Nickie sat up, growled in his best style, and scratched with the dull laziness of a tired ape.
"'Ere, 'ere," cried the man, "'ere, 'ere, Bravo! Not too rotten That's first rate monkey business, take it from Ivo Hobbs. Let me interdoose myself. Mr. Mahdi. Ivo Hobbs, late o' Kitts and Killjammer's Whole World Show."
Nickie walked along the back wall of his cage two or three times with simian ungainliness, turning with a peculiar spring that Mr. Crips had learned from the Orang.
"Good enough!" said. Ivo Hobbs. "Good enough. There's no ticks on you, you're a stoodent, I can see. How's the game mate?"
It was necessary to convince this beery intruder of his grievous error in taking Professor Thunder' celebrated Missing Link, Mahdi, from the tangled jungles of Darkest Africa, for a cheap fake. Nickie sprang to the perch with great agility, caught it with one hand, slowly drew up a leg, hooked a hind claw to the bar and hung so, blinking unconcernedly.
"What oh!" said the audience, with enthusiasm.
"That's a bit of all right. You're a husker. But there ain't no reason for this reticence with a brother professional. I was the bearded woman with Kitts and Kiljammer's show for over two years, I was Shake, mate." The visitor thrust a hand through the bars.
Nickie dropped from his swing, landing lightly on four paws, ambled daintily across the cage, ran up the bars, and seated himself on a limb propped in a corner.
The audience applauded generously.
"Bli' me," he cried, "you're a fool t' waste them talents on a side show like this. You orter hitch on at one o' the great circuses."