"Ouch!" he cried, as he picked himself up. "I hope I haven't broken
anything."

Very luckily he had not. He was as good as ever, except that his plush
fur was rumpled a bit. But he soon brushed himself smooth again, and he
was about to hop on, when, all at once, he felt a splash of water on his
head.

"Dear me! is some one squirting water at me from a toy rubber ball or a
water pistol?" exclaimed the Monkey.

More drops splashed down, dozens and dozens of them. Then the Monkey
looked up and cried:

"Oh, it's raining! It's pouring! I'll be soaking wet! I'll be drowned
out in the rain without an umbrella or rubbers! Oh, my!"

And the rain came down harder and harder and _harder_.




CHAPTER VIII

HERBERT FINDS THE MONKEY


Poor Monkey on a Stick! Oh, I forgot! He wasn't on a stick now, was he?
Herbert had the stick, and it was just as well he had, for the Monkey,
being rid of it, could hop around better.