Big Bob came to the steps, cleared them in a spring and ran past Andy. The latter dodged outside in a flash. He banged the door shut, shot its bolt, sank to the steps and swept his hand over his dripping brow.
"Whew!" panted Andy. "But I've made it."
Andy felt that he had done a pretty clever thing. He had gotten the fugitive safely caged behind a stout locked door. The cellar had several windows, but they were high up, and too small for Big Bob to ever squeeze through.
"I don't believe there is anybody at home," said Andy, getting up to investigate. "I'm going to find out. Gracious! I have—there is."
Andy was terribly startled, almost appalled. At just that moment a frightful yell rang out. It proceeded from the cellar into which he had locked the bear.
A sharp crash followed. Andy, staring spellbound, saw one of the side windows of the cellar dashed out.
Through the aperture, immediately following, there clambered a man.
He was hatless, a big red streak crossed his cheek, his coat was in ribbons down the back.
White as a sheet, chattering and trembling, he scrambled to his feet, gave one affrighted glance back of him, and shot for the road like a meteor.
Bang! bang! bang!