Nickie reviewed the situation. He was tethered to a tree, his bonds were
stout, and his captors had not made sufficient allowance for the almost
human intelligence of Professor Thunder's star performer. All about were
scattered the utensils of a late supper, and with the aid of a stick the
Link contrived to draw a knife within reach. With this he promptly cut
the rope.

When free Nickie went quietly and deliberately to work to overhaul an
open swag. He took a coat, pair of trousers, a pair of boots, and a hat,
and with these under his arm retired to the bush to make his toilet.

An hour later three shearers, Bill, Fred, and Ben, riding at a gallop
along the high road to Loo, came upon a man with a bundle walking
cheerfully in the same direction. The horsemen pulled up.

"Hi, mate, have you seen anythin' of a strange sort of animal on this
road?" cried Bill.

"Have I?" answered the man. "My word, I have! A great, big, red, hairy
bunyip 'r somethin' charged out o' th' bush 'bout a mile back, bowled me
over an' went howlin' down th' road in a cloud o' dust."

"Which way?" gasped Bill.

The pedestrian pointed in the direction of Loo. "That's th' way he went,"
he said. "Cripes, I'd a' thought I seen a fantod on'y I bin teetotal fer
a year."

The shearers whipped up, and rode on at a gallop, and the man grinned
after them with exquisite joy. "Well, life's worth living after all."
said Nickie the Kid.

Before Sunday night it was known at Loo that the Missing Link, which had
been stolen or had escaped, was once more safely bestowed in Professor
Thunder's Museum, and when the show opened on Monday there was something
like a run on it. With the curious crowd came Bill, Ben, and Fred, Mike
having been left to keep camp. At the sight of the shearers before his
cage, the Missing Link simulated a paroxysm of ungovernable rage. He bit,
glared, roared, and reaching his mighty claws towards Bill, made
murderous sweeps in the air, as if desirous of disembowelling that
hapless young man.

"That's curious." said Professor Thunder, regarding the shearer sternly.
"My Link don't often go on like that, and when he does he has good
reason. See here, young gentlemen, what did you have to do with the
purloining of my man-monkey Saturday night?"

Bill protested fiercely. "Never put a hand on yer blanky monkey. Wouldn't
touch him with er forty-foot pole."

"Well, he as good as says you did."

Bill grinned. "You can't send a bloke