"Yes," I replied; "I left him there while I went to ask my way. It was a dreadful thing to do, but I must leave him there no longer. I will tell you all about it when I come back."
I had decided upon a plan of action. I ran down the road to the bear, took down some bars of the fence, and then, untying him, I led him over a field to a patch of woodland. Orso shuffled along humbly as if it did not make any difference to him where he went, and when I reached the woods I entered it by an old cart-road, and soon struck off to one side among some heavy underbrush. Finding a spot where it would be impossible for the beast to be seen from the road, I fastened him securely to a tree. He looked after me regretfully, and I think I heard him whine, but I am not sure of that. I hurried back to the road, replaced the bars, and very soon had joined the young lady.
"Well," said she, "never in this world would I have thought that was your bear! But what is to be done now? This horse gave a jump as soon as he heard you running this way."
"Now," said I, "I will drive you to your house, or, if you are afraid, you can walk, and I will take him home for you if you will give me the directions."
"Oh, I am not a bit afraid," she said. "I am sure you can manage him—you seem to be able to manage animals. But will not this be a great inconvenience to you? Are you going this way? And won't you have to come back after your bear? I can't believe that you are really leading a bear about."
I laughed as I unfastened the horse. "It will not take me long to come back," I said. "Now, I will get in first, and, when I have him properly in hand, you can mount on the other side."
The young lady appeared to have entirely recovered from the effects of her fright, and was by my side in a moment. The horse danced a little as we started and tried to look behind him, but he soon felt that he was under control, and trotted off finely.
I now thought that I ought to tell her who I was, for I did not want to be taken for a travelling showman, although I really did not suppose that she would make such a mistake.
"So you are the school-master at Walford!" said she. "I have heard about you. Little Billy Marshall is one of your scholars."
I admitted that he was, and that I was afraid he did not do me very much credit.