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Updated: June 9, 2025
"I WILL hear the tattooed wild boy talk some more! It's lovely I WILL hear him talk! I WILL! I WILL! I want to listen to Verman I WANT to I WANT to " Wailing, she was borne away of her sex not the first to be fascinated by obscurity, nor the last to champion its eloquence.
Last on the programme, gen-til-mun and lay-deeze, we have Verman, the savage tattooed wild boy, that can't speak only his native foreign languages. Talk some, Verman." Verman obliged and made an instantaneous hit. He was encored rapturously, again and again; and, thrilling with the unique pleasure of being appreciated and misunderstood at the same time, would have talked all day but too gladly.
On the other hand, Herman subscribed to it with reluctance, expressing a decided opinion that if he and Verman were questioned upon the matter at home and adopted the line of conduct required by the new rule, it would be well for them to depart not only from the room in which the questioning took place but from the house, and hurriedly at that. "An' STAY away!" he concluded.
Verman complied, and again pointing to his brother's legs, requested to be enlightened. "Sin' I tole you once they down bottom 'at cistern," Herman shouted, much exasperated. "You wan' know how come so, you ast Sam Williams. He say thishere cat tuck an' th'owed 'em down there!" Sam, who was busy rocking the cage, remained cheerfully absorbed in that occupation.
"You talk about being a show all by yourself; what could you try to do? Show us sumpthing you can do." "I didn't say I was going to DO anything," returned the badgered one, still evading. "Well, then, how'd you BE a show?" Penrod demanded. "WE got a show here, even if Herman didn't point or Verman didn't talk. Their father stabbed a man with a pitchfork, I guess, didn't he?" "How do I know?"
I guess it'd count if I hit you on the shoe, wouldn't it? Well, a hat's just the same as shoes. Honest, that's the rule, Verman, and you're a pris'ner." Now, in the arguing part of the game, Verman's impediment cooperated with a native amiability to render him far less effective than in the actual combat. He chuckled, and ceded the point.
And toward the conclusion of his slumbers, he had this singular adventure: a lady set her foot down within less than half an inch of his nose and neither of them knew it. Verman slept on, without being wakened by either the closing or the opening of the door. What did rouse him was something ample and soft falling upon him Margaret's cape, which slid from the hook after she had gone.
Marching up and down before the cottage across the alley, Verman plainly considered himself to be an army. Hanging from his shoulders by a string was an old tin wash-basin, whereon he beat cheerily with two dry bones, once the chief support of a chicken. Thus he assuaged his ennui. "Verman, come on in here," Penrod called. "I got sumpthing for you to do you'll like awful well."
For the first time in their lives they moved in the rich glamour of sensationalism. Herman was prodigal of gesture with his right hand; and Verman, chuckling with delight, talked fluently, though somewhat consciously. They cheerfully agreed to keep the raccoon already beginning to be mentioned as "our 'coon" by Penrod in Mr.
Enveloped in its folds, Verman sat up, corkscrewing his knuckles into the corners of his eyes. Slowly he became aware of two important vacuums one in time and one in his stomach. Hours had vanished strangely into nowhere; the game of bonded prisoner was something cloudy and remote of the long, long ago, and, although Verman knew where he was, he had partially forgotten how he came there.
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