She took care to come, day after day, to some conspicuous place where Mona could have a good view of her.  But this was not all for Mona’s edification; she had another admirer, and this was a Patas, or red monkey.

This red monkey was a big fellow, three feet in length, who, with his bright, chestnut fur, with its deep shade of red, and his darkish, cream-colored legs, thought a good deal of himself.

He detested Mona monkeys, and waged war on them continually; but it was not until the fourth day that he discovered the presence of Mona, and found, to his very great disgust, that he was admiring the little white-nosed monkey, too.

This was quite enough.  Down came the red monkey so quickly, so softly and swiftly, that he was on Mona before he realized his presence.

The wicked little white-nosed monkey knew perfectly well what was going to happen, and sat up on her branch, put on her most coquettish air, and prepared to thoroughly enjoy herself.

As a rule, Mona had not much spirit, but he realized that his beloved one was looking on, and he made a brave fight.  But the red monkey of Senegal is a very powerful animal when provoked, and he was not going to stand any nonsense from a Mona monkey, and so it came to pass that, after a few minutes’ sharp fight, poor little Mona was only too thankful to creep painfully away and hide himself under some bushes, where he cried bitterly.

Sad to relate, the little white-nosed monkey, after this, took no further notice of Mona, but sneered and jeered at him whenever an opportunity offered.  She did her best to show him that she despised him, and wished to have nothing more to do with him.  And Mona took it meekly, as he took most things.

There was one tribe of monkeys, however, that even Mona would have nothing to do with, and these were the “Knuckle-Walkers.”  These Knuckle-Walkers had not yet become civilized enough to learn how to walk on the palms of their hands, and no monkey tribe, who thinks anything of itself, ever associated with the Knuckle-Walkers.  They were a distinct race of monkeys, and this fact was impressed on them rather forcibly occasionally.

Mona had lost his mother by this time.  Loving and gentle as she had been when Mona was a baby, as he grew up she grew tired of him, and, as she had other children since his birth, she had moved off with them to another part of the forest.

Mona had learned by this time that if ever the other monkeys were friendly towards him, it was simply that they wanted to make use of him in some way or other.

One eventful day they had invited him to a feast of parrots’ feathers.  The young tail feathers of these birds, if plucked out properly, contain some delicious juicy stuff in the quill parts which all monkeys love.  Perhaps, it is the difficulty of obtaining this delicious stuff which makes it seem doubly delightful; but, whatever it is, all monkeys will go through a great deal to obtain it.