manholes, and being conveniently distributed and stowed in the three
compartments of the canoe. There was not very much of anything, however,
so that when the canoe was laden and ready for its voyage, the hermit
and his man were still able to raise and carry it on their shoulders
without the assistance of Nigel.

There was one passenger whom we have not yet mentioned, namely, a small
monkey which dwelt in the cave with the canoe, and which, although
perfectly free to come and go when he pleased, seldom left the cave
except for food, but seemed to have constituted himself the guardian of
the little craft.

Spinkie, as Moses had named him, was an intensely affectionate creature,
with a countenance of pathetic melancholy which utterly belied his
character, for mischief and fun were the dominating qualities of that
monkey. He was seated on a water-cask when Nigel first caught sight of
him, holding the end of his long tail in one hand, and apparently wiping
his nose with it.

"Is that what he is doing?" asked Nigel of the negro.

"Oh no, Massa Nadgel," said Moses. "Spinkie nebber ketch cold an' hab no
need ob a pocket-hangkitcher. He only tickles his nose wid 'is tail. But
he's bery fond ob doin' dat."

Being extremely fond of monkeys, Nigel went forward to fondle him, and
Spinkie being equally fond of fondling, resigned himself placidly--after
one interrogative gaze of wide-eyed suspicion--into the stranger's
hands. A lifelong friendship was cemented then and there.