"I might walk home," she said, "but I could not leave the horse."
"Let me think a minute," said I. Then presently I asked, "Will this horse stand if he is hitched?"
"Oh yes," she answered; "I always hitch him when I make calls. There is a big strap under the seat which goes around his neck, and then through a ring in his bit. He has to stand—he can't get away."
"Very well, then," said I; "I will tell you what I will do. I will tie him to this tree. I think he is quieter, and if you will stand by him and talk to him—he knows you?"
"Oh yes," she answered, "and I can feed him with grass. But why do you want to tie him? What are you going to do?"
As she spoke she brought me the tie strap, and I proceeded to fasten the horse to a tree.
"Now, then," said I, "I must go and get the bear and take him away somewhere out of sight. It will never do to leave him there. Some other horse might be coming along."
"You get the bear!" she said, surprised.
"Yes," I answered; "he is my bear, and—"
She stepped back, her eyes expanded and her lower jaw dropped. "Your bear!" she cried, and with that her glance seemed to run all over me as if she were trying to find some resemblance to a man who exhibited a bear.