"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, and I don't care what I'll do,"
sobbed the boy, passionately.
"But you must; you can't stay here always, and I will try to help
you to get home, or wherever it is you want to go, if you will tell
me all about it."
It was some time before Toby could be persuaded to speak or think
of anything but the death of his pet; but the young man finally
succeeded in drawing his story from him, and then tried to induce
him to leave that place and accompany him to town.
"I can't leave Mr. Stubbs," said the boy, firmly; "he never left me
the night I got thrown out of the wagon an' he thought I was hurt."
Then came another struggle to induce him to bury his pet; and
finally Toby, after realizing the fact that he could not carry
a dead monkey with him, agreed to it; but he would not allow the
young man to help him in any way, or even to touch the monkey's
body.
He dug a grave under a little fir tree near by, and lined it with
wild flowers and leaves, and even then hesitated to cover the
body with the earth. At last he bethought himself of the fanciful
costume which the skeleton and his wife had given him, and in this
he carefully wrapped his dead pet.
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