Up and up went the boy, and a moment later he was calling in a kind and gentle voice to the monkey and holding out his hands.

“Come on, old fellow!  Come on down with me!” invited the climbing boy.  “They want you down below!  Come on!”

Whether Wango was tired of his tricks, or whether he had eaten all his cake and thought the only way he could get more was by coming down as he was invited, no one stopped to figure out.  At any rate the old sailor’s pet gave a friendly little chatter and then advanced until he could perch on the boy’s shoulder, which he did, clasping his paws around the lad’s neck.

“That’s the way!  Now we’ll go down!” said the boy.

“He’s got him!  He’s got your monkey, Mr. Winkler!” cried the children standing beneath the tree.

“He’s a good climber—­that boy!” said the old sailor.  “He’s as good a climber as I used to be when I was on a ship.”

Down came the boy with the monkey on his shoulder.  Of course Wango himself could have climbed down alone had he wished to, but he didn’t seem to want to do this—­that was the trouble.

“There you are!” exclaimed the boy, as he slid to the ground, and walked over to Mr. Winkler, with Wango still perched on his shoulder.  “Here’s your monkey!”

“Much obliged, my boy,” said the old sailor.  “It was very good of you.  Do you—­er—­do I owe you anything?” and he began to fumble in his pocket as if for money, while Wango jumped from the lad’s back to the shoulder of his master.

“No, not anything.  I did it for fun,” was the laughing answer.  “I’m used to climbing and that sort of thing.  I like it!”

“Didn’t you used to be in the show that was in the Opera House here last week?” asked Harry Bentley.

“Yes,” answered the boy, as he put on his coat.  “I was with the show.”

“Why aren’t you with it now?” asked Bunny.

“And where’s your sister—­the one that sang?” added Sue.

The boy’s face turned red, and he seemed to be confused.

“Well, we—­er—­I—­that is we left the show,” he said.  “Maybe I ought to say that the show left us.  It ‘busted up,’ as we say.  There wasn’t enough money to pay the actors, and so we all had to quit.”

“That’s too bad,” said Jed Winkler.  “It was a pretty good show, too.  But say, my boy, I feel that I owe you something for having gotten my monkey down out of the tree.  If you haven’t been paid by the show people, perhaps—­maybe——­”

“Oh, no, thank you!  I don’t take pay for doing things like climbing trees after pet monkeys,” was the answer.  The boy started to laugh, but he did not get very far with it.  “You don’t owe me anything.  And now I must go and get my sister,” he added.

“Where did you leave her?” asked Mrs. Newton, one of the ladies who had been in the store when the monkey began “cutting up.”

“I left her sitting on a bench in the little park down near the river front,” answered the boy.