The animal turned in at a road gateway.  He ran rapidly up to an open window at the side of the house.

Its sill held something, Andy could not precisely make out what at the distance he was from the spot.  He fancied, however, that it was dishes holding pies or some other food, put out to cool.

Big Bob arose erect on his hind legs, his fore feet rested on the window sill.  His great muzzle dipped into whatever it held.

At that moment from inside the farmhouse there rang out the most curdling yell Andy Wildwood had ever heard.

CHAPTER XXVI

A CLEVER RUSE

The boy acrobat scrambled up from the roadside ditch, seized the pitchfork, and dashed along in the direction Big Bob had taken.

A glance showed the audacious animal still at the window of the farmhouse, though now under it.

Bruin had swept the contents of the window sill to the ground with one movement of his great paw.  He was now discussing the merits of the dishes he had dislodged with a crash.

Andy ran around to the other side of the house.  From within occasional hysterical shrieks issued.  They were mingled with distracted sobs.  At another open window Andy halted.

He could look into a middle apartment crossing the entire house.  Crouching in a corner was a young woman.  Her eyes were fixed in terror on the window at which the bear had appeared.

In her arms was a child, crying in affright.  An older woman stood at a telephone, twisting its call bell handle frantically.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Andy.  “It’s a harmless old bear escaped from the circus down at the tracks.”

The two women regarded him mutely, too scared to believe him.  Andy heard the telephone bell ring.

“Quick! quick!” cried the woman at the instrument.  “Send help.  A big bear!  We’ll be devoured alive!”

“No you won’t,” declared Andy in a shout, making around the house.

He hardly knew what to do next, but he kept his eyes open.  He hoped for some discovery among the truck littering the yard that would suggest a way of getting Big Bob again on the run.

“Capital—­the very thing,” cried Andy suddenly.

He dropped the pitchfork and whipped out his pocket knife.  In two seconds he had severed a forty-foot stretch of clothes line running from a hook on the house to a post.

Then Andy ran to the kitchen door.  Hanging at its side was a big piece of raw beef.

It was evidently from an animal recently slaughtered, for it was still moist and dripping.  Andy tightly secured one end of the clothes line about it.  He ran to the side of the house.

Big Bob was just finishing a repast on some apple pie.  Andy gave the meat a fling.  It struck the bear in the face.  Big Bob raised his head.  He sniffed and licked his lips.  He made an eager, hungry spring for the meat, which had rebounded several feet.