"Well, we wish you luck," chirped the Cricket, and the Grasshopper did
also.

Away hopped the Monkey, making his journey through the tall grass of
the green meadow. The grass was rather high, and he could not see very
well. But he looked the best he could on every side, and, every now and
then, he stopped to listen.

He wanted to hear the barking of Carlo or the shouts of Dick and
Herbert, who, as he guessed, were, even then, looking for him. But the
boys looked in the wrong place, and, as it happened, the Monkey jumped
in the wrong direction.

The only creatures the Monkey met were bugs and beetles, butterflies and
birds, grasshoppers and crickets in the grass. They all spoke to him
kindly, and though some of them said they had seen or heard the boys and
the dog, none seemed able to tell the Monkey how to find his friends.

"And it is getting late, too," said the Monkey to himself, as he looked
up at the sky. "Soon the sun will set, and it will be dark. And then it
will be so much the harder for me to find Dick and Herbert and Carlo, or
for them to find me. Well, I suppose I must make the best of it."

He was a plucky Monkey chap, almost as adventurous as the Bold Tin
Soldier, and he kept jumping on through the tall grass of the meadow.
All at once, as he skipped along, being able to move quite fast now that
he was off his stick, the Monkey stumbled over a stone and fell flat
down.