The Rockingdown Mystery. Enid blyton
“Lost your tongue?” said the boy. “Well, I’ve lost my monkey. Have you seen one anywhere?”
The boy did not talk quite like anyone Snubby had ever heard. He had a slight American twang, and yet he sounded foreign—Spanish—Italian—what could it be? Nor did he look English, for all his blue eyes and fair hair.
Snubby found his tongue. “Yes!” he said. “I have seen a monkey. I saw one about five minutes ago. I’ll take you to where I saw him.”
“Her,” said the boy. “It’s a she-monkey. She’s called Miranda.”
“Is she really yours?” said Snubby. “I’ve always wanted a monkey. I’ve only got a dog.”
“Lovely dog, though,” said the boy, and he gave Loony a pat. Loony at once rolled over on his back and put all his legs into the air, doing a kind of bicycling movement upside down.
“Clever dog,” said the boy. “Why don’t you get him a little bicycle?” he said, turning to Snubby. “See how well he pedals upside down. Get him a bike with four pedals and you could make a fortune out of him. ‘The only bicycling dog in the world!’ ”
“Do you really mean it?” said Snubby eagerly. He was ready to believe anything wonderful about Loony. The boy laughed.
“No. ’Course not. Come on, where’s this tree? I must find Miranda—she’s been gone an hour!”
Miranda was in the tree next to the one that Snubby had first seen her in. The boy gave his soft little whistle and the monkey leapt down like a squirrel, landing in his arms. He fondled her and scolded her.
“You know,” said Snubby, trying to keep the excited Loony away from the monkey. “You know, I told my two cousins about the monkey and they absolutely refused to believe me. I suppose you wouldn’t play a little trick on them for me?”
“If you like,” said the boy, turning his blue eyes on Snubby with an amused look in them. “What do you want me to do?”
“Well—do you think you could make Miranda walk all round my cousins, or something like that, and then come back to you?” said Snubby eagerly. “Then I could go up and they’d tell me they’d seen a monkey too and I’d disbelieve them like they disbelieved me!”
“Not much of a trick,” said the boy. “I’ll tell Miranda to drop on them from a tree and then leap off again. Give them a bit of a fright.”
“Could you make her do that?” said Snubby.
“You bet!” said the boy. “Where are these cousins of yours? Come on—we’ll liven them up a bit. We won’t show ourselves, though.”
They crept towards the river. Snubby made Loony crouch down quietly. He pointed Diana out to the boy, and then Roger. The boy nodded. He said a few quiet words to the monkey who answered him in a funny little chattering voice and then sped up into the trees. The two boys watched. Loony looked most surprised to see the monkey disappear into the tree above him. Cats did that, but this creature didn’t look or smell like a cat.
Miranda made her way to the tree immediately above Roger, who was still lying asleep with his hat over his face. The monkey leapt down and then jumped full on top of Roger. Diana turned in astonishment, her eyes almost falling out of her head when she saw Miranda leaping down on Roger and then leaping up into the tree again and disappearing.
Roger woke with a start and sat up hurriedly.
“What fell on me?” he said to Diana.
“A monkey,” said Diana. “A little brown one.”
“Oh, don’t you start about monkeys,” said Roger crossly. “Anyone would think this place was full of monkeys the way you and Snubby go on about them.”
“But, Roger—honestly, it was a monkey,” said Diana, bewildered.
“You and Snubby can go on telling me all day long that you keep seeing monkeys, but I shan’t believe there’s a monkey about even if I see one!” said Roger.
And at that very moment he saw Miranda! He saw her sitting on the strange boy’s shoulder, as he came along with Snubby, both of them grinning widely.
Roger had to believe in the monkey then. He was very astonished. “Is that your monkey?” he said to the boy. “Is it a pet?”
“Sure,” said the boy. “You a pet, Miranda?”
Miranda chattered and put a little brown paw down the boy’s neck. “Don’t tickle,” he said. “Shake hands with these people, and show your manners.”
Loony sat by open-mouthed whilst Miranda gravely held out a little paw and allowed Roger, Diana and Snubby to shake it. The boy sat down beside them. Loony at once made a rush for Miranda. He was jealous.
Quick as lightning the monkey leapt off the boy’s shoulder and on to Loony’s back. She held on tightly and he couldn’t get her off till he rolled on the ground. The children roared.
“Poor old Loony—nobody’s ever tried to ride him before,” said Diana. “What did you say her name was—Miranda? What a queer name for a monkey.”
“Why?” said the boy. “I thought it was a mighty pretty name when I first read it, and it just suits Miranda—she’s pretty too.”
None of the three children thought Miranda was pretty, though they all thought she was sweet and amusing. Still, they were used to people thinking their pets pretty and marvellous even though they mostly weren’t.
“She’s cute, isn’t she?” said the boy, as Miranda began to turn head over heels very fast indeed. “She can do no end of tricks. Turn cartwheels, Miranda.”
Miranda turned dozens of cartwheels, going over and over on hands and feet without stopping. Loony regarded her solemnly. No—this couldn’t be a cat. No cat he had ever seen behaved like this.
“What’s your name?” asked Roger, liking this strange boy just as much as Snubby did.
“Barney—short for Barnabas,” said the boy.
“Where do you live?” asked Snubby.
The boy hesitated. “Nowhere at present,” he said. “I’m just tramping around.”
This was puzzling. “What do you mean? Are you on a hiking trip, or something?” asked Diana.
“You might call it that,” said the boy.
“Well, where’s your real home?” persisted Snubby. “You must have a home!”
“Don’t pester Barney,” said Roger, seeing the boy hesitate again. “You’re always so inquisitive, Snubby.”
“It’s all right,” said Barney, and he rubbed Miranda’s fur gently. “Actually I’m looking for my father.”
This sounded queer. “Doesn’t your mother know where he is?” demanded Snubby.
“My mother’s dead,” said Barney. “She died last year. I don’t want to talk about that, see? I don’t know much about her or about myself either, but I’m trying to find out. My mother was in the show business—you know, travelling around in a circus, and attending fairs and things like that. She was wonderful with animals. I thought my father was dead—but just before she died my mother told me she didn’t think he was. He was an actor—acted in Shakespeare plays, she said—and she ran away from him after she’d been married three months. He doesn’t know anything about me.”
“Don’t tell us all this,” said Roger awkwardly. “It’s your own private business.”
“I want to talk to somebody,” said Barney, looking at them with his startling blue eyes. “But there’s been no one to talk to. Well, when my mother died I felt sort of lonely, and I couldn’t settle