NICHOLAS CRIPS seated-himself on a warm stone, on a convenient boulder spread the contents of yesterday's "Age." The "Age" contents on this occasion was the lunch of Mr. Nicholas Grips. Nickie had been given the meal half-an-hour earlier by a kind soul in one of the suburbs, to whom he had pitifully presented his urgent need of sustenance of an inviting kind. Very adroitly Nickie the Kid had dwelt upon his necessities, while impressing the lady's with the eccentricities of a peculiarly capricious appetite.
It was the day after the distressing incident in Biggs's Buildings. Mr. Crips was no longer dressed in his clerical garments; they were carefully stowed away in a niche in a riverside quarry where he had long kept his wardrobe. To-day Nickie was dressed in the rags of a simple mendicant.
The strongly melodramatic adventure the previous day did not seem to distress Mr. Crips; he ate heartily, but had only reached his second course, which was represented by the chicken, when his attention was attracted by a very lean, very pale, hollow-eyed, sad stranger who had seated himself on a sloping tree nearer the river, and was eyeing the banquet hungrily.
Nickie the Kid, was not selfish. When his own needs were fairly met he could be generous with anybody's property, even his own. He tapped the chicken's breastbone invitingly with his penknife, and addressed the stranger.
"May I offer you a little lunch, sir?" he said urbanely, with quite the air of a generous host.
The long, lean man shook his head in mute melancholy, but accepted the invitation as an offer of friendship, and approached nearer, seating himself on a rock facing Nickie's banquet.
"No, thanks, boss," he said.
"You'll forgive me," said Nickie, after wrenching a mouthful from the back of the pullet, "but you look famished."
"I am," answered the stranger.
"Well, help yourself. These garlic sausage sandwiches are superb. Try the beer."
Nickie pushed his jam tin forward.
The other shook his head very regretfully.
"I mustn't," he said. "Fact is, my livin' depends on me not eatin', an'I've got a wife an' kiddies to support."
Nickie paused with the bottle half-way to his mouth.
"Your living depends on your not eating?" he ejaculated. "What, do you earn anything by starving, then? By Jove, that's a quaint idea."
"I earn all I get by starvin'. My name's Cann—Matty Cann, but I'm known professionally as Bony-part. Ain't yeh seen me advertisements up the main street? I'm drawed on a big poster outside Professer Thunder's Museum iv Marvels, I'm the livin' skelington."
"He isn't ruining himself with your upkeep," Nickie.
"No." replied the Living Skeleton. "I'm allowanced off an' I've got t' eat on'y what he gives me—that's in our contrac'. If I eat more an put on flesh out I go. There's a clause in ther contrac' what sez I'm li'ble t' be fired if goes above seven stone seven. The previous livin' skelington got the run at Barnip fer breakin' out. He was the only original. I'm just a sort iv understudy."
Nickie clicked his tongue sympathetically. "Well," he said, "you might pick a bone. That wouldn't be very fattening, and it might delude your stomach with the idea you were having something to eat."
Bonypart, the Living Skeleton, took the wish-bone with a few shreds of chicken on it.
"Thanks," he said, "it might be a comfort." He sucked the bone fondly.
"You said that Professor Thunder's only original living skeelton broke out at Barnip. What happened to him?"
"He went on the spree," said Matty Cann.
"Drink?" queried Nickie.
"No, food. He got at a bar spread in the Shire hall at Barnip, an' afore they missed him he ate enough fer ten Shire Councillors. He completely rooned that banquet. That was the third time he'd gone on th' spree, an' ther Perfesser 'ad warned him if it 'appened again he'd get the shoot."
Nickie the Kid grinned.
"It isn't a Profession that would suit me," he said. "I have an instinctive fondness for meals. I knew the travelling show' business was a hungry game but I never reckoned on starvation as a means of earning a livelihood."
"Oh. 'tisn't all bad," said Bonypart eagerly. "There's th' Missin' Link, fer instance; he a glutton. Blime, th' food that Missin' Link gets makes me lose all patience, an' sometimes I'd like t' get right up from my chair, an' bite him. He's in the 'ospital just now, sufferin' from his over—feedin'. It's a judgment on him."
"A monkey in the hospital!"
"Well, he ain't exactly a monkey. He was a man done up something like one o' them hoorang-hoo-tangs. Yeh see, part o' Perfesser Thunder's show is called the Descent of Man. It contains ten different kinds of monkeys, from Spider, a little cove 'bout th' size iv a rat, up t' Ammonia, what's a big griller. Th' Missin' Link, he comes next; but as I was sayin' he's out iv it just now, bein' ill, an' Perfesser Thunder ud give ez much ez two quid er week fee a good, reliable Missin' Link what wouldn't over-eat hisself." The Living Skeleton was allowing an inquiring eye to roam over Nickie the Kid.
"I was thinkin' yon was just bout th' build fer a Missin' Link," he said.
"What, me?" cried Nickie.
The Skeleton nodded, and Nickie was silent for a moment, lost in thought.It was very necessary that Nickie should sink his identity for a time.Here was a magnificent opportunity. "Has the Missing Link much to do?" heasked.
"No," replied Matty Cann. "He's just gotter he careful not t' over-eat hisseif, as I was savin'. Yeh see, people what come in t' th' show gives him buns, an' lollies an' things, an' if he's a glutton he' bound t' be knocked out."
"What else does he do?"
"Oh, prowls round in the cage."
"Anything else?"
"An' scratches hisself."
"Yes."
"An' growls."
"That seems easy."
"Well, it all depends. If yer gifted that way it's easy enough, but real scratchin' an' natural growlin' takes a bit o' doin'."
"How's this?" asked Nickie.
He scratched himself in approved monkey style, hopped briskly over the stone, then sat up, and growled a deep, guttural growl.
"That's it—that's it, t' th' life!" cried Bonypart in amazed admiration. "Why, you're er natural born artist, that's what you are. If I could growl an' scratch like that I'd be a Missin' Link t'-morrer. No more living skelingtons fer me."
"Look here," said Nicholas Crips seriously, "how long does the MissingLink have to remain in the cage?"
"The show opens et one in th' afternoon, close at five, opens again at seven, an' closes et arf-pas ten."
"And has the Missing Link to be growling' and scratching all the time?"
"No, not all the time. If there ain't any people in he kin lie in er corner on th' stror under his blanket an' sleep, an' sometimes he kin stay lyin' on the stror when there's on'y a few people in, so long ez he growls a bit, an' stretches hisself. There's a lot in stretchin' hisself proper."
"Like this," said Nickie. He reached out one leg, clawed with his left hand, and yawned cavernously.
"Th' very identical," said Bonypart admiringly. "You was meant t' be a Missin' Link. Y'iv got all th' natural gifts, an' with th' proper hide drawn on over yeh, an' yer face made up a bit, nobody ud ever think you was anythink else but a true African Missin' Link, born an' bred."
"Are you quite sure the Missing Link has nothing else to do?" askedNickie, cautiously.
"Positive, Missin' Links is scarce; they has pretty much their own way. Hold on—he's gotter 'ang a bit by one hand from a bar what goes through his cage, an' pretent to be sleepin'."
Nickie the Kid had a contemplative expression "Bless my soul," he said, "there are strange ways of earning a living, and I'm not sure that my way is the easiest after all."
He drained the bottle.
Professor Thunder's Museum of Marvels was established in a shop in Bourke Street, Melbourne. The shop window was curtained with large posters, one representing a tall man, very thin even for a skeleton, sitting at a table, tying knots in his limbs. The other pictured a strange, hairy monster, half human, half monkey, which was labelled "Darwin's Missing Link." On a kerosene case at the door stood Professor Thunder himself, appealing to the populace to pause and contemplate the "astonishin' marvellous pictorial representations," and assuring five small boys that these were "living, speaking likenesses" of the wonders within. "No deception, ladies and gents, no deception!" he cried.
Professor Thunder was his own "spruicher;" his eloquence was remarkable, his voice had the carrying power of a steam whistle, and the penetrating qualities of a circular saw. He was a quaint product of the show business, having been born in a museum and bred in an atmosphere of cheap theatricals.
"Step inside! Step inside! Step inside!" cried the Professor. "There you will behold our extraordinary educational collection of Nature's mysteries, known as 'The Descent of Man,' described by the nobility, the scientists, and the faculty as the most complete representation of man's descent from the apes ever presented to an intelligent audience. There you will behold Bonypart, the miraculous, the bone man who has mystified all the doctors and amazed millions. There you will behold Ephraim, the enlightened pig; Madame Marve, the unrivalled seer, and last, but not least, Mahdi, the Missing Link, pronounced by travellers, medical men, and Darwinian students to be the one and only authentic and reliable Missing Link discovered by mortal man. And the price is only sixpence. Step up! Step up!"
The people stepped up, and saw the living skeleton, a thin, long, melancholy man sitting on a chair, in limp tights, showing his bony knees; the educated pig, that did astonishing things at the bidding of Madame Marve; and the Descent of Man, represented by several monkeys of varying sizes, a gorilla, and the awe-inspiring Missing Link.
The cage of Mahdi, the Missing Link, was some what dark, and the terrible form of the mystery loomed in the dusk, heavy and formidable. He was as big as a man, somewhat lank, and covered with coarse hair the colour of cocoanut matting. This afternoon, when the early patrons entered, they found him hanging limply by one arm, like a great ungainly bat.
"The Missing Link always reposes in this manner in his native wilds," said Madame Marve, in the chaste tones she assumed when imparting valuable instruction "but he is otherwise very human in his tastes and habits."
"Has 'e a vote, ma'am?" asked a facetious labourer.
A stout lady prodded Mahdi with her umbrella, and he flopped on all fours on the floor of his cage, and sprang forward with a hoarse growl, reaching a great, hairy paw out of the cage.
"Lor blime, missus, yer ortenter do that to another woman's 'usband," said the facetious labourer.
The people pressed about Mahdi's cage. They threw nuts at him, and offered him lollies and cakes, and the Missing Link went through many surprising contortions, and rolled about, and capered, and growled in a most realistic way, while Madame Marve gave a full and exciting account of his capture in the jungles of Central Africa by a party of hunters, of whom Professor Thunder was the leader and the conspicuous hero.
"Mahdi was then very young," said Madame. "He has been reared with great tenderness, and is now probably the most valuable, and he is the rarest animal in the world. Professor Thunder has been offered thousands of pounds for Mahdi, but refuses to part with him, preferring to take the marvellous monkey-man through the world for the education and edification of his fellow-creatures."
Mahdi swung on his bar again, flopped, and then ran up the back wall several times, after which he sat in a corner and scratched himself industriously, grinning at the people every now and then, or uttering a growl that gave the women delicious cold shivers.
The attention of the patrons was next drawn to the educated pig, and presently the show-room was empty again for a minute or two. Madame Marve addressed Mahdi the Missing Link.
"You must growl more, my boy," she said. "The people like the growling, it terrifies them, and they talk to their friends about it. You really must keep on growling. I don't care if you don't scratch quite so much, but you must growl."
The Missing Link pushed his drab muzzle through the bars.
"Keep on growling," he protested. "Excuse me, madame, but I'm damned if I do unless you give me more beer. I've got a throat like a hot-box."
Old friend of Mr. Nicholas Crips would have recognised those crisp tones instantly. Nickie the Kid had found his vocation.
NICHOLAS CRIPS entered into formal agreement with Professor Thunder, sole organiser, director and owner of Thunder's Celebrated Museum of Marvels, to impersonate Mahdi, the Missing Link, at a salary of thirty-seven and sixpence a week and keep, Nickie undertaking to observe the Sabbath, to behave becomingly and in no circumstances to disclose his identity to persons outside the show.
The clause entailing strict observance of the Sabbath was a wise one from the Professor's point of view, as a previous Missing Link had taken advantage of Sunday being an off-day to get unreasonably drunk, in which state he betrayed the confidence of his employer, and disclosed the most sacred secrets of the profession.
Nickie was assured that the job would be a permanency if he proved himself a zealous, efficient Missing Link, and as he understood that even when on show Mahdi was expected to do little more than curl up on the straw in his cage and growl, he gratefully accepted. The contract was signed.
So far Nicholas had discovered the new skin he was compelled to don to be the only serious disadvantage attached to his office. It was tight-fitting, coated with monkey-like hair, and covered him entirely, the face being disguised under an attached mask with a flat nose and patches of hair. The skin laced down the spine, but the laces were artfully hidden under the fur.
At least Nickie was leading man of the small company. Ammonia (whose cage adjoined the more sumptuous one in which Nickie was exhibited, and whose open jealousy of Mahdi was a source of no little inconvenience to Nickie the Kid) was an item of considerable interest, but the Link was the culminating point of the monkey's progress the climax, so to speak, and he enjoyed great popularity and many nuts. Possibly the nuts were the true source of Ammonia's dislike.
Nickie the Kid had been three days figuring as the star of Professor Thunder's Museum of Marvels, and was growing accustomed to his suit, and to the situation. The Professor himself was a born vagabond, and his wife, Madame Marve, the somewhat plump prophetess, who read fortunes, and was mistress of the educated pig, had the Gipsy instinct and took life easily. Nickie had a good deal in common with both, and they promised to be a happy family.
In his proudest moments Professor Thunder was not likely to overestimate the intrinsic value of the Missing Link as he stood, for tucked away under the singlet that lay between him and his hairy simian cuticle was a store of treasure with the product of which Nicholas Crips dreamed of living a life of ease and luxury when certain matters had blown over and it was wise for him to resume his proper place in the animal creation.
The murder in Briggs's Building had stirred up a tremendous sensation, but as yet no one had thought of associating either the Rev. Andrew Rowbottom or the tall, fashionably-dressed lady with the crime.
The show was not yet open for the evening, and Mahdi, the Missing Link, was permitted the privilege of free speech, denial of which was one of the most painful disadvantages of his public career.
"Well, how're yeh likin' th' grip, Nickie?" asked Matty Cann, otherwiseBonypart the living skeleton.
"It is not exacting." said the Missing Link, dreamily, "but it has its drawbacks to a man accustomed to finding favour with the ladies."
"Drawbacks," exclaimed Bonypart. "What price living skelingtons? You wouldn't believe it, but I'm considered rather a fine man in flesh. It almost breaks my poor wife's 'eart t' see me in such redooced circumstances. I tell yeh I never thought I'd come down t' this."
Nickie peered at the living skeleton from his cage. "I believe being a missing link has its advantages." he said. "After all, a missing link does have time off, but a living skeleton has no relaxations."
"Dry up, Mahdi, an' get on your perch," cried Madame Thunder, "TheProfessor's openin' up."
The door was opened, and the Marvels heard Professor Thunder declaiming on the astonishing quality of his exhibits.
"Roll up! Roll up! Roll up!" exclaimed the professor in his deep, steam-organ tones. "Roll up, and see Mahdi and Marve—Mahdi the Missing Link, the great man-monkey, captured in the gloom junge of Darkest Africa, the Connectin' link 'tween man an' the beasts; Marve, the Mystic, the prophetess, enchantess and Egyptian seer, who will read your future in your palm, exhibit her educated pig, and display the occult science of the Oriental wonder-workers!'
"Here they come," said Madame, arranging her rich Egyptian costume, made by sewing a design of spangles on a curiously-patterned bed quilt.
The Missing Link hooked himself to the crossbar with one hand, drew up his hairy legs, and remained suspended in a limp attitude, as two women, with frightened children clinging to their skirts, entered the show.
Madame took charge of the audience, and lucidly explained the Darwinian theory, beginning with Spider, the tiny ape, and tracing the descent of man through Ammonia, the gorilla, to Mahdi the Missing Link, and Mahdi romped about the cage, growled and gibbered, poking his amazingly human face through the bars for fleeting moments.
When not engaged telling fortunes, performing a few primitive illusions, or putting Ephraim, the Educated Hog, through his manoeuvres, Madame was anything the occasion required. The Professor had great faith in her. She had once carried the show through successfully when the Living Skeleton, the Missing Link, Ammonia the Gorilla, and Ephraim were all incapacitated through an influenza epidemic.
They had a big evening, the holiday-makers flocked in so freely that Professor Thunder abandoned his position as "spruicher," or public speaker, and took charge of the interior, acting as explainer and interpreter, leaving his little daughter Letitia to take the sixpences at the door.
The night was warm, and as the stream of patrons was incessant, Nickie the Kid found his duties most oppressive, and had serious thoughts of shedding his skin.
Professor Thunder greatly excited the interest of the crowd by announcing that a sum of one pound and a silver medal valued at one guinea would be given to any person courageous enough to follow Madame Marve's example and enter the cage containing Mahdi, the Missing Link.
Nickie was resentful, as this meant a most energetic demonstration of savagery on his part, following a fawning and submissive manner, while madame, wearing a large sombrero and a man's coat, moved about in the cage, cracking a whip.
The people gathered before the cage gazed upon madame with stupid awe, while the strange monster capered, or prostrated himself in great humility at her bidding. When she had withdrawn, and after the Professor had made his prodigal offer, it was Mahdi's duty to stimulate ungovernable ferocity, in order to deter any too-venturesome spirits. Nickie did his best. He bounded madly round the cage, he tore at the straw, tooth and nail, he roared terribly, and snatched furiously at the people near the bars. The crowd retreated in terror; all save one woman, a grim-looking female with the indurated face of an old-established lodginghouse-keeper.
This woman came forward, and jabbed at Mahdi the Missing Link with her umbrella. "Gerrout, yeh brute!" she said. Mahdi backed into shades carefully provided at the back of the cage, and the old woman reached her umbrella through the bars, and made a hit at him. Mahdi seemed to cower.
"A prize of one pound and a silver medal to any person daring enough to enter the cage of Mahdi, the man-monkey!" repeated Professor Thunder, with great hardihood.
"Wha's that?" gasped the woman.
Professor Thunder repeated his intrepid words; aside he hissed "Bellow, damn you—bellow!"
Nickie bellowed; he jumped with desperate energy, he clawed up the straw, but he remained in the shadow.
"A pound!" cried the woman. "A pound jist fer goin' in with that ape?Done! I'm yer man."
The Professor was thunderstruck, so also was Mahdi the Missing Link. Never since Thunder invested in his famous fake of the man-monkey had man or woman been found courageous enough to beard the monster in his den for a pound. Never had any been expected to. Professor Thunder stood non-plussed.
Madame went to the back of the cage. "Howl!" she whispered. "Howl! Do you want to ruin us?"
Mahdi howled, he growled ferociously, he made an attempt to savage Ammonia. His paroxysms were fearful to look upon, but the woman did not seem to mind in the least.
"Open the door," she said.
"Madame, are you quite resolved to take this terrible risk?" said Thunder, gravely, feeling keenly the approaching loss of a hard-earned pound.
"Terrible pickles!" said the woman. "I've bin managin' men fer twenty years, an' I ain't goin' t be stopped be no monkey."
"Very well, madam, the consequences be upon your own head." (Aside toNickie) "Roar, curse you, roar!"
The Missing Link crept to the back bars in an imploring attitude. "No, no; for the love of heaven! don't let her in!" he whispered to Madame Marve.
Professor Thunder burst into one of his frenzied street orations to drown the voice of the Missing Link, and threw open the cage door. The crowd huddled hack, horrified. One girl screamed, but the heroine from the old-established lodging-house boldly entered the cage, swinging her gamp.
It was expected that the strange monster from the dim, damp jungles of Darkest Africa would spring upon her, but he did nothing of the kind; he rushed to the back of his cage, and cowered down, burying his face in the straw.
The heroine butted Mahdi the Missing Link with her gamp. He gave no sign. She kicked him. He bore it meekly, crouching lower. There was some tittering in the crowd.
"Get up, you nasty brute!" said the woman, and prodded the horrid monster.
Nickie didn't even growl. The woman kicked, she kicked with force. She booted the terrible brute round the cage. She seemed to glory in her triumph, and when Mahdi butted into a corner and refused to stir, she took him by one leg, and towed him twice round the cage, and the tittering the crowd swelled to yells of derisions and ribald laughter, while Professor Thunder pranced about and cursed furiously. To save his show from being ruined with ridicule, he rushed in, seized the woman, and bundled her from the cage.
"I can't permit on to risk your life in this mad way," he blurted; "any moment he might round on you, and then they'd pinch me for manslaughter. Here is your pound, madam; go, and thank God you have been permitted to live through this fearful experience." He paid with the grand air of a hero of melodrama. His manner was so impressive it almost restored confidence, but Mahdi, the monster, remained crouched at the back of his cage, his face hidden in the straw, and nothing would induce him to come out till closing time.
When the last patron was gone, and the doors were closed, ProfessorThunder approached Nickie.
"Well, my friend, you're a pretty cheap kind of baa-lamb for a Missin' Link, I must say," he said haughtily. "Why in the devil did you allow the woman to make such a holy show of you?"
"What was a man to do?" answered Nickie.
"A Missin' Link that knew his business would have scared her out of her rags. By Heavings, man, you are no artist—you will never be an artist."
"You couldn't scare that woman with a den of lions and an old-time German dragon, Professor."
"Bosh! Rot! My last Missin' Link would have had her in fits, sir."
"Allow me to know, please."
"What do you know about her in pertickler, fellow?"
"Well, it's ten years now since I ran away from her, Professor, but I ought to know something about her. She's my first error of judgment. She's my wife!"
THE Missing Link was recognised by patrons of Thunder's Museum of Marvels as no ordinary animal. The Professor's show being conducted in a small shop, and owing nothing of its popularity to expensive advertisments in the "Amusements" columns, received no recognition from the press, consequently fame on a large scale did not come to Professor Thunder. Nevertheless the Museum of Marvels enjoyed a reputation in humble circles, and here Mahdi was talked of, and accepted without a question, as an astonishing vindication of the Darwinian hypothesis about which the Professor discoursed so fluently in his three minutes' lecture before the cage. It had only taken Nicholas Crips two weeks to assert himself, and already he had introduced many novelties into the recognised "business" for Missing Links.
Occasionally a too-inquisitive visitor with a taste for natural history became obtrusive and sought close investigation. It was part of Nickie's duty to fill such visitors with a proper respect for Missing Links, but ninety-nine out of every hundred accepted Mahdi in good faith. It is an axiom in the show business that the people who can't be deceived are so few that they are not worth considering.
It was a hot day, life in the cage was very oppressive. Nickie the Kid was painfully thirsty. Probably no Missing Link since the day when man began to emerge from the monkey had ever been so sorely afflicted with the craving for alcoholic stimulants.
Mahdi had a fixed allowance his beer supply was rigorously prescribed by Professor Thunder, and precisely measured by Madame Marve. It was this precision that prevented Nickie being quite content with an artistic career.
He had had his first pint. The second pint was not due for two hours. Nicholas Crips was not satisfied he would survive the time. The place was stifling.
"Yar-r, get to blazes!" snorted the Darwinian hypothesis, and hurled his water tin at Ammonia.
Ephraim, the pig, grunted pitifully, and Matty Cann, the bone man, drowsed in his chair. Madame Marve was sleeping, too, and the ripple of a monotonous snore came from the Egyptian tent.
There were no patrons, the town was still, prone under the great heat. Professor Thunder entered, mopping his brow, and the Missing Link pressed against the bars.
"How is it for a drink?" he said. "You've got to be generous, Professor, or I resign. There you are, a drink, or my resignation—the loss of the most versatile Link in the profession."
The Professor entered the Egyptian tent, and presently returned with a pint pannikin which he passed through to Mr. Crips. Nickie seized it greedily, raised it to his lips, and then changed his mind, and hurled it at Thunder with a furious imprecation.
"Water!" snarled the Missing Link, "Water! You have the heart to insult aChristian thirst with water on a day like this, you blastiferous heathen!Let me out! I resign. Let me out of this monkey house."
Professor Thunder laughed and returned to his post at the door, and the baffled Link pushed his face through the bars and poured a torrent of frantic objurgations in the direction of the street door.
"Nickie, fer th' love iv 'Eaven let er man sleep," pleaded the Living Skeleton pitifully. "I was just a-dreamin' iv pickled pigs' feet an' fried taters—crisp, brown, fried taters. Oh, Lord!"
"Be quiet!" snarled the Missing Link, "and do a perish here from thirst while that cow of a man swills his fill and makes a fortune out of my mortal agony? No, hanged if I do."
The Missing Link howled again, and Madame Marve, that she might sleep peacefully, broke rules and regulations, and smuggled him another half pannikin of beer.
"Lucky dog!" sighed the bone man. "If I was t' tear the place up they wouldn't give me half yard iv grilled steak an' er pint iv chips."
After tea, Mahdi was very quiet on his straw. The Professor and Madame Marve were making their usual dinner of cold boiled leg of mutton, bread and beer, in the Egyptian tent. The other animals were sleeping.
The Link was not sleeping, he was amusing him self in a quaint way at the back of his cage. He had a small lassoo made of cord, and was throwing it at an object near the wall at a distance of five feet.
Every time Nickie failed he swore in a patient heart-broken way, but he persisted, and eventually success crowned his efforts. An exclamation of great joy burst from his lips.
"No silly business there, Mahdi," cried Madame warningly from her tent."The public will be here in half a tick."
Mahdi dropped his string and curled in a knot, but presently he started cautiously hauling in his prize. A long hairy arm reached out and clutched it, and hastily hid the object in the straw. The treasure was a bottle three-parts full of brandy, Professor Thunder's extra special.
The Missing Link's performances during the next hour were curious and perfunctory: the animal was not himself. If Missing Links were habitually intemperate one would be inclined to say this Missing Link had taken something too much. During a quiet quarter of an hour Mahdi got the key of his cage from the Professor's ordinary vest, which had been left hanging within his reach, opened the door, and going quietly along the wall behind the cages, reached the back door, opened it, and stepped into the night.
Two minutes later a monstrous shape came out of the shadows of a right-of-way into the well-lighted City Street, a strange, misshapen animal, with a head half-human half-monkey, with a body like that of an ourang-outang and long, flapping feet. The brute was covered with short, tufted, reddish hair, and in its hand it carried a brandy bottle containing about half-a-cup of spirit.
The first to confront Nicholas Crips, the Missing Link, was a woman. She did not attempt to escape, but stood right in his way, staring at him with eye frantic with terror. Fear had struck her motionless but not dumb; she shrieked in Mahdi's face again and again. Her screams echoed along the street.
"Thash all ri', missus," said the Missing Link affably, "I don' know you, an' excuse me; I don' wanter hear you sing." He brushed her aside, and rolled drunkenly into a wine shop.
In the wine shop a large mirror served as a door screen. Nickie saw his grizzly shape reflected in this, and after surveying it in stupid surprise for a few moments, smashed the glass with his bottle, and rolled out again.
Amazed men assembled at the door, fell back in awe before the Missing Link, and Mahdi crossed the road, carrying the neck of the broken bottle, his quaint feet, like huge hands, flopping in the dust. Mahdi's make-up did Professor Thunder great credit—it was grotesquely inhuman. The shape of the costume demanded a stooping attitude and shambling gait. Only in a good light and at close quarters could the deception be seen.
People came running from all directions. A cab horse backed in terror before the monster, reared, plunged furiously and bolted into a peanut stall.
Nickie waddled on, blissfully unconscious of the sensation he was creating. He invaded a secondhand clothes shop.
"Shemima, mother of der brophet!" gasped Moses Aaronstein, throwing out his palms in a gesture terror, and Moses bolted through a side door.
The Missing Link appropriated a spangled skirt and trailed it after him down the street. The shouting crowd followed at a respectful distance. In a small eating-house the Link encountered two men eating fried steak and onions. They beheld him with indescribable emotion, glared for a moment and fled. A girl coming in with a tureen of stew dropped the lot on the floor, threw her apron over her head, and fainted amongst the broken crockery and scattered viands.
For a moment the strange inebriate stood swaying over the prostrate girl, making a grave, drunken effort to grasp the situation, then the Italian proprietress came into the room humming a cheerful strain, and carrying a burden of fried sausages. She beheld the horror, uttered a piercing scream, and dashed up the narrow stairs. Nickie went up the stairs after her, anxious to explain. The horrified people pressing at the front door and the windows saw him pass out of sight. There was now a large, excited crowd in the street. All sorts of rumours were afloat. Already it was stated that the mighty gorilla had killed three men and eaten half a horse. Two policemen were busy beating back the crowd, and collecting evidence from excited onlookers who had seen nothing.
At this stage, Professor Thunder dashed through the assemblage. TheProfessor was in an agitated frame of mind.
"What is it?" he cried. "Has anyone seen a Missin' Link—a dark brownMissin' Link?"
Ten persons explained at once.
"He's in there now," cried a bewildered cabman, pointing to the eating-house. "He's ate er girl, an' he's out after the missus with a club."
"'T went up them stairs," cried a trembling woman.
Yells from the crowd in the road brought the people surging into the middle of the street. Mahdi had opened a front window, and stepped out on to the roof of the verandah. He was dancing clumsily on the corrugated iron, and gesticulating, with his long, shaggy hands. Nickie was declaring with the warmth of absolute conviction that he was a king, but the yelling of the crowd rendered his speech inaudible.
"I'm a king!" cried the Missing Link. "Behold in me your rightful sovereign. Bow down t' ye ri'ful sovereign, ye base born!" He threw five fried sausages into the crowd.
The crowd continued yelling, and Nickie broke into a vain-glorious song, and capered like an idiot brandishing a Vienna loaf.
Professor Thunder beat on his forehead like the baffled villain in the play. "Ten thousand furies!" he howled, and dashed for the stairs.
While the Missing Link was still capering, Professor Thunder appeared at the window. He climbed through. The crowd loudly applauded his courage. He descended upon Mahdi, he seized him. The crowd cheered vociferously. Professor Thunder kicked the Missing Link. He dragged him back to the window, and kicked him through. The crowd nearly went frantic in its appreciation of such heroism.
Presently the Professor appeared on the stairs, dragging the hairy monster after him. He dragged it by the leg. It bumped cruelly on the steps. The Professor pulled the Missing Link to his feet, took him by his rudimentary tail and the scuff of his neck, and ran him out of the shop. He ran the grizzly monster up the street as a publican ejects the unwelcome drunk. The crowd followed, cheering still.
It was an inspiriting sight. The Missing Link running on tip-toes, his eyes projecting, seemingly in imminent danger of falling on his nose, the Professor furious, two wild policemen with drawn clubs following after, ready to do or die should the terrible brute break loose again.
The Professor ran Mahdi into the show, kicking him through the door. He kicked him into his cage, and ten seconds later was vociferating on his kerosene box again, strenuously inviting the crowd to roll up, roll up, roll up, and see the wonderful Missing Link, the only genuine man-monkey in captivity.
The rush that followed was unprecedented in the history of Professor Thunder's Museum of Marvels. The people flocked in. Prices were put up to a shilling all round, but still the people flocked, and Letitia took nearly a bucketful of silver before public interest was exhausted.
Meanwhile, Madame Marve stirred up Nickie in his cage, and made him grin and howl and caper for the edification of the crowd, whose souls his street escapades had filled with awe.
Next day the papers contained an account of the excitement occasioned in the city by the escape of a huge monkey from Thunder's Museum of Marvels, and the Missing Link demanded an increase of salary and a double allowance of beer, and got both, in view of his increased importance as the greatest draw the show had ever known.
AFTER taking to the show business, Nicholas Crips often complained of the vicissitudes of an artistic career and threatened on many occasions to resign his arduous role as the Missing Link, but despite his occasional eccentric departures from the manners and customs of Missing Links, Nickie had so far proved to be the most successful and profitable man-monkey ever associated with the Professor's show, and Thunder was determined not to lose him.
A bottle of beer, a good meal, and a season of repose, usually overcame Nickie's reluctance to continue his splendid impersonation. Besides, the easy Bohemian life was taking hold of him, and the actor's morbid love of applause had already planted itself in his breast.
Matty Cann, the bone man, was the most respectable and melancholy freak in the museum, but his melancholy was not native to him, it sprang from the cravings of appetite doomed to dissatisfaction—he had his brighter moments.
"I ken put up with always bein' like er specimei iv er Indian famine," he said, confiding in Mahdi the Missing Link, through the bars of the latter cage, "knowing the missus and the kids has plenty. You noticed 'ow fat Jane was when she brought the fam'ly t' see the show the other day? Well, I give you my word, the wife was thin enough t' take on this billet 'erself when the Perfesser engaged me."
Nickie's sentimental side was quite stirred by the affection existing between Bonypart and his small family, and the anguish of Jane and the kiddies at parting with Matty when the show was on the eve of starting on a provincial tour so wrought upon him that he shed two large tears down his Simian cheeks, and handed a shilling to Mat, the fat baby.
The show opened at Bunkers, a small Gippsland town. The Museum of Marvels was conveyed in a two-horse caravan, and was displayed in a small circus tent, Mahdi's cage, as usual, being thrown into shadow by an ingenious device of the Professor's.
Professor Thunder was more at his ease in the bush towns. There patrons are neither so inquisitive nor so exacting as in the metropolis. The Museum of Marvels was opened to the public of Bunkers in the afternoon, admission sixpence, children half-price, special concessions to schools and other educational institutions.
Nickie found his sphere of usefulness enlarged in the country, since he expected to assist in pitching the tent and striking it again, and had to do his share of the camp work, cooking, &c. The quick changes prevented outsiders from noticing that the absence of Nicholas Crips was always coincident—with the appearance of Mahdi, the Missing Link; but, still, nice judgment and caution had to be observed in effecting the transformation.
Business at Bunkers was only moderate—for the first afternoon and evening, but Professor Thunder had so worked his "splendid living realisation of the Darwinian theory, the descent of man," as to induce the proprietress of a local young ladies' school to bring her pupils on the second afternoon.
There were twenty-five young ladies in all, daughters of the superior families of Bunkers and the surrounding district. Miss Arnott, their teacher, was a tall, bony spinster, with austere glasses and sharp elbows that looked like weapons of defence.
The Professor had several manners adapted for various audiences, and possessed costumes to Suit. He met Miss Arnott and her pupils in his splendid impersonation of the studious naturalist and reverent authority on the wonders of creation. A long black coat, a somewhat dingy belltopper, and a pair of smoked spectacles went with the part. So equipped, the boss conducted the seminary through his Museum of Marvels, educating and edifying the pupils, first with the astonishing mathematical calculations of Ephraim, the educated pig, then with Madame Marve's amazing acts of mysticism and legerdemain.
The Living Skeleton was described as a unique freak of nature—"Teaching us all how wise and wonderlul are the workings of Providence," said the Professor, piously. "He is thin, ladies, but very—happy," he added.
This was Bonypart's cue to work off a long, wan smile, and he smiled accordingly. The effort so worked on the feelings of one of the younger pupils that she burst into tears, and offered the bone man her piece of cake.
Matty Cann looked eager, but the Professor smartly intervened.
"Excuse me, young lady," he said suavely, "but visitors are requested not to feed the Living Skeleton. Living Skeletons are very delicately organised, madame," he continued, addressing the teacher. "A dry biscuit has been known to throw them into violent dyspepsia and they have died of a rump steak."
Bonypart groaned audibly and recovering himself, made another effort to smile, but failed, and sighed hungrily, whereat the younger pupil broke into a dismal wail, and had to be taken out and soothed with lemonade.
The fine collection of natural curiosities, illustrating the descent of man, was reserved for the last, and Professor Thunder proudly arrayed his company before the cages containing the tiny apes, the middling-sized gibbons, the baboon, Ammonia, the gorilla, and Mahdi, the man-monkey, or Missing Link.
The young ladies were quite enthusiastic in their admiration. They fed the Missing Link with spongecake and nuts, which he took from their hands and ate with a certain genteel decorum. His manner of cracking the nuts was much appreciated. Nickie was a specialist at nut-cracking, having made a special study of the subject at the Zoo.
Some of the girls said he was a "regular dear," and threw him flowers, and frosty Miss Arnott relaxed her elbows a trifle, and admitted that this quaint creature was indeed entertaining and instructive—most instructive. She had never met a more instructive creature. And meanwhile Ammonia the gorilla shook the dividing bars, and reached fierce claws towards Mahdi, convulsed with jealousy, and inspired with a primitive yearning for nuts.
Professor Thunder spread himself in the delivery of his learned oration on the origin of the human race, beginning with Spider, and ranging up to the wondrous Missing Link. "Captured by my own hand in the jungles of Central Africa, ladies," said he, with fine dramatic elocution and the attitudes of a leading man.
"You will observe that the creature is kept in semi-darkness, that is because he is accustomed to the thick shades of his native forests. He is very docile, excepting when attacked or irritated"—(descriptive growls from the Missing Link)—"when he displays extraordinary activity in pursuit of his foes"—(display of extraordinary activity by Madhi, swinging on the bar, racing round the cage, roaring, &c.). "He is very human in his appearance, as you will observe, and is much more upright in his carriage than the gorilla, while his mild and benevolent expression in repose"—(mild and benevolent expression artfully simulated by the Missing Link)—"gives his countenance a certain manly beauty and dignity. Looking at him thus, ladies, no one will deny that he stands for the missing link in the chain leading from the small ape up through the gorilla to the noblest work of God." The Professor finished chin up, heels together, eyes lifted, and the left hand thrust in the vest, a la Napoleon—to signify the highest effort of a benign Providence.
Here Ammonia created a diversion by squealing angrily, spitting at theMissing Link, and clawing for him in a paroxysm of professional envy.
"I think, ladies," continued Professor Thunder in his best manner, "that even those who discard the Darwinian hypothesis because of their objection to acknowledging relationship with the monkeys should have no reluctance to admit some distant connection with this noble and intelligent being, so like man in bearing and intellect, and yet so closely allied to the gorilla that we cannot deny—Blazes and fury!"
The Professor's indecorous ejaculation was in spired by the mean, vicious, and unsportsmanlike conduct of Ammonia the gorilla, who had succeeded in gripping Mahdi by one leg, and was hanging on, squealing frightfully.
"Pull him off! Pull him off!" yelled the Missing Link, forgetting everything in the moment of pain and, peril.
Instantly the whole show was thrown into commotion. Miss Arnott screamed, her pupils screamed, the monkeys all rattled at their cages and jabbered excitedly; the Professor, the Living Skeleton, and Madame Marve added to the uproar.
Ammonia, having his hated rival in his power at last, was determined to glut his hate. He secured a grip with the other iron talon, dragged Nickie down, and pulling him close to the bars, and pushing his short nose between the rods, bit at him with gleaming teeth, and all the time he clawed furiously, his nails tearing through the hide of the Missing Link, and lacerating the man beneath pitilessly.
Nickie fought and yelled and swore, in good strong Australian. Miss Arnott's pupils, huddled together, staring with round, horrified eyes, and as they stared a truly horrible thing happened. The skin was torn clean from the upper part of the Missing Link, and the bare, blood-stained head and shoulders of a man emerged.
That was too much for a well-conducted ladies seminary. With a final ear-piercing scream in chorus the school turned and fled; it broke pell-mell from the tent, headed by Miss Arnott, who executed a remarkable sprint, taking her age, her dignity and her lack of training into consideration.
It was Madame Marve who rescued Nickie from the clutches of the gorilla, having subdued the brute with a discharge from a squirt charged with ammonia; but Professor Thunder was not thankful, he hadn't time, his magnificent mind was already busy on ways and means of repairing the mischief done to his Missing Link and to his reputation as an honourable showman.
Of course, the revelation resulting from Ammonia's misconduct would go round the place like wildfire. There might be a raid of indignant residents, a prosecution for fraud, and there wasn't time to run.
The raid came in due time. Ten heads of families accompanied by Quinn, the local constable, bore down upon the Museum of Marvels within an hour. Professor Thunder met them at the entrance, with his studious manner and his solemn black hat. The raid was going to express itself forcibly; it did refer to "iniquitous frauds," "shameful imposition," "scoundrels," &c., but the Professor's big, penetrating voice, his heavy-as-lead manner, triumphed.
"Most unfortunate, gentlemen, a most lamentable disaster," he said. "My valuable Missing Link is more seriously injured than I imagined, and I may lose him, which would be a heavy blow, indeed, as the College of Naturalists of London, values the beast at four thousand and seventy pounds."
"It's a fraud—a blanky imposition!" cried a fierce little man.
"Gentlemen will you favour me by stepping into the museum, and judging for yourself," said Thunder gravely. "You will find the Missing Link in a low state, but Madame Marve has done all that surgical skill could do. The murderous attacks of the gorilla scalped the poor creature, and tore the skin from his body, but the wounds have been stitched up—there is still hope. This way, gentle men, and quietly, if you please."
The surprised and subdued deputation found Mahdi, the Missing Link, lying moaning on his straw, his wounds—artfully bloodstained—all stitched up. There were white bandages about his head and his injured arms.
"But the girls say it was a man gasped the fierce deputationist.
"A not unnatural mistake, my dear sir," said the Professor, "Strip the poor creature of its hairy hide and its resemblance to a human creature would deceive the most expert naturalist."
"Wonderful!" said the local publican.
"But all the same, me mahn," said Quinn, regretfully, "I have half a moind t' prosecute yeh fer croolty t' animals."
The trick worked, however, the situation was saved, and that night all Bunkers flocked to see the Missing Link that had been flayed in its life-and-death struggle with an infuriated gorilla.
IN the larger townships and the small towns visit by the museum of Marvels on its provincial tour, Professor Thunder, gifted manager of this "colossal amusement enterprise," as the streamers eloquently phrased it, preferred to secure a shop in the main street to pitching his tent in some out-of-the-way place, where his persuasive powers might be wasted on the desert air.
The Professor flattered himself there was not a more seductive "spruicher" in the business, and, mounted on a gin case at a shop front plentifully papered with screaming posters depicting the more popular attractions, he reckoned that he could always lure a given number of people into the show by the sheer force of his eloquence, and so make up the rent, provided there were men and women in the street willing to listen.
Professor Thunder had found a vacant shop to suit him near the end of Main-street, Wangaroo. He would have preferred a central site at the same price, or even less, but none was available. However, business was so good on the first afternoon and evening that he resolved to extend his Wangaroo season into the following week. This involved a day of idleness, an unemployed Sunday, a boon that rarely came to the partakers in Professor Thunder's godless enterprises, the day of rest usually being given over to travel and arduous preparations for a Monday matinee.
Nicholas Crips was well content with the change of dates. He certainly took a good deal of natural pride in his marked success as the most artistic and realistic representative of the missing link, and toyed in the reputation he was rapidly making for himself in the show business; but for all that, it was a great relief to throw off the hide of the celebrated man-monkey, drop the exactions of art, and be himself for a whole day.
Nickie did not find, as many celebrated actors have done, that the work of sustaining a grand role day after day, night after night, week after week, and month after month, was too exacting; he bore the strain with consummate ease; moreover, the most conscientious artist wishes to be himself once now and again, if merely for a change.
The shop in Wangaroo occupied by the Museum of Marvels was rented from a Chinese greengrocer, who carried on a business next door. The place had originally been one shop, but Kit See, with the frugality of his race, had partitioned it roughly, and with Oriental astuteness let the half for nearly as much as he paid for the whole.
Kit See was a stout, cream Confucian with an oleaginous smile, and the gentle, propitiatory man of an inferior people, cunning enough to realise that if you cannot dominate it is wisest to be docile. He had a good stock, a good business, a half-caste wife, and a noiseless, placid, slit-eyed baby about the size of a Bologna sausage.
The Missing Link discovered this much through a crack in the partition, and amused himself with his eyes glued to the slit when there were no professional demands on his time and talents.
Most things that Mahdi did irritated Ammonia, whose jealousy and hatred were intensified by Nickie's habit, when in a playful humour, of teasing the gorilla by ostentatiously devouring delicacies Ammonia particularly affected in Ammonia's sight, almost within his reach.
Nickie's interest in that hole in the wall was a course of consuming anxiety to Ammonia. While Mahdi had his eye to the wall, the gorilla would cling to the bars of his cage, pushing his blunt nose through, and gibber and spit and protest in a high-pitched, querulous growl.
"Blime, yiv got the noble Ammonia goin' this trip, Nickie," said theLiving Skeleton.
"Yes," replied Nickie, still with his eye to the crack, "that beast will have to learn decency and good conduct, Matty, my man. I aspire to teach him moral restraint."
"He'll do you a bad turn one o' them days, mark me."
"I believe not," said the Missing Link. "I've got something here that will always reduce him to reason." Nickie touched his breast. "I say, Matthew, this Chow next door is a luxurious heathen. He's got all sorts of lovely preserved fruits in beautiful juices, and cakes, and ginger floating in its own gravy, and there is a bottle of Chinese brand under the counter. Now, Matthew, I think it is a sin to encourage the inferior races to indulge in intoxicants."
"Don't," cried the Living Skeleton, a ring of anguish in his tones. "Yeh know, it's agin the rules t' talk t' me of things t' eat. It makes me fat." Poor Matty Cann groaned aloud. "Is there anythin' substantial?" he asked pitifully.
"Not just now," said Nickie, "but last night I watched the Chow and his missus dining on roast duck. You notice there's a door in this partition just at the back of my cage. Curious, is it not? Well, I found an old rusty key in the crack under the wall, and it fits the lock of that door. Remarkable that, don't you think? Now, I shan't be surprised if some of those Chow delicacies find their way in here most unaccountably."
"What's it t' me if they do?" sighed Matty. "I wouldn't dare t' eat 'em. If I did the boss would find I was puttin' on flesh, an' I'd be doin' a bunk."
"But I suppose a drop of Chinese brandy wouldn't entirely spoil your figure, my boy."
The Chinese delicacies did find their way into the cage of the Missing Link, quite a fine assortment of them, also the bottle of Celestial spirits. Ammonia witnessed the process of transference that night, and nearly went mad in his cage, springing about wildly, clinging to the bars, squealing and certainly blaspheming in his peculiar monkey gibberish, and Nicholas Crips sat in his cage, impishly eager to goad his enemy to fury, and ate luscious figs and fine preserves, while the gorilla strained at the intervening bars and shrilled his anguish.
After this there were other casual visits to the shop of Kit See, and Ammonia's curiosity concerning the mysterious place from which the Missing Link drew such delectable supplies kept him at the back of his cage for hours together, peering at the wall, scratching it, and whining impotently.
Evidently Kit See was troubled in his mind, too, for he came into the show to examine the door in the wall, and finding the cage of the Missing Link right up against it, and the formidable monster sleeping in the straw, was satisfied that the petty larcenist found access to his goods in some other way.
On the Sunday, Nickie and the Living Skeleton walked abroad, seeing the sights of Wangaroo, including a waterfall; a hanging rock, and a cemetery, the latter the favourite resort of the elite and fashion of Wangaroo on Sundays. Mat's skeleton proportions were disguised in a long overcoat, and Nickie wore a loud theatrical suit, and a conspicuous clean-shave. He thought he looked like Henry Irving. He didn't see why he shouldn't.
The company ate a late dinner in a room behind the show that evening. Amiable Madame Marve had prepared an excellent meal, in which the regulation beer and boiled leg of mutton course was relieved of monotony with vegetables and dumplings. There was soup before and pudding after, and in a burst of gratitude the Missing Link proposed the health of the Egyptian Mystic which was being drunk with enthusiasm in Chinese brandy, when suddenly a great racket arose in the yard, shouts and screams were heard from the street, and Kit See burst in upon the dinner party, his Celestial fade pale with terror, his usually benignant eyes round with apprehension.
"What' for? Wha' far?" screamed the Chinaman at Professor Thunder. "Come!Come! You come dam quick! Monkey he stealem my baby."
"Wha—at?" yelled the Professor.
"The monkey cally baby away alonga house-top si'." Kit pointed to the ceiling. He was dancing with anguish.
The Professor dashed for the caravan cage, and was back in a minute. "It's Ammonia," he cried, wild with excitement. "He's broke loose. He's got the Chinaman's baby on the roof."
Kit See ran into the street, the Professor turned to follow, but Nickie seized him.
"Hold hard," he said, "there's no hurry, no hurry in the world. Let us think this thing out."
"No hurry!" snorted the Professor, "and that infernal gorilla waltzing round up there with a live baby?" The Professor's tragic manner would have been the making of a cheap melodrama.
"Did you ever know Ammonia drop anything he'd once taken a good grip of? The youngster's safe for a while. It strike me we can make a hit out of this. How will it read in the Wangaroo 'Guardian': 'Child stolen by a gorilla. Rescue by Professor Thunder's famous Missing Link'?"
Professor Thunder stopped with a gasp. "Holy Joseph!" he said, "that's a noble thought, my boy. Can it be done?"
"You get out there and keep the crowd from overexerting itself. Leave the rest to me."
Professor Thunder dashed out by the front door. There was already a large and vociferous crowd in the road, staring up at the gorilla, gesticulating and yelling, and people were coming running from all directions. On the side of the road stood Kit See, weeping, and brandishing his arms helplessly in the face of this grand calamity. Aloft, on the top of one of the chimneys, about three feet above the roof, sat the gorilla. In one of his hind claws he held the baby's clothing, and the youngster dangled, apparently disregarded by Ammonia, who, despite the terrors of the situation, cut a most ridiculous figure, for he was composedly sucking the milk from the baby's bottle, keeping his vindictive eyes on the crowd the while.
"For God's sake keep quiet," thundered the Professor to the excited crowd. "Do not irritate him, and all will be well." He dragged to the ground a heroic Cousin Jack miner who was climbing the verandah post. "Back, man, back," he cried, "or all is lost."
The Professor strode up and down with all a heavy villain's impressiveness and orated. His eloquence was drowned by a great hullabaloo at the next corner, and with a rattle and a yell four firemen came tearing down the road with a hose-reel. Some excited individual had, rung the fire-bell. The firemen attached the hose to a plug, and came on, hydrant in hand. It required all the Professor's energies, supplemented by the frenzied protestations of Kit See, to prevent them turning a full stream of water on the gorilla.
The crowd was now a large one, gathered far out on the road, where a good view of the roof was obtainable, and when the excitement occasioned by the fire men had subsided, a fresh outburst was provoked by the appearance of another huge monkey, the great bulk of which came up slowly over the left ridge. The second monkey, which was much larger than the gorilla, sat upon the apex of the roof, jabbered at Ammonia, and the gorilla turned towards him, baring his teeth in a hideous grin of malice.
"Keep still!" yelled Professor Thunder. "Keep quiet, for the love of heaven! Mahdi, the Missing Link, will save the che—e—ild! Mahdi, the animal that approaches nearest to man, captured by me in the dark jungles of Darkest Africa. Observe."
The gorilla seemed animated with an implacable hatred for the larger monkey. The shades of night were falling, but the people in the street could divine this enmity from Ammonia's attitude and his gestures. His flat, ugly face was thrust towards the Missing Link. He grimaced horribly. With his eyes always on Mahdi, the gorilla slowly lowered the baby to the roof and let it go. The roof was shaped like an M, and the child rolled harmlessly into the gutter between the ridges. For a moment Ammonia faced the Missing Link, his venomous little eyes luminous as those of a cat, and then he ran along the ridge.
A cry broke from the crowd, but when Ammonia was within couple of feet of the Missing Link he stopped as if shot, let go his hold, and rolled down the roof, and lay in the gutter beside the child, limp and inanimate.
Mahdi clambered down the ridge, took up the baby, and, nursing it gently on one arm, came along the roof and down the sloping verandah, and lowered the son and heir of Kit See into Professor Thunder's arms amidst a storm of cheering such as had never been heard at Wangaroo.
Nickie had predicted rightly. The Wangaroo "Guardian" next morning contained a thrilling account of the rescue, and in a leading article the editor pointed out that the humanitarian action of the Missing Link was proof that it approached nearer to the standard of man than any other known animal.
The enthusiasm provoked by Mahdi's action brought a tremendous rush of business. In fact, the attention excited threatened to lead to an exposure of Professor Thunder's daring imposition. Leading men wanted to interview Mahdi; a section of the people of Wangaroo were even talking of having the Missing Link adorned with the Humane Society's medal, and another section prepared an illuminated address. Eventually the great showman left the town in something of a hurry to escape notoriety that promised to be dangerous, but he had done a record six-days' business, and was content.
"But how'd yeh beat the blanky gorilla?" asked the Living Skeleton on the morning after the rescue, as the Missing Link sat in his cage munching preserved fruits presented to him in abundance by the grateful Kit See.
"How do you think?" replied the intelligent animal. "With an ammonia squirt, of course. When he came at me I squirted a dose into him that nearly killed him. I'm never without that little weapon, and I think, Matthew really think that we shall teach the gorilla proper respect for the superior animals before we have done with him. His desire to supplant me in the scheme of evolution is contrary to science, my boy, and a defiance of natural law, and must not be countenanced for a moment."