Matt understood his partner’s cry, and he lost no time in acting upon it. He caught up the pistol, and at once aimed it at the bear’s head.
Whether or not the beast understood that his life was in danger would be hard to say, but no sooner had the weapon been pointed at him than he arose on his hind legs and emitted a growl that was fairly blood-curdling to the involuntary listeners.
Matt did not claim to be a crack shot, having had but slight experience in pistol practice, and, even in that moment of peril, he hesitated to shoot, fearful of missing the bear and striking some one on the sidewalk outside.
“Clear the way out there!” he cried. “Clear the way, or you may get shot!”
His words had the effect of scattering the few venturesome persons who had collected to see what the bear might do. In the meantime those in the store ran out of the open doors as quickly as they could. Andy alone remained with his partner, arming himself with the longest carving-knife the stock afforded.
Once on his hind legs the brown bear hesitated in his movements. He was separated from Matt by 110 five feet of space between the show window and the raised platform upon which the boy stood. He did not seem to wish to leap the span, nor did he appear inclined to step down to the floor and then up upon the platform.
“Why don’t you let him have it?” yelled Andy, as he saw Matt raise the pistol and then lower it again.
“I don’t believe he’s so mad after all,” returned the boy. “I’m not going to shoot until I have to. Say!” he went on suddenly, “give him a tune on one of the accordions.”
“What’s that?” gasped Andy in astonishment.
“Play him a tune. He may be a trained bear, and if so, the music may soothe him.”