Now I will leave you to imagine how scared they were, when, jumping to their feet and opening wide their eyes, they saw themselves surrounded by a gang of ugly figures, black as ink and all armed with swords and sticks.
“We are lost! We are lost!” cried the little monkeys.
“Lost?” replied Beppo. “Wait! There is always time to die.”
“But who are they?” asked one.
“They are assassins,” said Beppo.
“What do they want?”
“They want to rob us,” said Beppo. “How many pennies have you?”
“Not one.”
“Then I am as rich as you are,” said Beppo, scratching his head. Then he continued: “What queer assassins! Not one of them has the courage to advance!”
And he told the truth. For all those ugly figures that formed a circle stood stock-still, without raising an arm or saying a word. Then Beppo, advancing, said in a pretty manner: “Excuse us, Mr. Assassins. Will you have the goodness to allow us to pass?”
No one replied, no one breathed.
“Thanks for your politeness,” added the little monkey. “You must know that we are a poor family,—papa, mamma, and five children,—and we would like to go home. Do you consent?”
As before, no one replied.
“Understand,” said Beppo. “Thanks for your kindness. Come, papa, be brave! Since these gentlemen are content, make a big jump and pass over their heads. Go and await us on the other side.”
The papa monkey jumped, then the mamma, then the four little monkeys.
“Now it is my turn,” said Beppo, who was alone in the circle of the assassins. But, when he was on the point of jumping, all those assassins became so long, so high, that they looked like tall towers.
“Beppo, Beppo!” cried the other monkeys from the outside. But the poor little monkey did not have any breath to reply.
After a little time the chief of the gang said, “What do you think you are going to do?”
“I think I am going home with my brothers.”
“Do not deceive yourself, Beppo. You will not go home.”
“Then I will remain here.”
“Not even that! You will come with me.”
“With you? Not if you bind me.”
“Oh, yes. You will come with me.”
“Not even if you give me a hundred baskets of cherries.”
“Oh, yes, you will.”
“Not even if I am dead.”
The chief of the gang, without adding other words, leaned over and took the poor little monkey by the neck and placed him in the pocket of his large coat. Then he buttoned the pocket with three buttons that looked like three carriage wheels.
“Now we can go,” said the chief to his companions; and they all together took the road that led through the country.
It is impossible to relate the desperation, the cries, and yells of Beppo’s four little brothers. They called him with most acute cries; but they had only the consolation of seeing the paws of the little monkey that came out of the pocket of the chief, and that moved quickly as if they wished to ask for help.