With a deep, menacing roar the bear increased his speed. He headed defiantly for the pronged barrier which Andy extended. Big Bob ran squarely upon the pitchfork. Its prongs grazed the animal's breast.
Andy experienced a shock. He was forced back, thrown flat, and the next minute picked himself up from the shallow ditch at the side of the road into which he had fallen.
"Well," commented Andy, staring down the road, "he's a good one!"
Big Bob had never stopped. He was putting ahead for dear life. Andy watched him near the farm house.
The animal turned in at a road gateway. He ran rapidly up to an open window at the side of the house.
Its sill held something, Andy could not precisely make out what at the distance he was from the spot. He fancied, however, that it was dishes holding pies or some other food, put out to cool.
Big Bob arose erect on his hind legs, his fore feet rested on the window sill. His great muzzle dipped into whatever it held.
At that moment from inside the farmhouse there rang out the most curdling yell Andy Wildwood had ever heard.