All these comments escaped the bear’s brother, but Annibale caught a suspicion that something was wrong. He hastily gathered in the second shower of pennies, and made a sign to his friends to stop the entertainment. They made their way as quickly as they could down to the water-front, and thence to the Battery Park, where there was plenty of room for another exhibition. The newsboys and bootblacks followed them for a couple of blocks, but seeing that they had no intention of stopping, gradually dropped behind and returned to their accustomed haunts. Alf and Truls heaved a sigh of relief when the last of their importunate followers had disappeared; and it was with a lighter heart that they took their station under the trees of the park and commenced the same programme which had been so successful in Wall Street.
Their audience was here even larger than it had been at their first performance, but it was not nearly so profitable; for the foreign emigrants and corner-loafers who abound in this locality had probably no money to spare, or they preferred to have their entertainment gratis. Hardly half a dozen pennies dropped into Annibale’s hat, in spite of his repeated invitations to contribute. It was obvious that they had hit upon a bad locality, where art was not properly appreciated.
As Karen’s knuckles were by this time quite numb, it was agreed that Annibale should take his turn at the hand-organ and give Alf a chance to distinguish himself at the tambourine. They had just completed this arrangement, and were strolling rather aimlessly past Castle Garden toward the Coney Island Pier, when they saw a dense crowd gathered at the entrance of the great immigration depot. Curiosity prompted them to discover the cause of the demonstration, and as everyone fell aside to make room for the bear, they had no difficulty in reaching the open space in the centre of the throng.
What was their horror when they suddenly found themselves confronted with a real bear—a huge black beast which was dancing slowly upon his hind-legs, and every now and then, with an angry yawn, showing an array of terrible teeth! They wished themselves well out of sight again, and strove with all their might to avoid attracting attention. But instead of that, they found themselves pushed right into the middle of the ring. And the moment the huge bear spied a comrade, down he dropped on all-fours and insisted upon making his acquaintance. With a wild scream which was anything but bearlike, Truls rose up and rushed toward his brother Alf, flinging his paws about his neck. The keeper of the big bear gave him a cut with his whip, but he still strained at his chain and gave forth angry growls. The people fled in all directions, and Alf grabbed his disguised brother in his arms and ran as fast as he could carry him. The others followed; but before they had overtaken him he was stopped by a policeman, who inquired whether he had a license. The boy stared in abject terror at the officer of the law.
“Pl-please, sir,” he stammered, imploringly, in his native tongue, “don’t hurt my brother! He isn’t a bear at all, if you please, sir; and—and—I am a harmless lad who—who—arrived from Norway the other day, and—and—never did mortal thing any harm as long as I lived, sir!”
“Don’t jabber yer Dutch at me, ye young scalawag!” the policeman replied, seizing the boy by the arm and shaking him. “Ef it is an honest loivelihood ye’re afther, why don’t ye drap that poor dumb cr’atur’ and foind some dacent imployment, begorra?”
Alf was altogether too frightened to make any answer to this suggestion, of which, moreover, he understood not a word. He only gazed with his large blue eyes at the policeman, and moved his lips nervously, without being able to utter a sound.
“Pl—please, sir,” he faltered, after several vain attempts to speak, “please let me go.” And Truls, completely forgetting his disguise, raised two hairy paws imploringly toward the officer and begged tearfully.
“Please, sir, do let my brother go!”
The policeman’s face underwent a sudden and startling change. His eyes nearly popped out of his head, his jaw dropped down on his chest, and the veins on his forehead swelled. “I’ll be blowed,” he cried in breathless amazement, “ef the dumb cratur’ ain’t a-talkin’ Dutch!”