t of bed with your tale of a sick boy
and luring me into this! Let me tell you, Cornwallis Stillwell, you've
played your last practical joke, and into jail you go, soon as I can
get a warrant for you! I mean it, this time, you miserable, worthless
skunk!"

Corny's mirth died under the harsh words hurled at him and a grim
closing of his square jaws showed that submission wasn't in his mind.
But it was a voice from the bed in the corner which silenced both
men, as Gerald awoke and regarded the scene.

"The monkeys are mine. I mean they are Melvin's. No, Dorothy's.
Somebody take 'em to Dorothy, quick, quick! Oh! my head, my head!"

Jim's fear of the simians vanished. With a signal to the man beyond
the window he clutched the creature from his back and hurled it
outward. Then he rushed to the irate doctor, grabbed his tormentor and
hurried with it out of doors. A moment later the door of the cage,
which the curious children had unfastened, was closed and locked and
peace was again restored.

Then said Corny Stillwell: "I'll lug those monkeys to the Lily. That
was hot talk Doc gave me! It's one thing to call myself a vagabond and
another to have him say so. I'm for the woods, where I belong, with
the rest of the brainless creatures!"

"Pshaw! He didn't mean that. You won't be locked up. The monkeys are
ours, the blame is ours, don't be afraid!" counselled Jim, with his
hand upon his host's shoulder.

But the other shook it off, indignantly. "Afraid? _Afraid!_ _I?_ Why
that _is_ a joke, indeed!" and with that, his gun upon his back, the
cage in his hand, he marched away.

CHAPTER XII.

UNDER THE PERSIMMON TREE.

Saint Augustine cocked his pretty head on one side and looked
roguishly up into Jim Barlow's face.

"Be you goin' to stay to my house all your life? 'Cause if you be I
know somethin'."

"I hope you do. But, I say, let that celery alone. What's the fun of
pulling things up that way?"

"I was just helpin'. I helps Mamma, lots of times."

Saint Augustine was the second son of Lucetta Stillwell and certainly
misnamed. There was nothing saintly about him except his wonderful
blue eyes and his curly, golden hair. This, blowing in the wind,
formed a sort of halo about his head and emphasized the beauty of the
thin little face beneath.

Ten days had passed since Jim and his mates had come to Corny
Stillwell's cabin and Gerald still lay on his bed there. He was almost
well now, Dr. Jabb said, and to