After a time his
hands grasped the crossbar and he pulled himself up astride it,
waving one hand to those below him.
Bruiser, however, was not there. The baboon had scrambled to the
top of the mast on which there was a golden ball, and on this he
perched some eight or nine feet above Teddy Tucker's head.
"Now where is your baboon?" called a voice.
"Where he cannot get away from me unless he jumps into the
Mississippi," answered Teddy quickly.
"How are you going to get him?" called Mr. Sparling.
"I'll see when I get to him."
With great caution, the lad climbed up the slender top of
the mast.
Bruiser's tail hung over, while he clung with his feet, glaring
down at Teddy. The baboon realized that he could not get away.
"Come down here!" commanded Teddy, grabbing the beast's tail and
giving it a mighty tug.
Bruiser's grip gave way. Down shot Teddy and the baboon.
But the cross-tree saved him, as the lad figured that it would.
One hand was clinging to Bruiser's tail, the other arm thrown
about the mast.
Now, Bruiser took a hand. With a snarl of rage he fastened
in the hair of Teddy Tucker's head, causing that young man
to howl lustily.
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