Again the slippery surface proved more than Ping could manage, and down he came with a rush. The bear got the other sandal before Ping could check his sliding, and the crowd went wild with delight.
The man in the buckskin coat had come close to the pole, but he made no move to interfere with proceedings.
Matt was not able to extract much fun from the situation. The bear's claws were sharp, and if they once came in contact with the Chinaman's body, the consequences might prove serious.
Quickly as he could, Matt forced himself through the edge of the crowd.
"Is that your bear?" he demanded of the man in the buckskin coat.
"Waal," drawled the man, with a scowl, "I reckon it ain't no one else's b'ar."
"Why don't you chase him away, then?" asked Matt indignantly. "Do you want him to kill the Chinaman?"
"It won't be much loss if the critter takes a chunk out o' him. He's only a Chink, anyways, an' he desarves all he'll git."
This line of reasoning did not appeal to Matt. The man was leaning on a heavy club. That club was the only weapon handy, and Matt made a grab at it and pulled it out of the man's hands. With his support thus suddenly removed, the man fell flat in the street, striking his head against the stone curb at the edge of the walk.
No serious damage was done, and the man got up, swearing luridly. Matt gave no further attention to him, but turned toward the bear and Ping.