But this the monkey had no intention of doing. Clutching the old maid's wig in its hands, it leaped away in bounds and joined its brother on the person of Donald Judson.
"Ouch, take them off. They'll bite me!" Donald was yelling.
The monkeys tore off his straw hat with its fancy ribbon and tore it to bits and flung them in the faces of the crowd. Then, suddenly, they both darted swiftly off and climbed a tree, where they sat chattering.
It was at that moment that the confused throng recollected the bear, which had not remained in the vicinity but had gone charging off across the lawn looking for water to drown the burning sensation within him. Now, however, an angry roar reminded them of him. The beast was coming back across the lawn, roaring and showing his teeth.
"Look out for the bear!"
"Get a gun, quick."
"Oh, he'll hug me," this last from the old maid, were some of the cries which the crowd sent up.
"He's mad, shoot him!" cried somebody. The Italian set up a howl of protest.
"No, no, no shoota heem. Mika da gooda da bear. No shoota heem."
"If you don't want him shot, catch him and get out of here. You'll have my hotel turned into a sanitarium for nervous wrecks the first thing you know," cried the proprietor of the place.