“Central—­where?” asked Andy.

“Brownville.”

“Are you anywhere near the way station where the circus train is sidetracked?” inquired Andy.

“Certainly.  We’re the station town.”

“Can you reach any of the circus folks?”

“Reach them?” responded the distant telephone operator animatedly.  “The woods are full of them.  They say the whole menagerie has escaped, and they’re hunting for the animals everywhere.  What do you want?”

“I want to talk with some one connected with the show—­and—­quick.”

“All right I’ve just got to call to the street.  Wait a minute.”

Soon a new voice came over the telephone:  “Hello.”

“Who is that?” asked Andy promptly.

“Brophy.”

“Oh, the chief hostler?  Say, Mr. Brophy, this is Andy Wildwood.”

“The acrobat?—­where are you?”

“Tumbler, yes.  Listen:  I’ve found and caged Big Bob.”

“What’s that?—­Say, where?”

Even over the wire Andy could discern that the man at the other end of the line was manifestly stirred up.

“Let me tell you,” spoke Andy.  “I’ve got the animal shut up in a cellar.  For how long or how safe, I can’t tell.  You had better tell the trainer, and get some people here with the things to secure the bear.”

“I’ll do it,” called back Brophy.  “Try and keep those crazy farmers from finding him.  There’s a hundred of them out gunning.”

“All right.  Listen.”

Andy described his present location.  He wound up by saying he would stay within call—–­ telephone 26—­until the capturing crew put in an appearance.

Andy sat down in an easy chair in the hall a good deal satisfied with himself.  However, he felt a trifle squeamish at the thought of the tenant of the premises returning and finding him there.

A growling grunt came to his ears.  Andy, tracing it, came to an open doorway leading down under the front stairs to the cellar.

This he closed and locked, although he saw that the stairs were too crooked and narrow to admit of Big Bob ascending to the upper portion of the house.

Andy simply rested.  There was no further call on the telephone.  Finally he arose abruptly to his feet.

The sound of wagon wheels came from the front of the house.  A minute later footsteps echoed on the steps.  A key grated in the front door lock.  The door swung open.

“Hi—­Hello!  Who are you?” sang out a brusque, challenging voice.

The minute the newcomer entered the hall his eyes fell on Andy.  They became filled with dark suspicion.  He was a powerfully-built, intellectual-looking man.  Andy believed he was the proprietor of the premises, although he did not resemble a farmer.

This man kicked the door shut behind him.  He made a pounce on Andy and grabbed his arm.

“Let me explain “—­began Andy.

“How did you get in here?” retorted the man, his brow darkening.