ers and brothers come with me. It is no fun
being all by yourself."

But of course Mappo's folks were, by this time, a long way off in the
jungle woods, wondering where Mappo himself was. If they had seen him in
the net, they might have tried to get him out, but they did not see him.

The net was now pulled so tightly about the little monkey, that he was
in some pain.

"Bring up the box, and we'll put him in it," said one of the black men.
Another native came up with a box made of tree branches nailed together.
It was what is called a crate--that is, there were spaces between the
slats so Mappo could look out and get air.

"Look out. He may bite you!" called one native to another, as the crate
was placed near the net.

"Oh, I won't give him a chance!" the other native said.

"Ha! I won't bite!" chattered Mappo, but the natives did not understand
him. They knew very little of monkey talk. Mappo made up his mind that
he would be good, for his mamma had often told him that was the best way
to get along in this world. "But I'm sure she never thought I would be
caught in a net," said Mappo to himself. "I wonder if she would mean me
to be good now; and not bite. I guess she would, so I won't nip
anybody."

Mappo had very sharp teeth, even if he was a monkey, and he could give
some good hard bites. But now he was going to be good.

The net, with poor Mappo in it, was dragged up close to the crate, and
a door in the crate was opened. Then part of the net was pulled to one
side, and Mappo saw a hole where he thought he might slip out. He gave
a jump, hoping he could get back into the tall trees again.

"And if I do, I'll never eat any more cocoanut, unless my mamma or papa
gives it to me!" thought Mappo.

So he gave a jump out of the net, but, in a second he found himself
inside the wooden crate, or box. He had gone into it when the net was
open opposite the door of the crate. In another second the door was shut
and fastened, and Mappo was a prisoner in a new prison. He could not get
out, no matter how hard he tried.

"There he is, safe and sound!" chattered the natives, in their queer
language, which was as much like monkey talk as anything else. "Now we
can carry him to the coast, and sell him to the white men. Come on."

"I wonder where the coast is," thought Mappo, and I might tell you,
in case you don't know, that the coast is the seashore.

[Illustration: So he gave a jump out of the net, but, in a second,