“Two monkeys in a cage,” yipped Bid Stricker. 

“Open that hatch,” roared Peg, furious. 

“Listen!” screeched Bid. “One of the monkeys can talk. Just like a human bein’.” 

“I’ll ‘human bein’’ you,” threatened Peg, “if you don’t let us out of here. You know me, Bid!” 

“Beg some more,” jeered Bid. “We like it.” 

Well, I can’t begin to tell you how awful we felt. We are pretty smart. We think that we are a lot smarter than the Strickers. It was galling [24]to us therefore to have them get the upper hand of us. And we were further sickened in the thought that they would throw our stage and seats into the canal. Our day’s work would be for nothing. But what could we do to defend our property? Not a thing. We were helpless—trapped like rats in a wire cage. 

[24]

Suddenly a shrill scream pierced our ears. 

“Oh!…” cried Bid, and there was unmistakable fear in his voice. “Oh!…” 

There was a scurry of feet … the sound of diminishing gasping voices … silence. 

And all this, mind you, when we had expected to hear the sound of ripping stage boards! 

“They’re running away,” cried Peg, bewildered in the unexpected turn of affairs. 

“Let us out,” I screeched, pounding on the hatch in the hope that the enemy would return and release us. 

And now comes the weird part of my story—the beginning of the mystery. 

“Where … are … you?” 

The voice came from the other side of the hatch, a peculiar whispering voice. 

“We’re under the deck,” cried Peg. “We’re locked in. Let us out. Please.” 

I suddenly clutched my chum’s arm. [25]

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