When the Professor was himself again he called his company together and descended upon Corner Stone.  The caravan remained at Corner Stone for a night and a day, and then moved on to Winyip.  Nickie the Kid, for some reason of his own, strongly opposed the trip to Winyip; possibly because he was reluctant to appear as a mere man-monkey with a demoralised head and a rudimentary tail in a township in which he had recently figured to great advantage as Crips Nicholas, the eminent Shakespearean actor.

Winyip proved to be an excellent show town and Mahdi, the Missing Link, came in for a good deal of attention, although his performance was more subdued than ordinarily, and he showed little of the actor’s natural anxiety to monopolise the limelight, but a local moral reformer wrote to the “Winyip Advertiser and Porkkakeboorabool Standard” enlaring on the shocking action of a depraved showman in keeping this poor heathen, which was “almost a human creature,” confined in a cage like a beast of the field.  The disputation that followed was kept alive by Professor Thunder.

People flocked to see the wonderful man-monkey, and on the afternoon of the second day came a tall, stern woman of about forty.  She was nearly six feet high, her nose was large, her chin small and sliding, and she wore glasses.  Across her left arm she nursed a large, shabby umbrella, and her habitual expression was that of one who has discovered a smell of drains.

This big woman was very curious.  She peered into every hole and corner, she examined Bonypart, the Living Skeleton, very closely through her glasses, looking critically at his features, and was equally curious with the monkeys.  She even inspected Professor Thunder with such minuteness, and with such an air of one who has at last detected a shameful imposition, that at length the celebrated showman exclaimed with some grandeur:  “Excuse me, ma’am, but I’m not an exhibit.”

“Oh,” gasped the female, “I beg your pardon.  My name is Martha Spink; I live at ‘The Nook.’  Do you happen to know a—­eh—­theatrical person named Nicholas—­Crips Nicholas?”

Professor Thunder had learned caution.  “I fancy I have heard the name,” he said.

“You haven’t such a person in your employ?” said the lady.

“No,” said the Professor, thoughtfully, as if mentally running over the names of numerous celebrities on his long pay-roll.  “No, I am sure there is no artist of that name in my company.”

“I’ll find him,” said Mrs. Spink, decisively, firing up, and making dangerous gestures with her umbrella.  “Mark me, I’ll find him, and when I do—­” The sweep of her bulky gamp nearly knocked Bonypart off his platform.

“Carefully, ma’am, carefully,” said the Professor, “you came near breaking a valuable exhibit then.  Living Skeletons have to be handled gingerly, madam.  I am sure the ruffian deserves all you can give him.  May I inquire what villain’s work he is guilty of?”