The Chinaman, tiring with his useless efforts, had started for the third time to slide down the pole. Before the bear could use its paws, Matt whirled the club and struck the brute a heavy blow on the head. The bear was dazed, and dropped down on all fours, blinking at Matt.
Ping dropped to the foot of the pole, rolled off to one side, bounded erect, and continued his flight down the street.
Barely had Ping got away when Matt felt himself grabbed from behind.
"I'll l'arn ye ter rough things up with me!" snarled a hoarse voice.
Then, before Matt could make a move to defend himself, he was hurled backward so fiercely that he lost his footing and fell sprawling in the dust.
The man, beside himself with rage, caught up the club, which had fallen from Matt's hand, and would have attacked the lad with it had McGlory not interfered.
While the club was still poised in the air, the cowboy hurled a stone. The missile struck the man's arm, and the uplifted hand fell as though paralyzed.
There was now another vent for the man's seething anger. With a furious oath, he pushed his left hand under his buckskin coat, and jerked a revolver from his hip pocket. One of the bystanders caught the weapon away from him.
Just at that moment a policeman showed himself, stepping briskly between the man and McGlory.
"What's the trouble here?" asked the officer. "What are you trying to do, Siwash Charley?"