ed with guns and club and carrying
strong ropes, started out from the Bridge Inn, under the guidance of Dan
Reynolds, to capture the Missing Link, supposed to be at large in the
vicinity of McCarthy's paddock.

Nickie the Kid had awakened from his slumber under the bridge, had
partaken further of the whisky, then divesting himself of his overcoat
and replacing the mask and head-gear of Mahdi the man-monkey, had gone
forth into the bush to proclaim his kingship to the trees, and awaken the
echoes of the hills with Bacchic song. He was enjoying a song and dance
near the spot where Reynolds came upon him, when the hunters discovered
him. The sight filled them with proper awe and great discretion.

Mahdi looked a truly formidable brute, capering there in the shadow of
the gums, and his cries, stifled and made animal-like by the mask, added
to the qualms of the Party.

Nickie saw the hunters on the chock-and-log fence ready to retire
precipitately should he advance with homicidal intentions, and a vague
idea that he was performing professionally before an attentive audience
took possession of his bleary mind. He capered fantastically, and made a
foolish attempt to climb a tree. Then he jumped up and down like a monkey
on a stick, throwing out his long arms, and growling ominously.

"By cripes, he's er dangerous beggar," said Scott. "He'd tear yer limb
from limb. Better cripple him. I think."

Scott raised his gun and fired. Fortunately, Scott was nervous, and
missed, but the miss was a narrow thing, and Nickie heard the ping of the
bullet and the plunk as it buried it in the bark of the tree behind him.

Suddenly a spasm of comprehension came to Nickie, despite the whisky, and
he made a leap the gum-butt, and hastily entrenched himself. He was being
fired at, and it was neither pleasant nor healthy to be fired at, that
much he realised. He peered, monkey-like, from behind the tree, and made
an effort to grasp the situation. Scott was taking aim again.

"No no," said Watkins, "we mustn't kill him unless it's necessary. He's
very valuable. The Professor says he's worth a matter o' four thousand
pounds. Let's scatter an' surround him, come up on him from all points,
an' knock him out with the sticks. Scott and Peters holdin' their guns
ready t' pot him if he gets hold of anyone."

This plan was adopted after some argument, and the party of hunters
scattered, and commenced to close in towards Mahdi, the man-monkey, going