s mouth. "There; you may manage to carry
him now," they seemed to say. "But take care, he may slip out of his
bonds even yet, if you do not hold him fast."

The monkey glanced up at the countenance of Arthur, who looked down
kindly at the creature, and carried it gently so as not to hurt it.

"I should like to give it a name," he said; "something appropriate."

"We will consult Ellen on that important matter," I answered. "When she
sees how active it is, I think she will call it Nimble."

"Oh yes; that would be a capital name. Do let us call it Nimble," he
exclaimed.

"You and Ellen shall choose its name, and I am sure that John will agree
to whatever you decide," I replied.

This made Arthur perfectly contented, and he walked along stroking the
monkey and talking gently to it, till the animal evidently began to feel
confidence in him, and lay perfectly quiet in his arms.

The Indians did not as yet appear satisfied with the amount of game they
had killed, and were on the look-out for more. I kept my gun in
readiness for a shot. "Pray, Harry, do not kill another spider monkey,"
said Arthur; "it would make Nimble so unhappy, I am sure." I promised
that I would not; indeed, I had not the heart to wish even to shoot one
of the merry little creatures.

We soon afterwards, however, came in sight of several much larger
monkeys, with stouter limbs, but excessively active, and furnished with
long, strong, flexible tails. I recognised them as the species called
by the Portuguese _Macaco barrigudo_, or the big-bellied monkey. The
Indians shot one of them with their blow-pipes, the rest wisely swinging
themselves off. The creature had a black and wrinkled face, with a low
forehead and projecting eyebrows. The body was upwards of two feet in
length, and the tail not much less. As the Indians held him up, Arthur
and I agreed that he looked exactly like an old negro.

By the evening we had as many birds and monkeys as we could carry.
Arthur offered to carry some of the birds in addition to Nimble,
declaring that he could not bring himself to eat our four-handed game.
"And that negro-looking old fellow, I would starve rather than touch
him!" he exclaimed. "And as for Domingos, I should think him a cannibal
if he were to eat him." Arthur, as we went along, kept trying to
prevent his little charge from seeing its dead companions. "I am sure
that it would make him unhappy," he observed; "for how can he tell that