“My dear Professor, have a bit of enterprise,” replied the Missing Link, “we are not drawing well!  Bullfrog wants waking up.  Run out the caravan, and take a turn through the township, with the cornet playing and me riding ahead on the black mare, and we are bound to make an impression.  Get through at a good bat, and they won’t have time to look twice at the man-monkey before it’s all over.  Just a dash through and back to the tent, and we can be under cover again before they’re fairly out of their houses.  I tell you, sir, it will make Bull frog wild with curiosity.”

Madame Marve, the Egyptian Mystic, favoured the scheme, and Professor Thunder agreed.  The caravan was prepared, and Madame Marve, wearing a much bespangled, but rather seedy, pantomime, fairy costume, stood by the box seat, playing a lively air on the cornet; Professor Thunder, with a flowing mane of hair and a Buffalo Bill rig-out, drove the horses.  From the sides of the big vehicle hung highly-coloured posters, while above flared the name of the show in long, red letters.

The black mare Nickie rode was one of the three hired to drag the Museum into Bullfrog.  She was a rather spirited little beast, and had shown great perturbation when Mr. Crips, in his full make-up as Mahdi, the Missing Link, approached to mount.  Now she cantered ahead at a smart pace, still nervous about the monstrous thing upon her back.  The caravan came rattling after, Professor Thunder keeping up a volley of whip cracks, and Madame tooting gaily.

It was early in the day, and the township had lain drowsing in its dust under the shimmer of a great yellow sun till this astonishing invasion struck it, and startled it from its accustomed lethargy.  There was a rush to windows and doors, men fell over each other struggling from Harvey’s bar, a sudden mutiny arose in the little wooden school, and children swarmed at the windows, and poured pell-mell from the doors.  The people of Bullfrog caught only a fleeting glimpse of a huge monkey crouched man-wise on a gaily caparisoned pony, of Madame Marve in her fairy costume, and the gaudy caravan, as the small procession dashed past.

But Constable Cobb, who was drowsing against the shoemaker’s doorpost, saw the amazing thing on the horse approaching as in a dream, and professional zeal uppermost in his mind, he dashed into the toad, and grabbed at the rein.  The mare, already much distressed, lost her head entirely at this rude intervention of the law, and rearing high on her hind legs as she beat the air with her hoofs, plunged wildly, and then bolted, leaving Constable Cobb on the broad of his back, half stifled in the dust, with the imprint of a horseshoe on his elegant helmet.

The mare did the circuit of Bullfrog at a furious pace, with the Missing Link hanging about her neck, and slinging to her ribs with insistent heels.  Never had Bullfrog experienced such a shaking up.  People came running in all directions, eager to see this marvellous thing.  The township was almost obscured in its own dust, and through the clouds of her own creating came the little mare, scattering the horrified inhabitants, who caught only fleeting glimpses of the huge, hairy creature sprawling in the saddle.