ssed the little brown lips as tenderly as a
mother would kiss her child.

The monkey was growing more and more feeble, and when Toby had shown
this act of affection he reached up his tiny paws, grasped Toby's
finger, half raised himself from the ground, and then with a convulsive
struggle fell back dead, while the tiny fingers slowly relaxed their
hold of the boy's hand.

Toby feared that it was death, and yet hoped that he was mistaken; he
looked into the half open, fast glazing eyes, put his hand over his
heart, to learn if it were still beating; and, getting no responsive
look from the dead eyes, feeling no heart throbs from under that gory
breast, he knew that his pet was really dead, and flung himself by his
side in all the childish abandonment of grief.

He called the monkey by name, implored him to look at him, and finally
bewailed that he had ever left the circus, where at least his pet's life
was safe, even if his own back received its daily flogging.

The young man, who stood a silent spectator of this painful scene,
understood everything from Toby's mourning. He knew that a boy had run
away from the circus, for Messrs. Lord and Castle had stayed behind one
day, in the hope of capturing the fugitive, and they had told their own
version of Toby's flight.

For nearly an hour Toby lay by the dead monkey's side, crying as if his
heart would break, and the young man waited until his grief should have
somewhat exhausted itself, and then approached the boy again.

"Won't you believe that I didn't mean to do this cruel thing?" he asked,
in a kindly voice. "And won't you believe that I would do anything in my
power to bring your pet back to life?"

Toby looked at him a moment earnestly, and then said, slowly, "Yes, I'll
try to."

"Now will you come with me, and let me talk to you? For I know who you
are, and why you are here."

"How do you know that?"

"Two men stayed behind after the circus had left, and they hunted
everywhere for you."

"I wish they had caught me," moaned Toby; "I wish they had caught me,
for then Mr. Stubbs wouldn't be here dead."

And Toby's grief broke out afresh as he again looked at the poor little
stiff form that had been a source of so much comfort and joy to him.

"Try not to think of that now, but think of yourself and of what you
will do," said the man, soothingly, anxious to divert Toby's mind from
the monkey's death as much as possible.

"I don't want to think of myself,