She rushed out of the room and Gran'pa and the monkey remained very still, watching each other with malicious intent. "For goodness sake don't move," I pleaded, "or the brute will only begin again." Gran'pa controlled himself and presently Molly returned with the sack. But even now it was not as easy as it looked. Here was the sack, and there was the monkey. How to get the latter into the former was a feat requiring the magic art of conjuring. I tried honeyed expressions, and even offered a succession of such things as bread, cake, a banana, a handful of walnuts, and an apple. But the monkey didn't show even the mildest interest. It was a most suspicious little beast! "You and Molly must hold the sack out," I said to Gran'pa. "Like this--with the mouth wide open! Now I'll scrape him into it." The old man and Molly caught hold of opposite sides of the sack and gently tiptoed their way to the dresser, whilst I picked up the coal shovel and mounted the chair. "Now," I whispered. "Get right underneath him. . . . Ready?" I recalled that verse of the Psalms: "_Thou shalt smite him in his hinder parts and put him to shame._" Raising the long-handled shovel, I slid it quickly along the back of the top shelf and gave a powerful forward thrust as it reached the monkey. There was a little squeak of pained surprise, a clatter of falling plates and metal, the thud of a soft body on the floor--not in the sack!--and then a brown streak crossed the linoleum in a diagonal line from dresser to door. "Quick!" I cried. "He'll be out!" The spirit of the chase was now burning in me like a flame. I dashed across the kitchen in wild pursuit. But it was too late. A metallic clatter came from the pantry, another squeak, and the little brute vanished through the open window in a whirl of scurrying arms and legs. I turned to Molly, as she hurriedly entered, and explained, simply: "That is through not shutting the door after you." "Has he gone, Daddy? Oh! What a shame! . . ." She was on the verge of tears and evidently regarded the monkey's escape principally as the loss of a possible pet for herself. We went outside into the gathering dusk. "It's hopeless trying to catch him now," I observed. "He's probably grinning down at us from the top of the walnut tree--thinking what fools we are." We stared up at the dark tangle of leaves and branches and presently Gran'pa joined us, looking very flushed and gloomy. "I expect he's up there!" I shouted, pointing heavenwards. He made no reply, his emotions no doubt being far too deep for words. "Look!" cried Molly. "I can see something moving." I gazed aloft and at last made out a shadow-like form hauling itself leisurely upwards--and upwards. . . . It was so exasperating that for one mad moment I even thought of climbing in pursuit. "Come along!" I said, at last. "Nothing but a shot gun will ever fetch him down again. He has enough nuts up there for a lifetime." Gran'pa looked at me miserably.