en played on them.

"Da monk! da monk!" howled the Italian, "da monk go a da craz'."

"He says they are mad," exclaimed an old gentleman, and hurried away.

Just as he did so, the bear discovered something was wrong. He set up a
roar of rage and broke loose from his keeper. The monkeys leaped away
from the angry beast and sought refuge. One jumped on the head of an
elderly damsel who was very much excited. The other made a dive for a
fashionably dressed youth who was none other than Donald Judson.

"Help!" screamed the old maid. "Help! Will no one help me?"

"I will, madam," volunteered an old gentleman, coming forward. He seized
the monkey and tugged at its hind legs, but it only clung the tighter to
the elderly damsel's hair.

Suddenly there came a piercing scream.

"Gracious, her hair's come off!" cried a woman.

"She's been scalped, poor creature!" declared another.

"Oh, you wretch, how dare you!" shrieked the monkey's victim, rushing at
the gallant old gentleman. She raised her parasol and brought it down on
his head with a resounding crack. In the meantime the Italian was
howling to "Garibaldi," as he called the monkey, to come to him.

But this the monkey had no intention of doing. Clutching the old maid's
wig in its hands, it leaped away in bounds and joined its brother on the
person of Donald Judson.

"Ouch, take them off. They'll bite me!" Donald was yelling.

The monkeys tore off his straw hat with its fancy ribbon and tore it to
bits and flung them in the faces of the crowd. Then, suddenly, they both
darted swiftly off and climbed a tree, where they sat chattering.

It was at that moment that the confused throng recollected the bear,
which had not remained in the vicinity but had gone charging off across
the lawn looking for water to drown the burning sensation within him.
Now, however, an angry roar reminded them of him. The beast was coming
back across the lawn, roaring and showing his teeth.

"Look out for the bear!"

"Get a gun, quick."

"Oh, he'll hug me," this last from the old maid, were some of the cries
which the crowd sent up.

"He's mad, shoot him!" cried somebody. The Italian set up a howl of
protest.

"No, no, no shoota heem. Mika da gooda da bear. No shoota heem."

"If you don't want him shot, catch him and get out of here. You'll have
my hotel turned into a sanitarium for nervous wrecks the first thing you
know," cried the proprietor of the place.

"Somebody playa da t