While the gipsy lazily piped upon his whistle, and the bear continued to dance, Peter entered the inn and persuaded the scolding housewife--whose head was fairly whirling with so much coming and going--to ransack her store for some of last year's honey. She gave it to him reluctantly; but, then, he would never be denied anything when he asked for it. He fed the beast with the melliferous morsel and such was the creature's appreciation that he insisted upon following Peter, wagging his head from side to side with a most ludicrous motion, as though coaxing him for more. "You're a cupboard lover, my friend, I fear," said Peter. The bear sat down, whoofed and whimpered, while his master twitched at the chain. "Hungry, eh?" Peter poked him in the ribs. "You look like it; never saw a bigger bag of bones in my life! Here, you fellow, why don't you feed him better?" "What's that to you?" "I don't like to see a hungry brother." "Get up," said the man to the bear; but it would not move, and continued to whimper and look at Peter. The gipsy grasped his stick in one hand, while he shortened the chain with the other. His temper was rising. "Leave the poor brute alone," interposed Peter; "it's only crying for its supper, like little Tommy Tucker. Nay, now, leave it alone." "Is it yours or mine, master?" "Why, mine. See what a fancy it's taken to me!" He laughed good-humouredly. "I've a notion the beast would make a nice pet. What'll you sell him for, you fellow?" The gipsy took no notice; he thought that Fleming was fooling him. He raised his stick threateningly, but before the sharp point, which the bear had learnt to know and fear, could descend, it was twisted out of his hands. "Might is right," said Peter, with a broad grin. The man was angry; his was a nature that could ill brook crossing. He clenched his fists, and came nearer, but he looked twice at his antagonist, and decided that discretion was the better part of valour. Peter was not only broader than himself, but taller, and he had heard that the gentleman was a great wrestler. "Ho, my good fellow," said Fleming, "are you going to fight me for him? Better come into the inn and settle the matter over a pot of beer." "What do you want the bear for, master?" "To play with--poodles aren't in my line. I need something big. Besides, I've an idea you'll be sending him to the knacker's in a week or two, and I'd like to save him from such a fate." The gipsy looked him over, wondering if he were in jest or earnest. "Honest! quite honest!" said Peter, reading the man's glance. The gipsy's eyes began to sparkle, and he turned towards the inn. "Come on, master," said he; "if you wants the bear you shall have him." They went in, while Jake the rat-catcher called after them: "Don't let the fellow cheat you, lad. He wouldn't get sixpence for the carcase if he sold it for dog's meat. There isn't a crow-picking on its bones."