At that moment, a hullaballoo came up from the street. The room occupied by the boys was at the front of the building, and the two windows were open.
"Sufferin' cats," cried McGlory, starting for one of the windows, "I wonder if that's a fire? Ever since we had that close call at the burnin' boathouse on Fourth Lake, I'm scared of a fire."
But it wasn't a fire. A Chinese boy was rushing down the street like a whirlwind, his silk blouse and baggy trousers fluttering and snapping in the wind of his flight, and his pigtail standing straight out behind him.
Back of the Chinaman came a bear. The bear was muzzled, and there was a collar about its neck and some six or eight feet of chain rattling around its legs. The bear was going after the Chinaman like a brown streak, and a whopping crowd of onlookers was gathering on the sidewalks.
"Great jump sparks!" cried Matt, astounded; "Why, it's Ping!"
"Ping it is, pard, and no mistake!" gasped McGlory; "and we left Ping in Madison, workin' for Lorry. How did he get here? And how in Sam Hill did that bear pick up his trail?"
But Matt was already out of the room, and halfway down the stairs on a run for the street.
[CHAPTER V.]
PING AND THE BEAR.