Then Bobo growled. Bobo was proud of that growl. It had taken him weeks to acquire it. Beginning with a kind of guttural rumbling in his throat, he worked himself up gradually, and ended with a ferocious howl.
“The wild man is hungry, you see,” said Stetson; and taking a piece of raw meat from under the wagon, he held it up to view.
“The wild man ran to the bars of the cage and shook them furiously.” (See page 35.)
Bobo immediately sprang at the bars of his cage, and rattled them loudly, chattering fiercely meanwhile.
The crowd fell back, leaving a clear space in front of the cage; and the wild man, reaching a hairy arm out between the iron bars, seized the meat, and crawling to a corner, buried his teeth in the bloody shank.
“This concludes the entertainment,” shouted Stetson, and the crowd reluctantly began to file out of the tent.
Two months later, while Poole Brothers’ amalgamated shows were exhibiting in Vermont, Murphy, one of the side-show attendants, came to Stetson, and informed him mysteriously that Bobo was acting queer.
“He don’t get out of his cage after the show’s over in the afternoon like he used to, but stays there till the evening performance.”
“Nothing queer about that as I can see,” answered Stetson carelessly. “He’s been putting more life than usual into the part lately, and it probably tires him. What’s the difference whether he rests in his cage or goes over to the car? You’re probably kicking because you have to bring his supper to him.”