The bear was lumbering along as if bent on getting a good start against pursuit.  He chose a sheltered route as if instinctively cunning.  Andy, acting on a quick impulse, started after the bear.

The route led up a hill.  Big Bob scaled a moderately steep incline and disappeared over its crest.

Andy, reaching this, glanced backwards.  From that height he could look well over the country.

The belated train was in sight.  From it, armed with pikes and ropes, a dozen or more menagerie men were running.

The alarm had spread to the settlement of houses near by.  Andy saw several men armed with shotguns and rifles scouring adjacent wood stretches.

“I won’t dare to tackle the bear, but I’ll try and run him down till he gets tired,” thought Andy.

He remembered many a discussion of the menagerie men over the real danger and loss involved in the escape of an animal.  The fugitive rarely did much damage except to hen roosts, beyond scaring human beings.  The trouble was that armed farmers, pursuing, thought it great sport to bring down the fugitive with a shot.  Big Bob was worth a good deal of money to the show.  The principal aim of the menagerie men, therefore, was to prevent the slaughter of an escaped animal.

Down the hill bruin ran and Andy after him.  Then there was a country road and Big Bob put down this.  Andy could easily outrun the fugitive, but this was not his policy for the present.  The disabled foot of the animal diminished his normal speed.  Andy believed that bruin would soon find and harbor himself in some cozy nook.

At a turn in the road Andy noticed that there was a house a few hundred feet ahead.  Beyond this several other dwellings were scattered about the landscape.

“I don’t like that,” mused Andy.  “It may mean trouble.  I’d rather see the old scamp take to the open country.  Wonder if I can head him off?”

Andy leaped a field fence.  He doubled his pace, got even with Big Bob, then ahead of him.  He snatched up a pitchfork lying across a heap of hay, and bolted over the fence to the road again.

Extending the implement, he stood ready to challenge the approaching fugitive, and, if possible, turn bruin’s course.

Big Bob did not appear to notice Andy until about fifty feet distant from him.  Then the animal lifted his shaggy head.  His eyes glared, his collar bristled.

With a deep, menacing roar the bear increased his speed.  He headed defiantly for the pronged barrier which Andy extended.  Big Bob ran squarely upon the pitchfork.  Its prongs grazed the animal’s breast.

Andy experienced a shock.  He was forced back, thrown flat, and the next minute picked himself up from the shallow ditch at the side of the road into which he had fallen.

“Well,” commented Andy, staring down the road, “he’s a good one!”

Big Bob had never stopped.  He was putting ahead for dear life.  Andy watched him near the farm house.