"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."