Four or five children from the caravans looked at him curiously as he marched along. One small boy rushed up to him, shouting in delight to see the monkey.

“A monkey, look, a monkey!” he cried. “Much smaller than our chimp. What’s he called, boy?”

“Mind your own business,” said Tinker. “Where’s Mr Tapper?”

“Mr Tapper? Oh, you mean our Grandad!” said the boy. “He’s over there, look, beside that big van. Better not talk to him now, boy. He’s that busy!”

Tinker walked over to the van and addressed the man there. He was rather fierce-looking and had a long, bushy beard, enormous eye-brows that hung down over his eyes, a rather small nose, and only one ear. He looked inquiringly down at Tinker, and put out his hand to Mischief.

“My monkey might bite you,” said Tinker, at once. “He doesn’t like strangers.”

“I’m no stranger to any monkey,” said the man in a deep-down voice. “There isn’t a monkey in the world, nor a chimp either that wouldn’t come to me if I called it. Nor a gorilla, see?”

“Well, my monkey won’t come to you,” said Tinker, angrily. “But what I’ve come to say is…”

Before he could finish his sentence, the man made a curious noise in his throat — rather like Mischief did when he was pleased about anything. Mischief looked at the man in surprised delight — and then leapt straight from Tinker’s shoulder to his, nuzzling against his neck, making little crooning noises. Tinker was so amazed that he stared without saying a word.

“See?” said the man. “He’s my little friend already. Don’t gawp so, little fellow. I’ve trained the monkey family all my life. You lend me this little chap and I’ll teach him to ride a small tricycle in two days!”

“Come here, Mischief!” said Tinker, amazed and angry at the monkey’s behaviour. But Mischief cuddled down still farther into the big man’s neck. The man hauled him out and handed him to Tinker.

“There you are,” he said. “Nice little fellow he is. What is it you wanted to say to me?”

“I’ve come to say that this field belongs to my father, Professor Hayling,” said Tinker. “And you’ve no right to bring your caravans here. So please take them all out. I and my friends are planning to camp out here.”

“Well, I’ve no objection to that,” said the big man, good-temperedly. “You choose your own corner, young sir. If you don’t interfere with us, we shan’t interfere with you!”

A boy of about Tinker’s age came sidling up, and looked at Tinker and Mischief with interest. “Is he selling you that monkey, Grandad?” he asked.

“No, I’M NOT!” almost shouted Tinker. “I came to tell you and your caravans to clear out. This field belongs to my family.”

“Ah, but we’ve an old licence to come here every ten years, and show our circus,” said the bearded man. “And believe it or not, there’s been a Tapper’s circus in this field every ten years since the year 1648. So you just run home and make no silly fuss, young man.”