burned its way through my body and exploded in my head.
"Why you thieving rascal," I yelled. "You can't get away with this. You give that stuff back to me."
I saw right away that the big monkey had no intention of giving anything back to me. He stood up on the limb and started jumping up and down, and laughing fit to kill. This made me so mad I came close to cussing a little. While hanging around my grandpa's store, I had learned a few cuss words from the men, but I never did use them. I was afraid to. Daisy had told me that if any boy who wasn't twenty one years old yet cussed, his tongue would rot out of his head. So I just didn't do any cussing. I didn't figure that I could get along without my tongue But I was so mad at that monkey, I had to do something.
I grabbed up a chunk from the ground and threw it at him as hard as I could. I didn't come close to hitting him, but it made him mad anyway. He let out a squall and threw one of my apples straight at me. I had to jump sideways to keep it from hitting me.
The idea of an old monkey throwing something at me was more than I could stand. I went all to pieces. I had a darn good beanshooter and was such a good shot I could almost drive nails with it. I jerked it out of my pocket and reached for some ammunition. When I discovered that I didn't have one little rock in my pocket, that really made me mad. It looked like everything in the world was going against me.
Not far away was a washout and the bottom was covered with gravel. I ran over and jumped down in it. Dropping to my knees, I started filling my pockets with small rocks.
"Rowdy," I said, "I don't care what the Old Man of the Mountains, or anyone else, does, I'm not going to let that monkey get away with this. I'll make it so hot for him he'll think that the woods are on fire."
With my pockets bulging with ammunition, I climbed out of the washout and ran back to the sycamore tree. The big monkey was still standing on the limb, jumping up and down, and laughing his head off.
I loaded my beanshooter and pulled the rubbers back as far as I could. Taking dead aim, I let go. Old William Tell himself couldn't have shot any straighter than I did. I plunked that monkey a good one about where his belly button should have been. He let out a squall that could have been heard all over the bottoms, and started scratching at the spot where my rock had stung him. I couldn't have been more pleased.
I reared back and laughed as loud as I could. "How do you like that?" I yelled at him. "It's not so funny now, is it? Well, you haven't seen anything yet."
Chuckling to myself, I loaded up again; took dead aim, and plunked him another good one. I never should have shot that big monkey the second time, because it made him awfully mad. Turning to the little monkeys, he uttered a few of those deep grunts and then every one of them started dropping down from the sycamore tree.
This was the last thing in the world I expected the monkeys to do, and I didn't like what was happening at all. I started backing up, one step at a time.
"Holy smokes, Rowdy," I said, "they're coming after us. I didn't think they'd do that, did you?" By the 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!" Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 10
"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 he 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, "why don't you just forget about catching him, and try to catch the little ones? If you could catch all of them, you'd still have a lot of money."
"It's not that simple, Papa," I said. "That big monkey is the leader of the pack. He tells the little monkeys what to do, and they mind him. He won't let one of them get close to a trap."
Papa frowned and looked at me like he couldn't believe what I had said.
"Are you trying to tell me that those monkeys can talk to each other?" he asked.
"They sure can," I said. "As sure as I'm standing here, they can talk to each other. Why, that big monkey even laughed at me. He can turn flips and somersaults, and do things that you wouldn't believe he could do."
"Aw, Jay Berry," Papa said, "you're just imagining things. Monkeys can't talk to each other. Whatever gave you that idea anyway."
It was getting harder and harder to explain things to Papa. It seemed that the more I talked, the crazier everything sounded; but I wanted him to believe me, so there wasn't but one thing I could do. Starting at the very beginning; I told him everything that had happened, from my first go-around with the monkeys until I had sailed over the rail fence.
Papa listened to me, but I could see a lot of doubt in his eyes. He just stood there with a frown on his face, looking at me, and then at Rowdy. Now and then he would turn and stare off toward the bottoms. Finally, as if he had made up his mind about something, he shook his head, pursed his lips, and blew out a lot of air.
Taking the check lines from his shoulders, he wrapped them around the handles of the corn planter and said, "Well, corn or no corn, I'd like to see an animal that's as smart as all of that. Come on. Let's go and have a look at this educated monkey." Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 11
I could tell by the big monkey's actions that apples were just what he wanted for breakfast, but he couldn't seem to convince himself that everything was all right.
He stood up on his short legs and started looking things over. Once he looked straight at my hiding place, and I all but crawled down in my skin.
"Rowdy," I whispered, "he's looking for us but I think we've got him fooled this time."
As if he had finally made up his mind, the big monkey squalled again and started moving backward and forward on the limb--all the time uttering those deep grunts.
"Rowdy," I whispered, "he's talking to those little monkeys. I know he is because he did the same thing before. I wonder what he's saying to them this time."
The big monkey must have been telling the little monkeys that everything looked all right to him because here they came. A whole passel of them dropped down from the branches and started grabbing apples.
I couldn't see my net for monkeys. They were standing all over it. Very gently, I took hold of the handle with my left hand and caught hold of the blue ring with my right hand. Using the rim of the hole for leverage, I jerked down on the handle and yanked the blue ring.
Just as I pulled the ring, I heard the big monkey let out a warning cry, but it was too late. The net had already closed.
I couldn't see too well through the brush but I could tell that I had caught something, for the handle of the net was jerking in my hand more than it did when I had Old Gandy wound up in it.
When the net flipped up out of the leaves and grass, it scared the monkeys half to death. Screeching and chattering, they scattered in all directions and disappeared in the timber.
Rowdy and I threw brush all over the bottoms when we came boiling up out of the hole. My eyes all but popped out of my head when I saw that I had caught two little monkeys in my net. I was so pleased I whooped like a possum hunter whooping to his dog.
"I've got them, Rowdy," I shouted. "I got two of them. Look at em."
Rowdy was just as pleased as I was. Wagging his long tail, he ran over and started barking and growling at the flouncing monkeys.
The monkeys were so cute and I was so happy that I had finally caught one, I couldn't keep my hands off of them. I wanted to touch one. Working the handle back through my hands until the net was close to me, I poked a finger through the mesh and tickled one in the ribs.
I wouldn't have been more surprised if I had stuck my finger in the firebox of Mama's cook stove. The monkey squeaked and sank his teeth in my finger I dropped the net and did a little squalling myself.
Slinging my hand and doing a jig-jig dance, I shouted, "You bit me. What did you do that for? I wasn't going to hurt you."
Rowdy had seen the monkey bite me and he really got mad. He darted in, grabbed one of the monkeys--net and all--in his mouth and started shaking it.
"No, Rowdy, no!" I yelled. "Don't you hurt that monkey."
I yelled too late. It seemed the monkey just turned over in his skin and sank his needle-sharp teeth right in the end of Rowdy's nose. Rowdy wouldn't have turned loose of a bumblebee any faster than he did that monkey. He bawled and jumped back so fast he almost fell over backwards. Sitting down on his rear, he looked at me and started whimpering.
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 12
"Well, don't look at me," I said, "I can't help you. I got bit, too."
It was then that I realized I really had a problem. How was I going to get those monkeys out of the net and into my gunny sack.
"Rowdy," I said, "for all the good this sack is doing us, we may as well have left it at home. I can't get my hands close to those monkeys. They would eat me up."
I decided that I'd just take monkeys, net, and all to the house and maybe Mama and Daisy could help me figure out something. Holding the net out in front of me as if I were carrying a couple of poison snakes, I started for home. I hadn't gone a hundred yards when the unexpected happened. That hundred dollar monkey dropped down from a sycamore tree and landed smack in the center of the game trail I was walking on. Rowdy and I wouldn't have stopped more suddenly if we had ran face on into a white oak tree.
Standing on his short stubby legs and waving his long arms in the air, the big monkey started squalling. He lay down on the ground and rolled over and over. Every little while he would jump up and rush straight at me, showing his teeth, and uttering those deep grunts. He squalled and he screamed. Then he began picking up sticks and chunks and throwing them at me.
Usually when I got scared I could almost outrun my shadow, but I was beyond being scared, I was paralyzed. All I could do was stand there like I was in a trance, hold onto my net, and stare at that big monkey.
Rowdy was between the monkey and me. Every hair on his back was standing straight up. He was growling way down deep and showing his teeth to that squalling monkey. A full minute went by before it dawned on me that I. was still in one piece. When I realized this, I began noticing things. Every time the big monkey ran at me he only came a little way, then he would turn and shuffle hack. He was bluffing. I was so sure of it that I got a little of my courage back, but not very much.
"Rowdy," I said, in a croaking voice, "don't jump on that monkey. I don't think he means to harm us. I think he's bluffing, or at least I hope he is."
On hearing my voice, the big monkey went all to pieces. He squalled and here he came shuffling along the ground with his big mouth open and grunting. He came close enough this time to grab the metal loop of my net and start jerking on it.
Every time the big monkey jerked the net his way, I would jerk it back my way. We played tug of war for a few seconds, then he turned his end loose and ran back down the trail a little ways. He lay down in the dirt and started squalling and screaming and cutting all kinds of capers. I thought he was having a fit.
All the time this was going on, I had the feeling that the big monkey was trying to tell me something. I tried hard to figure out what it was but I was so scared I couldn't. Just then here he came again, scooting along on the game trail, screaming and making enough racket to scare a goblin to death. He grabbed my net and started jerking on it again.
It was the same thing all over. We had another session. Again the big monkey turned his end of the loose, ran back down the trail, lay down, and had and rolling, squalling fit. As I stood there holding onto my net and watching that monkey throw a tantrum, I figured out what it was that he was trying to tell me. He was me to turn the little monkeys loose.
"Rowdy," I said, "I believe that silly monkey wants to turn these little ones loose. But he can just keep wanting. After all I've gone through to catch them there'll be whiskers on the moon before I let them go. I'll fight him all over these bottoms." Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 13
All at once the big monkey stopped squalling and the bottoms got as still as a graveyard. In the silence, an uneasy feeling came over me. Great big drops of sweat popped out on me. I could almost taste the tension.
Never taking my eyes from that big monkey, I said in a low voice, "Rowdy, I don't like this a bit. I have a feeling that something is going to happen."
I had no more than gotten the words out of my mouth when something did happen. Another monkey dropped down out of nowhere and lit on the ground not over ten feet from me. Not making a sound, it just stood there staring at me.
I was having an eyeball fight with that monkey when another one came from somewhere and plopped himself down on the other side of me. The first thing I knew there was a complete circle of monkeys all around Rowdy and me. They started walking around us stiff- legged, with their tails standing straight up, and looking at us sideways.
"Rowdy," I said, "I believe these monkeys are up to something. You've been wanting to jump on them, and from the looks of things, I think you're going to get the chance."
Old Rowdy wasn't scared. He kept looking at me and waiting for the "Get-um" sign.
I couldn't stand it any longer. something had to be done. I jerked off my old straw hat, threw it at one of the monkeys, and shouted, "You get away from here. Get now!"
I may as well have been telling Sally Gooden not to jump over the pasture fence. The monkeys didn't even act like they had heard what I said. They just kept circling around and around and around. I could see that the circle was getting smaller and smaller.
I almost unscrewed my head from my neck following those circling monkeys with my eyes.
"Rowdy," I said, "we've got to do something. We can't just stand here and let these monkeys play ring-around- the-rosy with us."
Just then that hundred dollar monkey started grunting that monkey talk again. The little monkeys must have understood what he was saying, for they stopped circling us. They just stood there on their spindly legs, staring straight at Rowdy and me with no expression at all on their silly little faces.
This was too much for me. Every nerve in my body was twanging like the "e" string on a fiddler's fiddle. I was trying to figure out which way to run when it happened. A small monkey with a long skinny tail dropped down from a branch directly above me and landed right on top of my head. He grabbed a wad of my hair in all four of his tiny paws; then he leaned over and took hold of my right ear with his teeth. I dropped my net and squalled at the same time.
Shouting, "Get-um, Rowdy!" I reached up with both hands, grabbed that monkey by the tail, and started pulling. It was like pulling on the rubbers of my beanshooter. The harder pulled, the longer that monkey seemed to get. I learned something right then. The long skinny tail of a monkey is the best thing in the world to get a good hand hold on.
Closing my eyes and gritting my teeth, I gave a hard jerk on the monkey's tail. Along with a lot of my hair and skin, he came loose.
I was never so mad in all my life.
I still had a good hold on the monkey's tail, and before he could turn around and bite my hands, I started turning in a circle as fast as I could. About halfway in the middle of the third turn I let loose. He sailed out over the bottoms like a flying squirrel and lit in the top of a good-sized bush.
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 14
The little monkey didn't seem to he hurt at all. He let out a squeak and hopped down to the ground. For a second he stood on his hind legs and showed his needle- sharp teeth; then here he came again--straight at me--ready for some more fighting.
He hadn't taken over three steps when all at once he fell over backwards. He got to his feet again, took a few more steps, and this time he fell flat on his face. He was so dizzy from that whirlwind I had put him through he couldn't seem to do anything. This tickled me.
I yelled, "How do you like that, you little devil? if you jump on my head again, I'll sling you clear into Arkansas."
My fight with the monkey had taken only a few seconds. During that time, I had been so busy I had completely forgotten about Old Rowdy. On hearing a loud beller from him, I turned to see how he was making out. Boy, did I ever get a surprise.
I saw right away that Rowdy had made a terrible mistake. He was having the fight of his life. He usually enjoyed a good fight, but from the looks and sounds of things, I didn't think he was enjoying this fight very much. He didn't seem to be making any headway at all.
Rowdy was built just right for good monkey biting and the monkeys had sure taken advantage of this. It looked like every square inch of his hide had a monkey glued to it. His long legs and tail were covered with monkeys. Two of the little devils were sitting right on the top of his head, holding on with all four paws. And they had their teeth clamped on his soft tender ears. More monkeys were lined up on his back like snowbirds on a fence; biting, clawing, and squealing. The hair was really flying.
The monkeys were so quick Rowdy couldn't get a hold of them. Every time he snapped at one, he would wind up with a mouth full of air and no monkey.
I saw right away that if I didn't do something the monkeys were surely going to have a hound dog for breakfast. looking around for a good whipping stick, I spied one about ten feet away and darted over to get it. The monkeys must have realized what I intended to do, for just as I stooped over to get the stick, a little monkey flew in from somewhere and landed right in the middle of my back.
I forgot all about the stick and was trying to reach around behind me and get a hold of the monkey's tail when another one darted in and latched onto my leg. I was trying to get a hold of that one when another one came squeaking in and bit me on the hand.
In a matter of seconds, I had monkeys all over me. They were biting, clawing,. scratching, and squealing. I was hopping all over the place and making more racket than a tomcat with his tail caught in a mouse trap.
Just when things were looking really bad for Rowdy and me, from high in the bur oak tree, the big monkey let out a few grunts and a loud squall. He must have been telling the little monkeys not to eat us completely up--to save a little for the next time--because they turned us loose and disappeared in the underbrush.
Everything had happened so fast, it left Rowdy and me in a daze. I could hardly believe it. One minute we were fighting monkeys all over the place, and the next minute there wasn't a monkey in sight. We just stood there in the silence about twenty feet apart looking at each other.
Rowdy seemed to be more mixed up than I was. He just couldn't believe that a fight like that could have happened so fast and ended so fast.
I looked over to where I had dropped my net. There it was right where I had dropped it; wide open and not a monkey in it. Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 15
"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 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."
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 16
He took off his hat and scratched the top of his bald head. He cleared his throat and said, "What in the name of heaven is that?"
"It's those monkeys, Grandpa," I said. '~They didn't only steal our coconuts, they stole Daisy's ribbons, too. They decorated that sycamore tree with them: Isn't it pretty?"
Grandpa never said a word. He just grunted and kept staring at that beautiful sycamore tree. Just then Jimbo walked out onto a big limb. He was carrying a coconut in one of his paws.
Grandpa threw his head back and said, "What in the world is that thing?"
Grandpa," I said, "you've been wanting to see that hundred dollar monkey. Well, you're looking at him. That's Jimbo."
Grandpa said, "Why, that's no monkey. It's too big to be a monkey. It looks more like an ape to me.
"I don't care what he looks like, Grandpa," I said, '~that's Jimbo; and he's the smartest thing you've ever seen in your life."
Jimbo must have realized that we were talking about him, and he decided to show off a little. Waving the coconut in the air, he started hopping up and down on the limb and uttering those deep grunts.
In a surprised voice, Grandpa, said, "What's that monkey doing now?"
"He's talking to you, Grandpa," I said. "That's mon- key talk."
I saw when Rowdy took off down the road with his tail between his legs. "Rowdy!" I yelled. "You come back here!" Rowdy acted like he hadn't even heard me. He just put on a little more speed and disappeared around a bend in the road.
"Where's that hound going?" Grandpa asked.
"He's going home, Grandpa," I said. "He's afraid those monkeys might get a hold of him."
Jimbo had seen Rowdy take off for home, and it pleased him. He opened his big mouth and made the bottoms ring with his shrill cries.
Watching Jimbo, Grandpa said, "If I didn't know bet- ter, I'd say that monkey was laughing at us."
"He is laughing at us, Grandpa," I said. "He gets a big kick out of anything like this. If he were down on the ground, he'd turn a few somersaults for us."
Mumbling something that I couldn't understand, Grandpa reached down and picked up a good-sized stick.
"What are you going to do with that stick, Grandpa?" I asked.
"I'm going to see if I can't wrap it around that mon- key's neck," Grandpa said. "I don't like to have people laugh at m~much less a silly monkey."
"Oh, Grandpa," I said, "don't do that. Don't ever throw anything at those monkeys. They'll come down from the tree and jump on us, and eat us up.
"Aw," Grandpa said, looking at me. "They wouldn't do anything like that, would they?"
"Oh, yes, they would, Grandpa," I said. "I know. No one knows what those monkeys would do any better than I do. If you hit Jimbo with that stick, he'll sick those little monkeys on us, and they'll eat us up.
Grandpa must have believed what I was telling him. He dropped the stick and looked at the sycamore again.
"They're gone!" he said, in aloud voice. "Where did they go?"
I looked, and sure enough, the monkeys had disappeared. I felt like bawling. "They're gone, all right," I said. "So are our coconuts and my pony and 22. Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 17
In every way he could,. Rowdy seemed to be saying, "If you want to go monkey hunting, that's all right with me. I'll even go along with you but I'm not going hunting for those monkeys by myself"
We worked our way through the bottoms for a good quarter of a mile.. I kept calling and calling, and got no answer. Finally, I gave up. Wet, cold, and very discouraged. I sat down on an old sycamore log and buried my face in my arms.
Almost in tears, I started talking to myself. "All the monkeys are gone," I said. "I'll never see them again. I'll never ave a pony or a gun-not ever.
Rowdy could tell that I was unhappy and this made him unhappy, too. He came to me and tried his best to cheer me up. He tried to push his nose up under my arms so he could lick my face. Then he started licking my hands.
I put my arms around my old hound and said, "It's not your fault the monkeys are gone. It's not my fault either. I guess we weren't supposed to catch them."
Feeling lower than I had ever felt, I got to my feet and started for home.
I hadn't taken ten steps when I thought I heard something. I stopped and listened. I didn't hear a thing. I looked at Rowdy.
Usually, if anything made a racket, Rowdy would hear it and he'd let me know. His ears would stand straight up and he'd point his nose in the direction of the sound.
In a low voice, I said, "Rowdy, I. thought I heard something. Did you hear anything?"
If Rowdy had heard anything, he sure wasn't letting me know it. He was just sitting there on the cold ground, looking at me, and wagging his muddy tail.
With his friendly old eyes, he was trying to tell me, "No, I didn't hear anything. I wasn't listening for anything. let's get out of these cold, wet bottoms and go home where it's warm and dry."
I decided I had just imagined hearing something, and once again I started for home. I hadn't taken three steps when I heard the noise again. That time there was no doubt I had heard something. It was a low, whimpering cry and sounded like a small animal suffering.
Rowdy had heard the noise, too. His ears were sticking straight up and he was looking toward my right. I could see his nose twitching as he sniffed for the scent.
"What was that, Rowdy?" I whispered. "It sure didn't sound like a monkey. It sounded more like a little animal that's been hurt. let's see if we can find it, and maybe we can help it."
With Rowdy in the lead, we started working our way toward the sound. We had gone about two hundred yards when I stopped again to listen. For several seconds, I didn't hear a thing. Then I heard the low, pitiful cry.
"Rowdy," I said in a whisper, "whatever that is, it must be suffering. I bet that storm blew down a den tree that had some baby coons in it and one of them got hurt."
Again, Rowdy and I started boring our way through the underbrush in the direction of the cry. We had worked our way to the bank of a deep washout when I stopped and listened.
I heard the cry again and I could tell that it was coming from down in the washout. Catching hold of a tall cane growing on the bank, I bent it down and used it like a rope to let myself down to the bottom.
I could see a lot farther in the washout. No underbrush or trees grew their--just bunches of grass, cattails, and ferns.
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 18
I stood still for a moment. When I didn't hear anything, I whooped. I was answered by that low cry. By the sound of it, I could tell that I was close to whatever was making it.
I walked up the washout about a hundred yards and stopped to listen. When I heard. the cry that time, I almost jumped out of my britches. It was coming from right behind me.
I turned around, At first, I couldn't see anything. Then I saw a small pocket under the bank. Rushing water had made the hole a long time ago.
Mumbling to myself said, "Whatever it is that's crying must be under that bank. That's the only place it could be."
I eased over to the side of the washout, dropped to my hands and knees, and looked under the bank into the pocket. I almost screamed. I was looking right in Jimbo's face. I just knew he would come bolting out from under bank and jump right in my face--but he didn't.
Jimbo didn't move or make a sound. He just looked at me and batted his eyes as if he were very sleepy. He was there with his back against the wet, cold bank. All monkeys were there, too. They were huddled up against his body as close as they could get--trying to keep warm. He had his long arms wrapped around his friends as if he were protecting them.
Right away, I saw that the monkeys were in terrible shape. They were sopping wet and their small bodies were quivering from the cold.
"Holy smokes, Jimbo!" I said. "What are you doing in There? The storm's over. You've got to get out of that place and start moving around.. If you don't, you're not going to make it. Come on, let me help you "
Jimbo didn't move. All he did was open his big mouth utter that low, pitiful cry.
I felt sorry for the monkeys and wanted to help them, I didn't know what to do. I was afraid they would jump on me.
One little monkey looked as if he were already on his way to monkey heaven. He was off a little to one side stretched out on the cold ground At first, I thought was dead. Then I saw his tiny mouth open as if he gasping for breath.
I couldn't stand it. I almost cried.
Before I realized what I was doing, I reached in, caught hold of the little monkey's hind legs, and pulled him out from under the bank. Taking my handkerchief I started drying him off. I laid him down on his back and started rubbing and working his legs.
I almost rubbed all the hair off that monkey, but I must have been doing a pretty good job, because about five minutes later, the little fellow started moving. He even squeaked a few times.
Still holding the little monkey in my arms, I eased over and started talking to Jimbo.
"Come on, Jimbo," I said. "Bring your little friends and let's go down where the sun is shining. They can dry out there and get warm."
Jimbo looked at me and then he looked at the little monkey I was holding in my arms.
I started rubbing the little monkey and talking to it.
"It looks like you're going to make it now, little fellow," I said. "It's a good thing I found you when I did."
Jimbo must have realized that Rowdy and I meant him no harm. He came out from under the bank.
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 19
The little monkeys started crying. They didn't want Jimbo to leave them.
I set the little monkey down on the ground. Then I stood up and watched to see what would happen. Rowdy came over and started licking the little monkey with his warm tongue. The little monkey seemed to like it. He closed his eyes and let Rowdy wash away.
For a few seconds, Jimbo stood there watching Rowdy. Then he did something that almost paralyzed me. He shuffled over to me, caught hold of my overalls, climbed up into my arms, and laid his head on my shoulder.
I swallowed a big lump. that had crawled up in my throat, and put my arms around his cold, wet body. I started talking to him.
"Everything will be all right, Jimbo;" I said. "You don't have to worry. I'll take care of you. Let's get your little friends from under that bank and take them down to where the sun is shining, so they can dry out and get warm.
I set Jimbo on the ground, went over to the pocket, and got down on my knees. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as I reached back under the bank and got hold of a monkey. I just knew that some needle-sharp teeth would sink into my hand, but nothing happened. The monkeys must have been too cold and stiff. There was no bite left in them.
Jimbo watched every move I made, but he made no effort to jump on me. He seemed to realize that I was trying to help his little friends.
Five times I reached under the bank and pulled out a little monkey. They were in worse shape than I had thought. They sat where I put them down--all humped up, crying and shivering.
Talking to myself, I said, "I think that's about all I can carry at one time."
Gathering the little monkeys in my arms, I started in a dog trot down the washout to a patch of sunshine I had noticed. Rowdy and Jimbo came with me. About thirty minutes later, I had all of them drying out in the sun.
I had kept count as I made each trip with an armload of monkeys. I could hardly believe it. There were twenty-eight of the little fellows and Jimbo--twenty-nine in all.
In no time at all, the warm rays of the sun had the monkeys pretty well dried out. I picked up one little fellow and rubbed his fur with my hand. He was as dry as Grandma's yarn.
The monkeys made no effort to bite either Rowdy or me. I couldn't understand it. In fact, they seemed to be happy that we were there. I could pick one up and pet it any time I wanted and it wouldn't bite me. The storm and the terrible night must have had something to do with it.
I was pretty sure if could get Jimbo to go with me, I'd have no trouble with the little monkeys. They would follow him and that was just what I wanted. I decided I'd give it a try.
Taking Jimbo's paw in my hand, I said, "Come on, Jimbo, let's go to the house. We have a good corn crib that's warm and dry. I think you and your little friends will like it. It'll sure beat those cold, wet bottoms. You'll have plenty to eat, too. I promise you that."
Jimbo must have understood me, or had already made up his mind to come along willingly. He made no trouble at all.
We climbed out of the washout and started down a game trail. I was afraid to look back to see if the little monkeys were following. If they didn't follow us, there was nothing I could do about it just then--absolutely nothing.
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 20
We hadn't gone far when a little monkey came zipping by us. With his skinny tail high in the air, he' took off down the game trail as fast as he could run. The first thing I knew, the monkeys were all around us: in underbrush on both sides of the trail, swinging through the trees, and hopping along on the trail.
They were following us. I couldn't help grinning to myself.
"Boy, boy," I said in a low voice, "if my luck will just hold out, I'll have my pony and gun."
I could almost feel them in my hands. I was within a hundred yards of the house when Daisy came out on the porch. At first, she Just stood there leaning on that old crutch of hers. I saw her close her eyes, shake her head, and then very slowly open her eyes again.
She started yelling, "Mama! Mama! Come and look! Hurry, Mama! You won't believe it! Jay Berry's coming home with a thousand monkeys."
I'd never seen twenty-nine monkeys grow into a thousand so fast.
Mama came flying out of the house. She had a tea kettle in her hand. I saw her mouth open and I thought she was going to say something, but she must have lost voice because I didn't hear her say a thing.
I really couldn't blame Mama for being so surprised at she was seeing. It's not every day that a boy comes home holding hands with a chimpanzee, and with Twenty-eight little monkeys hopping around all over the place. Things like that just don't happen every day. "Don't just stand there," I yelled. "Somebody--go open the corn-crib door for me."
Mama and Daisy started running at the same time. Mama still had the tea kettle in her hand. I had never seen my little sister run so fast. That old crutch of hers didn't seem to touch the ground at all.
I saw Papa come to the door of the blacksmith shop. He must have been sharpening something because he a file in his hand. For a second or two, he just stood there, looking at me and all those monkeys. Then he dropped the file and came toward us in a long lope.
Mama and Daisy were standing off to one side of the corn crib when I came walking up. I couldn't help but smile at the look on their faces. I could see that Mama wasn't looking at me. She had her eyes glued on Jimbo. She was still holding the tea kettle in her hand.
"Jay Berry," she said in a frightened voice, "that thing's not a monkey. It looks like a young gorilla. You be careful."
"Aw, Mama," I said as I reached down and picked Jimbo up in my arms, "he's not a gorilla. He's a monkey and he's as tame as Old Rowdy is. Can't you see that he's not going to hurt anything?"
"No, I can't see!" Mama said in a loud voice. "Have you forgotten the day you and Rowdy came in, bitten all over?"
"That wasn't their fault, Mama," I said. "That was our fault, mine and Rowdy's. They thought we were going to hurt them. That's why they bit us."
"Jay Berry," Mama said in a firm voice, "I don't care what you say, you put that monkey, or whatever it is, in the corn crib this minute. Lock the door and keep it locked!"
"Aw, Mama," I said as I started toward her with Jimbo; still in my arms. "Why don't you pet him a little? you'll see how friendly he is and you won't he scared of him. He won't hurt you."
I had never seen my mother move backward so fast. Her face turned as white as a hen's egg.
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 21
"Jay Berry Lee," Mama yelled, "you get that thing away from me. If you don't, you're going to get the whipping of your life, and I mean it."
From the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes, I knew she meant what she said.
"Aw, Mama," I said, "I don't see why you're so scared of Jimbo. He's not going to hurt you."
Just then Daisy came over to me and said, "Jay Berry, do you think Jimbo would let me pet him?"
"Sure," I said. "Do you want to hold him?"
Daisy nodded her head and held out her arms.
I passed Jimbo over to her. He wrapped his long arms around her neck and whimpered as if his feelings had been hurt.
Turning her head to look at Mama, Daisy said, "Oh, Mama, he's such a friendly little thing."
Seeing Daisy with Jimbo in her arms did Mama more good then anything. She lost a lot of her scare; but not quite all of it.
She said, "It does look like he's friendly. I didn't know monkeys got that big."
Papa came over. "How did you catch them?" he asked. "It couldn't have been very hard. You weren't down in the bottoms long."
"I can't understand it, Papa," I said. "I didn't have any trouble at all. I think they wanted to he caught. They sure acted like they did."
I told Papa everything that had happened from the time Rowdy and I entered the bottoms until I found the monkeys under the bank.
Papa said, "I think that storm had more to do with your catching them than anything else. These monkeys are tame. They've lived in cages all their lives. They've never been out in a storm like that and it probably scared them half to death. It's no wonder they wanted to be caught."
"It's a good thing that Jimbo knew where that hole was," I said. "I don't think they could've made it through that storm if they'd stayed in the trees. They almost didn't make it anyhow."
I turned around to see what the little monkeys were doing. I couldn't see one anywhere. I got scared. I just knew they had gone back to the river bottoms.
"Where did the little monkeys go?" I shouted.
Papa laughed and said, "They all hopped up in the corn crib."
I hurried to the door of the corn crib and looked in. The little monkeys were sitting all over the place. Each one was holding a big ear of corn. They were tearing at the shucks with their needle sharp teeth.
Brad and Trouble
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SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS by Wilson Rawls excerpts part 22
With Rowdy in the lead, we started for the barn. On the way, Ben Johnson explained how valuable monkeys were to a circus. He said a circus just wasn't a circus without monkeys.
When I opened the corn-crib door; we saw Jimbo sitting on top of the corn, eating an apple The minute he saw Ben Johnson, he dropped the apple and started grunting as he hopped up and down on his short legs. Then he raised his long arms in the air and started toward us. He jumped from the corn-crib door right into Ben Johnson's arms.
Mr: Johnson wrapped his arms around Jimbo and buried his face in his fur. In a choking voice, he started telling him how happy he was to see him, how much he had missed him, and how much he loved him.
Jimbo whimpered like a little puppy.
I thought Mr. Johnson was going to cry.
Mama said, "I didn't know that animals could have much love for anyone."
I looked at Daisy. She was leaning on that old crutch. There were tears in her eyes.
Ben Johnson looked at his brother and said, "Tom, you think you could back the truck up to the corn-crib"
"Sure," Tom said; "that would he easy, but I don't know about getting through the gate. It looks a little narrow to me."
"We can take out one panel of the rail fence," Papa said. "You'd have plenty of room then."
"You wouldn't mind?" Ben Johnson said.
"Naw," Papa said. "That's one thing about rail fences--they're easy to tear down and easy to put up."
After the truck was backed up to the door, it was no trouble to load the little monkeys.
Mr. Johnson locked the truck door. He turned to me and said, "Well. Jay Berry, I guess it's payday."
He reached in his back pocket and got his money poke. He opened it and took out the biggest wad of money I had ever seen.
My eyes almost popped out of my head.
"Let's See," he said, "two times twenty-eight is fifty-six, and one hundred for Jimbo--that comes to one hundred and fifty-six dollars."
I held out both hands and stood speechless while he stacked the money into my trembling hands.. In a voice choked with emotion, I thanked him. I folded the money and crammed it down in my pocket.
I heard Daisy say in a low voice, "Mama, he's really going to be hard to get along with now that he's rich."
Tom Johnson walked over to Papa with four small blue cards in his hand. "Mr. Lee, I'd like you and your family to have these," he said. "They're lifetime passes to our circus."
Papa thanked him for the cards and said, "We're poor folks and don't get out of these hills very often; but next year when your circus comes to Tulsa, we'll try to be there."
"You do that," Tom Johnson said. "Look me up and I'll see that you don't miss anything."
Mama said, "Would you fellows like a cup of coffee or something to eat?"
Ben Johnson turned to Mama. "Thanks, Mrs. Lee," he said. "We'd like that fine but I'm afraid we don't have the time. We're in a terrible hurry. Our circus is leaving Tulsa for Arkansas tomorrow and we have to be there."
Brad and Trouble
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I Am 8 And I Love Apes
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HELLO!!! I AM A MONKEY!!! YES! A MONKEY!!!
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What the f**k is this site all about?
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Gimme bananas... I WANT F*CKIN BANANAS!
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hi my name is kevin horton my great uncle is the author of both where the red fern grows and summer of the monkeys. i to am part cherokee indian that comes from my moms side of the family.my grandmother gladys day she just passed on two months ago and as a little boy my grandmother would tell me stories of growing up there.both stories break my heart for they have a good learning capabilities to our young generations to come and i am proud to be part of that.12/26/2000
kevin l horton
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this web site is so gay. dont ever let me see this again
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Monkeys are kool. they should not be bad named . the storys were good

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I am a monkey,a cheeky little monkey!This is evalution-the monkey-the man-then the gun!spank the monkey!!!! woooo hooooooo!
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i think summer of the monkeys is a cool book i give alot of credit to the person who wrote it all out! :)
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