Old Ben was asleep on his box, while the horses jogged along behind the other teams, and Toby failed to see anything whatever which should have caused his pet to become so excited. “Lie down an' behave yourself,” said Toby, as sternly as possible, and as he spoke he took his pet by the collar, to oblige him to obey his command. The moment that he did this he saw the monkey throw something out into the road, and the next instant he also saw that he held something tightly clutched in his other paw. It required some little exertion and active movement on Toby's part to enable him to get hold of that paw, in order to discover what it was which Mr. Stubbs had captured; but the instant he did succeed, there went up from his heart such a cry of sorrow as caused Old Ben to start up in alarm and the monkey to cower and whimper like a whipped dog. “What is it, Toby? What's the matter?” asked the old driver, as he peered out into the darkness ahead, as if he feared some danger threatened them from that quarter. “I don't see anything. What is it?” “Mr. Stubbs has thrown all my money away,” cried Toby, holding up the almost empty bag, which a short time previous had been so well filled with silver. “Stubbs--thrown--the--money--away?” repeated Ben, with a pause between each word, as if he could not understand that which he himself was saying. “Yes,” sobbed Toby, as he shook out the remaining contents of the bag, “there's only half a dollar, an' all the rest is gone.” “The rest gone!” again repeated Ben. “But how come the monkey to have the money?” “He tried to get at it out in the woods, an' I s'pose the moment I got asleep he felt for it in my pockets. This is all there is left, an' he threw away some just as I woke up.” Again Toby held the bag up where Ben could see it, and again his grief broke out anew. Ben could say nothing; he realized the whole situation--that the monkey had got the moneybag while Toby was sleeping; that in his play he had thrown it away piece by piece; and he knew that that small amount of silver represented liberty in the boy's eyes. He felt that there was nothing he could say which would assuage Toby's grief, and he remained silent. “Don't you s'pose we could go back an' get it?” asked the boy, after the intensity of his grief had somewhat subsided. “No, Toby, it's gone,” replied Ben, sorrowfully. “You couldn't find it if it was daylight, an' you don't stand a ghost of a chance now in the dark. Don't take on so, my boy. I'll see if we can't make it up to you in some way.” Toby gave no heed to this last remark of Ben's. He hugged the monkey convulsively to his breast, as if he would seek consolation from the very one who had wrought the ruin, and, rocking himself to and fro, he said, in a voice full of tears and sorrow: