And right there lay the Major's greatest trouble. If the pitcher
hadn't been fastened he would have run off on three legs, to the
woods, where he might have tried in peace and quiet to get at the
sugar inside it.

On the whole, Major Monkey spent a most unhappy quarter of an hour in
the henhouse. And the worst moment of all came when the window dropped
with a loud bang.

Then the sound of steps on the threshold made the Major turn his head.

There stood Farmer Green with a broad smile on his face, and Johnnie
Green with his mouth wide open and his eyes bulging.

And with them was a dark-skinned man, short, and with rings in his
ears, and a bright neckerchief tied about his throat.

"Aha-a!" cried the little man. "Look-a da monk! He greed-a boy!" And
picking Major Monkey up in his arms, jug and all, he patted him
fondly, saying, "Ah-a! Bad-a boy! He run-a da way from da ol' man,
no?"

Then--for a soldier--Major Monkey did a strange thing. He began to
whimper. But there is no doubt that he was weeping because he was
glad, and not because he was sorry.

The little, dark man was his master.

And the Major was very, very fond of him. He knew, suddenly, that he
had missed the little man sadly while he roamed about Pleasant Valley.