the place were too paralyzed with fear to move.

Screams of terror rent the air, and to these the brown bear added a
growl which was both deep and angry.

Andy, who stood some distance behind Matt, was the first to do any
rational talking.

"Grab the pistol, Matt!" he exclaimed. "Grab it quick!"

The weapon to which Andy referred was lying under the counter, just in
front of the boy. It had been purchased by the firm and placed there
in case some ugly person raised a dispute, or a sneak-thief tried to
run off with any article. Andy had said that the mere sight of a
pistol would often bring matters to terms when words had no effect.

Matt understood his partner's cry, and he lost no time in acting upon
it. He caught up the pistol, and at once aimed it at the bear's head.

Whether or not the beast understood that his life was in danger would
be hard to say, but no sooner had the weapon been pointed at him than
he arose on his hind legs and emitted a growl that was fairly
blood-curdling to the involuntary listeners.

Matt did not claim to be a crack shot, having had but slight
experience in pistol practice, and, even in that moment of peril, he
hesitated to shoot, fearful of missing the bear and striking some one
on the sidewalk outside.

"Clear the way out there!" he cried. "Clear the way, or you may get
shot!"

His words had the effect of scattering the few venturesome persons who
had collected to see what the bear might do. In the meantime those in
the store ran out of the open doors as quickly as they could. Andy
alone remained with his partner, arming himself with the longest
carving-knife the stock afforded.

Once on his hind legs the brown bear hesitated in his movements. He
was separated from Matt by five feet of space between the show window
and the raised platform upon which the boy stood. He did not seem to
wish to leap the span, nor did he appear inclined to step down to the
floor and then up upon the platform.

"Why don't you let him have it?" yelled Andy, as he saw Matt raise the
pistol and then lower it again.

"I don't believe he's so mad after all," returned the boy. "I'm not
going to shoot until I have to. Say!" he went on suddenly, "give him a
tune on one of the accordions."

"What's that?" gasped Andy in astonishment.

"Play him a tune. He may be a trained bear, and if so, the music may
soothe him."

Andy at once caught Matt's idea, and, taking up an accordion which
stood close at h