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tail, a wide mouth, kind of a monkey-looking face, fingers and thumbs on his feet and . . .
    Come to think of it, if you’d taken away his coat and hat, he would have looked a lot like a . . . hmmmmm.
    You probably thought he was a hairy little man in a red jacket and fez, who bore a passing resemblance to a monkey. I might have made that mistake too, had I not been armed with the stern discipline of a trained observer.
    He was a monkey, see, not a man at all. I had suspected . . . there for a second he did look a little bit . . .
    At last I had cleared up the mystery. As I had surmised, the box had contained a circky monkus. A circus monkey, that is. And the next step was to open lines of communication with the little brute and to establish whether I was working for him or if he was working for me.
    That was kind of an important question, see.

Chapter Six: I Take Charge of the Monkey

    I caught my breath and then addressed him. “You are a monkey, is that correct?”
    â€œEee eeee.”
    â€œI don’t know much about monkeys, so we’ll need to establish some lines of authority here. I notice that you have sharp teeth, as well as a pair of hands that can wield a club or a rock. So I guess our basic question here is, are you taking over my ranch?”
    He just stared at me and grinned. He didn’t appear as ferocious now as he had when he’d come out of the box and scared the horses. I decided to test him. I stood up and began walking around.
    â€œOf course, another way of looking at the deal—I’m not saying this is the way it has to be, understand, just throwing out ideas—is that you’re on my ranch. One possible interpretation is that you’ve come under the authority of the Security Division. How does that grab you?”
    He grinned and clapped his hands.
    When I spoke again, I could hear boldness creeping back into my voice. “As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what has happened. You’re on my ranch and I happen to be in charge here—unless, of course, you have serious objections to that.”
    He stuck one of his little humanoid fingers into his left ear and drilled out some wax. My impression was that he was buying my program.
    I began swaggering back and forth in front of him. “Okay, let me lay out some basic rules of behavior. We’ll try to get you back to the circus as soon as possible, but in the meantime, you are on MY ranch, do you understand that?”
    â€œEee eee.”
    â€œWhile you’re on my ranch, you will follow my orders and do as I say. Is that clear?”
    He jumped up and down and clapped his hands. This was going better than I had expected.
    â€œI get the feeling that you kind of like the idea of taking orders from me, is that correct?” Again, he clapped his hands. “Well, let’s talk about that. I have no use for monkeys or anyone else who can’t take orders, who grumbles when asked to do certain jobs, or who questions my authority.”
    This time, the little rascal did a back flip. I mean, he was just by George beside himself about meeting the H.D.I.C. (Head Dog In Charge). I continued pacing.
    â€œOn other outfits, the same job as mine would carry the title of King, Emperor, Caesar, or Grand Potentate. We use the more modest Head of Ranch Security, but don’t let that fool you. I carry a lot of weight around here.”
    The monkey clapped and grinned and hopped up and down.
    â€œWhile you’re here on the ranch, you should feel free to think of me as the Grand Potentate.” He liked that! “Or, the Great Grand Potentate, if you prefer.” He liked that even better!
    â€œSpeaking of which, I just happen to have a position open on my staff. I’m looking for a guy with absolute loyalty and unquestioned obedience. I’ve never hired a monkey before, but . . .” I stopped pacing, turned suddenly, looked him square in the eyes, and said, “How would you