CHAPTER XVI.

The kidnappers.

Loo was a small triangular township, subsisting on agriculture, road traffic, and the patronage of thirsty shearers and station hands from runs within a half-day’s ride of Sawyer’s “Emu Hotel,” which was the incisive point of the triangle.

Thunder’s tent was pitched on a small clearing facing the “Emu Hotel.” and Professor Thunder, clad somewhat after the manner of the bushranger in lurid Australian melodrama, in high boots, cord trousers, a red shirt, and an immense cabbage-tree hat, stood on a borrowed rum keg at the door of his show, and earnestly besought Sawyer’s customers to visit his unrivalled show and complete their education.

“Roll up, gents, roll up, roll up, roll up!” cried the Professor, in a voice keyed to stir the whole town ship.  “Bring your families to learn how man sprang from the ape, and when the ape’s got claws like my gorilla’s he shows his good sense in springing.  Walk in, walk in, walk in, all together, one after the other, and witness the most miraculous performance of Madame Marve, the Egyptian Mystic, converse with the educated pig, and behold for the first time the amazing Missing Link, the wonder of the universe, the only true authentic Missing Link now in captivity, certified correct in every particular by the great Darwin himself, and approved by all the crowned heads of Europe.”

It was Saturday noon, and the township of Loo was rapidly filling with convivial shearers.  The sheds were cutting out at Dim Distance, Devil’s Bend, and the Emu, and the men were full of money, and eager for beer and diversion.

When a score or so had collected inside, the Professor came down from his keg, and assumed the office of lecturer, explaining the quaint physical peculiarities of Matty Cann, and the intellectual eminence of the educated pig, and then passing to his trump card—­the Missing Link.

“Here we have, gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “a living exemplification of the truth of the teachings o the great Darwin.  Behold the descent of man in all its stages, from the smallest ape that capers on the rocky declivities of the Himalaya Mountains, to the noble Missing Link himself, having the splendid proportions of the human man, and almost his god like intellect.”

One party of four young shearers from Devil’s Bend exhibited great interest in Mahdi.

“D’yeh mean t’ say that animal’s worth four thousan’ quid?” asked one of these.

“Four thousand seven hundred pounds, fifteen shillings, is the exact sum what was offered me by the Anthropological Society of Berlin,” said the Professor, “but I wouldn’t part with him for ten thousand.”

The shearers marvelled together, and watched Mahdi’s movements with deep attention, and Nickie, acting up to instructions, glowered in the shade.  When a visitor wanted to look into details, the Missing Link displayed quite human astuteness in retreating into cover in the gloom.