“Speak to him, and tell him to come down quickly. I see the whole trick; no bear would walk as that creature does.”
No sooner did Larry hear my voice than he sprang off the stage, before Chacot or his sons could stop him, and I rushed forward to meet him, followed by Monsieur Pontet.
“Have any of you a knife?” asked the worthy magistrate. “Hand it to me at once.”
A knife was given him, and he began forthwith to cut away at the bear-skin, Larry standing patiently while the operation was going forward.
He soon got the head off, when Larry’s honest countenance was displayed beneath it.
Loud shouts of laughter burst from the people, mingled with no small amount of abuse hurled at Chacot for the trick he had played them.
As the mayor proceeded, a quantity of hay tumbled out, which had served to stuff out poor Larry to the required proportions.
“Faith, Mr Terence dear, you’d better not take it off altogether before so many decent people; for, to say the truth, I’ve got nothing under it but my bare skin,” said Larry to me in a subdued voice.
Such, indeed, I perceived to be the case, as did the mayor.
“Bring the man’s clothes at once, and let him have a room in which he may dress himself properly,” he exclaimed to Chacot, who had, by the mayor’s orders, remained on the stage, and had been watching our proceedings.