The Missing Link, Edward Dyson [new reading .TXT] 📗

Tell yeh, I'm ez sober ez a turtle, an' I seen bin with me own naked eyes, not three yards off, jumpin' round on th' road, howlin' somthin' awful an' shakin' a bottle in the air."

Peters thought it might be a bunyip. He had heard of a bunyip in Pig Creek.

Then Watkins had an inspiration "By gum," he cried, "I know what!" He turned eagerly to Reynolds. "'Bout my height was it?" he said, "with reddish hair all ever him, an' long arms reachin' to his feet almost?"

Reynolds nodded, "Yes, yes," he said, "it's Perfessor Thunder's Missin' Link from the show up back o' the school. I was in there--I seen him. He's a terrible-lookin' big monkey, next to a man. The show's closed, an' the Perfessor's' bin huntin' all over th' place after some-thin'. That's what--it's his Missini' Link fer a quid."

Reynolds gave further explanations, there was more excited talk, and then Watkins suggested an expedition to capture the monster.

"You can bet the showman 'll be glad to pay a bit t' have him back. He mus' be scared about losin' him, else he wouldn't have kep' it dark. It'll be a lark, an' it means drinks round at least."

So it came about that a party, armed with guns and club and carrying strong ropes, started out from the Bridge Inn, under the guidance of Dan Reynolds, to capture the Missing Link, supposed to be at large in the vicinity of McCarthy's paddock.

Nickie the Kid had awakened from his slumber under the bridge, had partaken further of the whisky, then divesting himself of his overcoat and replacing the mask and head-gear of Mahdi the man-monkey, had gone forth into the bush to proclaim his kingship to the trees, and awaken the echoes of the hills with Bacchic song. He was enjoying a song and dance near the spot where Reynolds came upon him, when the hunters discovered him. The sight filled them with proper awe and great discretion.

Mahdi looked a truly formidable brute, capering there in the shadow of the gums, and his cries, stifled and made animal-like by the mask, added to the qualms of the Party.

Nickie saw the hunters on the chock-and-log fence ready to retire precipitately should he advance with homicidal intentions, and a vague idea that he was performing professionally before an attentive audience took possession of his bleary mind. He capered fantastically, and made a foolish attempt to climb a tree. Then he jumped up and down like a monkey on a stick, throwing out his long arms, and growling ominously.

"By cripes, he's er dangerous beggar," said Scott. "He'd tear yer limb from limb. Better cripple him. I think."

Scott raised his gun and fired. Fortunately, Scott was nervous, and missed, but the miss was a narrow thing, and Nickie heard the ping of the bullet and the plunk as it buried it in the bark of the tree behind him.

Suddenly a spasm of comprehension came to Nickie, despite the whisky, and he made a leap the gum-butt, and hastily entrenched himself. He was being fired at, and it was neither pleasant nor healthy to be fired at, that much he realised. He peered, monkey-like, from behind the tree, and made an effort to grasp the situation. Scott was taking aim again.

"No no," said Watkins, "we mustn't kill him unless it's necessary. He's very valuable. The Professor says he's worth a matter o' four thousand pounds. Let's scatter an' surround him, come up on him from all points, an' knock him out with the sticks. Scott and Peters holdin' their guns ready t' pot him if he gets hold of anyone."

This plan was adopted after some argument, and the party of hunters scattered, and commenced to close in towards Mahdi, the man-monkey, going very warily. Nickie had forgotten everything by this, however, and sitting with his back to the tree was drowsing, and faintly asserting that he was a king, the most mighty and dazzling' of all monarchs known to man, when the valiant hunters fell upon him.

The rush came suddenly, and in a twinkling half-a-dozen clubs were battering at Mahdi's unhappy head and thumping on his unfortunate ribs. Every man wanted to get a lick at the monster, and every man got it. Luckily, Nickie's skull was thick, and the Mahdi head-dress offered it some protection, otherwise there would have been an instantaneous and fatal termination to the artistic career of Nicholas Crips.

As it was, Nickie's senses were battered out of him, and within a few minutes, he was so bound round with rope that he looked like a huge Cocoon. Two saplings were cut, and suspended between these, and borne on the shoulders of eight men, the Missing Link was carried back through the township of 'Tween Bridges. The hunters shouted jubilantly, fired their guns, and yelled triumphant songs as they went, and the whole of the inhabitants turned out and made a triumphal march of it, pressing forward to see the monstrous ape dangling between the saplings.

So Mahdi, the Missing Link, was brought home to the Museum of Marvels. When Nickie was dumped on the floor of the tent, Madame Marve screamed believing he was dead.

"We shot him first," Watkins explained, "an' then we got at him with our sticks."

"Great heavens!" gasped the Professor, thought of manslaughter flashing upon him. "You might have murdered him."

"He might 'ave murdered us," replied the veracious Watkins, "Why, his struggles was somethin' awful, an' he roared like a lion an' bit an' tore. It took ten of us t' down him, an' then he bit through Orton's leg, all' knocked Billy Tett sick and 'epless. I reckon it's worth a flyer, mister."

"But if he's killed--if he's killed!" cried the tremulous Professor.

Thunder and Madame Marve carried Nickie into he Mystic's tent; the cut away the ropes that were choking him, and discovered that although gory and bruised, he still lived and breathed, and then the Professor, always quick to seize, an opportunity, stood the hunters a whole barrel of beer, and till well on to daylight 'Tween Bridges was agitated by drink and reiterations of the sensational story of the capture of the man-eating Missing Link.

At sunrise, Bonypart returned to the show, contrite and trembling for his billet, and by this time Nickie the Kid, his bruises painted with iodine, and his battered head liberally patched with court plaster, was sleeping off the effects of his overdose of whisky.

The truants had to be on duty early that day, for the story of the escape of the man-monkey and, his capture by the heroes of 'Tween Bridges brought people from all over the district to inspect the marvel, but Madhi remained on his straw in the dark recesses of his cage, stiff, sore and filled with bitterness, while Professor Thunder explained to his awed patrons the animal's amazingly human viciousness, his love for drink, and his utterly depraved nature.

"D'yeh think I'm fallin' into fat. Nickie?" whispered the Living Skeleton, from his pedestal that evening. "I ate an awful lot o' cheese."

The Missing Link shook his head and groaned. "Next time I get tight I won't do it in character," he said, "my realisation of the part is too convincing."


CHAPTER XIX.

THE LINK'S LAST APPEARANCE.

IT is not forgotten that Mr. Nicholas Crips was a man of amatory instincts; he had a very warm if not particularly sincere regard for the sex, and in his brighter moments, when a relapse from his natural dilatoriness induced him to have a clean-shave, a perfunctory combing, and a general trimming-up, ladies of a certain class approaching the middle-ages found him not wholly forbidding.

Nickie's close application to an artistic career as the leading feature of Professor Thunder's Museum of Marvels had lifted him out of what had become an habitual impecuniosity, and in his brief unprofessional moments he wore a whole suit and boots that did not openly advertise his sockless condition.

In addition, Nickie was leading a fairly fat and easy life; he had put on condition; he was quite at his best; and a flirtatious matron might have found him a fairly presentable person. Madame Marve, the Egyptian Mystic, was a good wife to Professor Thunder, and a good mother to Letitia, according to the lights of show people at the conventions of the game, but she was still young enough to appreciate genuine admiration, and had sufficient of the vanity of the profession to roll a lively, dark eye for effect now and again.

Naturally, the lively, dark eye rolled in Nickie's direction once in a way, and Nickie responded with the beams of a tender, grey orb. He had a way of languishing a little when only Madame Marve was near, and he breathed sighs of simple eloquence.

Mr. Nicholas Crips had the primitive instincts of the pure individualist; fine notions of honour and delicate concepts of propriety had no influence on his modes of conduct.

It may be inferred in these circumstances that Mr. Crips had no compunction, about coveting his neighbour's wife.

Madame Marve had a light heart and a plump waist, She did not take Nickie's advances very seriously, but she found a certain piquancy in the situation, and was not above a reciprocal sigh or a responsive hand pressure.

This unlooked-for development in the internal economy of the Museum of Marvels might have provided Professor Thunder's patrons some amazing novelties had they been permitted peeps behind the scenes. For instance, there were occasions when the public was deaf to Professor Thunder's appeals, and resolutely passed by on the other side. On such occasions the Egyptian Mystic might have been discovered in the small, back tent, with white, well-shaped arms bare to the shoulder, busily engaged fabricating an Irish stew for the evening meal. The Museum was very partial to Irish stew, even the Living Skeleton liked the smell of it. Ten to one the Missing Link would be found hovering about Madame at such a time, garbed in his simian costume, but with the mask-like make-up turned back, exposing Nickie's florid countenance and rakish grin. Possibly at such moments Nickie would presume to squeeze Madame's waist. He might even venture to steal a kiss. If so, Madame's protest might be forcible, but it would not be vindictive.

Madame was not disposed to quarrel with Nickie; he was a profitable adjunct; the Museum had never possessed so versatile a missing link, and, as for a little philandering--pooh, it was all in a lifetime.

The tents were pitched at Catcat. The situation was similar to that described above, but Professor Thunder had the bad taste to intrude when Nickie was in the act of forcibly extracting a kiss in revenge. Madame Marve having playfully covered him with flour.

Professor Thunder was a jealous man, and an inflammatory one. He uttered a roar that would not have discredited the Missing Link in its native jungle in the wilds of Darkest Africa.

"You infernal blackguard!" he yelled.

"Now, Jim," cried Madame Marve in sudden alarm, standing between the men with her paste pin.

"Out of my way, woman!" cried the Professor, tossing her aside.

Professor Thunder fell upon Nicholas Crips, and smote him hip and thigh. He was not content to smite--he kicked. He kicked hard--and often. His fury increased with the measures he took to wreak it.

"Jim! Jim!" pleaded Madame Marve, "you'll ruin the skin."

The Missing Link's skin was an expensive item, but the Professor forgot his cupidity in vindicating himself as an outraged husband. He continued to kick, and then, taking