"Anything they can get," answered the Squire, very philosophically; "they ain't 'tall particular."
"Don't eat grass, do they?"
The Squire said he "shouldn't be s'prised if they did."
"Do they eat up men and women?"
"Wal," answered the Squire, "to tell you the plain truth, I s'pose they do."
"O Lordy!" exclaimed Mrs. Bird. "Ugh! how he looks!"
During all this time the young Puddlefordians, dirty and barefooted, who had crowded themselves into a corner in a distant part of the room, were filled with terror during the Squire's sage remarks, and fairly trembled for their safety.
Jim Buzzard took occasion to say that "he s'posed the an-er-mals would bite, but he warn't goin' to be scart, if they had 'em fasten'd in cages—but if they were goin' ter run loose, he'd be gaul-blasted if they seed him round thar when they com'd—he'd jest let 'em know he warn't a-goin' to be eat up by their lions and elephuntses—he didn't care nothin' 'bout their monkeys—he warn't 'fraid of them, nohow—but them 'are lions—what teeth they have got—O! mighty!—guess'd they wouldn't ketch him round them grinders."
The bill, among other startling announcements, declared that "the celebrated animal mentioned in Holy Writ, and now known as the Ichneumon," would be exhibited—that it was the first time any company had ever succeeded in carrying him so far into the interior, as he was very partial to salt water, and suffered very much, and grew very faint and weak, when removed any distance away from it.
The showman had been very careful not to furnish a picture of the Ichneumon, whose peculiarities had been so vividly portrayed in print, and the Puddlefordians were in great doubt about his real appearance. There were many curious speculations, and sage reflections indulged in by the more learned portion of the crowd, about his origin and history. It was very difficult, in the first place, to pronounce his name.