He himself had noticed a change of late in the wild man. The meat, which had been thrown in to him, had formerly been taken out untouched and given to the lions; but lately there hadn’t been any meat left.
“He ain’t sick, neither,” declared Murphy, “but he’s too damn ugly to live. He tried to bite me when I changed the water in his dish; and yesterday, when Skoggy brought him a newspaper like he used to, to show him the stock report, Bobo tore it to pieces, and tried to hit Skoggy with that bar that’s loose in his cage.
Stetson consulted with Poole Brothers, and that night the three men went to the side-show tent, which was up in readiness for the Monday’s performance.
They found Bobo lying asleep in his cage. He still had on his make-up, but some way he didn’t look natural to the Poole Brothers. They didn’t go to the side-show tent very often, and it had been over two months since they had seen the wild man.
The hair on his arms and breast was thicker than it used to be, and his teeth seemed longer and yellower.
Stetson opened the door of the cage and called, “Wake up, Pat. It’s time for supper.”
The wild man opened his eyes quickly, and snarled like a dog which has been roused suddenly.
“It’s time for supper,” repeated Stetson, stepping back and clasping his cane a little tighter.
Bobo seized the little iron dish in which they brought him water, and started to hurl it at the speaker; but noticing suddenly who it was, he only growled, “Don’t want no more supper; just had mine.”
The younger Poole brother looked at a half gnawed bone lying on the bottom of the cage, and muttered something which nobody heard.