The Hand In The Coconut

Personal notice, dangerous my stock and trade. If the job's too tough for you to handle, you've got a job for me, George Valentine. Right full details. You know something? I'd love to be a detective. You meet so many interesting monsters.

Take the fella who's about to get in touch with George Valentine. He's a big game hunter with a cargo of hungry wildcats, boa constrictors, and other charming playmates. Now, what this old cadre wants with our George, I don't know, but I do know this.

Our let George do an adventure is called the Hand and the Coconut. And just in case you don't care for jungle stories, you should pay attention anyway, because you will learn a dandy new way to keep Juniors met out of the cookie jar.

My dear Mr. Valentine, this is a letter about monkeys. My name is Derek Stang, the same Derek Stang who's exploits in the jungle you know dark red is a boy. Yes, I'm still as alive as an old battleground of scars and fevers can be alive.

Today I'm writing my letter on the deck of a sweltering ship a South African freighter tied up at the port in your town. There's a little capuchin monkey trying to untime my shoelaces at the present moment.

as strange animals, greedy like human beings. I have trapped them many times by the simple expedient of placing this shiny, desirable object inside a hollowed-out coconut to which there is only a single small opening, an opening just big enough for a monkey's hand. Of course, the monkey reaches in to grasp the object. Inside the coconut he grasps it, his hand