His skin was dark brown and rough with warts.

His hair, which was really a wig, hung in tangled snarls over his eyes.

He gnashed his teeth, clenched his fists, and every few moments he uttered a terrific yell at which timid patrons of the show promptly retired to the far side of the tent.
When Willis and I approached the cage, a smile suddenly broke across the Wild Man's face, and he nodded to us.

"You were the fellows with the hogs, weren't you ?" he said in very good English.

I can hardly describe what a shock that gave us.
"Why, why--aren't you from the wilds of Borneo ?" Willis asked him in low tones.
"Thunder, no!" the Wild Man replied confidentially.