On top of the bunch, holding a banana, sat a small monkey with a dried-up manlike face. “Wait!” Jack whispered. “I’ll give him a surprise!” Creeping up very softly, he suddenly popped up within five feet of the monkey. Oddly enough, the monkey did not appear to be the least bit startled. Looking Jack in the eye, he stared at him solemnly for a space of seconds, then with both tiny hands gripping it, he held out the banana. “Somebody’s pet!” Stew exclaimed. “He sure is!” Jack agreed. “And look! There’s a silver chain around his neck!” “Here, monk!” Going closer, he patted his shoulder, and said in a quiet voice: “Jump, boy, jump!” And the monkey jumped. A moment later the little monkey was nestled in Jack’s arms. “What do you know about that!” Stew exclaimed. “And what do you know about this?” Jack echoed. “This chain on his neck is tagged. Why, it’s the identification disk of an Army nurse. What do you suppose that means?” “Might mean almost anything,” said Stew. “Perhaps she came ashore here, shipwrecked, or something, and the natives ate her.” “That, in my estimation, is out,” Jack said, stroking the monkey’s head. “How come?” “If that were true, this monkey must have belonged to the natives. The theory would be that they saved the tag and put it round the monkey’s neck.” “What’s wrong with that?” “Just this. Monkeys are very particular about the company they keep. If this one belonged to the natives he’d never make friends with a couple of plane-wrecked white men.” “All right then, he belonged to the nurse. The monkey escaped, but the nurse was eaten.” “I still think you’re wrong,” Jack insisted. “It will be dark in a short time,” he added. “We’ll just wander over for a look at the natives. Then perhaps we’ll know what to think.” “And perhaps we won’t,” Stew laughed softly. “Anyway, it’s worth trying.” CHAPTER X “HIST THERE! YOU!” Two hours later, peering from a thicket of tall ferns and sprouting palms, the two boys were witnessing one of the most fascinating moving pictures from real life that they had ever chanced upon. About a broad fire of coals was a group of thirty or forty natives. Some were seated on palm logs, and some were standing. All were talking and laughing. “Um-m-m! Lead me to it!” Stew whispered. The object of his desire hung dripping over the glowing coals. A small porker, bound to an iron rod that slowly turned him over and over, had reached a shade of delicious, golden brown. “And barbecued pork is the thing I am fondest of.” Stew’s whisper betrayed real agony. “We’ll barbecue one some time,” was Jack’s only reply. He had been studying the group intently. They were a motley throng. There were big, dark-skinned men in the group who could have placed him across a knee and broken his back. There were dark-eyed, laughing children that anyone could love.