They walked outside, leaving Harp humped against the wall, moaning through the vibrating tongue of the harp, his right hand fanning slowly past one of his bat-ears, his eyes shut; while one of his upturned feet jerked an occasional accompaniment, all out of time with the beat of his alleged tune. * * * * * “By Gosh, you bettair keep away from de grizz-a-lee,” warned Mose La Clede, a gaunt, bearded Canadian-Frenchman, hitching his belt higher about his hips and shifting the huge quid of tobacco in his cheek. “She’s de bad wan, and she’s ’ongry for little boy.” Little “Whizzer” Malloy, five years of age, lifted his inquiring brown eyes and backed away so quickly that the dragging spur on his little foot tripped him and he fell flat in the dirt. “Ho, ho, ho!” laughed the big man, as he picked the little fellow up and stood him on his feet. The big grizzly in the pole cage rumbled deeply and flung his chest against the front of the cage, biting at the barrier. The semicircle of curious onlookers grinned as the youngster backed away, trying to straighten the spur and watch the bear at the same time. A horse, tied to one of the hitch-racks, snorted as the bear-scent assailed its nostrils, and snapped the tie-rope on a backward surge. A cowboy spat out a curse, ran into the street from a saloon and cornered the animal before it had a chance to leave for parts unknown. That the idle population of Silverton was interested in Mose La Clede’s grizzly was attested by the fact that most of them were already crowding around the cage, which was placed in the street in front of the stage-office. La Clede had trapped the animal in the Smoky Hills, where he had kept it until making a deal with an Eastern zoo. It was a full-grown specimen, savage as a tiger and as powerful as any four-legged animal could be. The pole cage creaked under its lunges, and the crowd shifted uneasily. “How much does he weigh, La Clede?” asked Hank Stagg, who stood at a respectful distance. Hank was in charge of the stage lines, and it was one of his vehicles that was to transport the grizzly to the railroad at Marlin City. “By gosh, I’m dunno,” replied La Clede, scratching his head. “We weigh her on de hay-scale and she’s twelve hundred, forty pound. De cage weigh—I’m dunno how much, but I’m t’ink de bear mak’ ’bout ten hun’red.” “Then how in —— are we goin’ to load it?” queried Hank. “There ain’t enough of us to lift that weight.” “I’m know how,” grinned La Clede. “We tak’ two, t’ree plank and some round pole for de roller, _sabe_? We block de wagon, hitch team to cage by de rope, and pull her up.” “All right,” growled Hank. “Get yore planks and rollers.” The crowd, ever ready to assist, went in search of the required articles, while “Baldy” Malloy, the Whispering Creek stage-driver, went to the livery-stable to get the team, followed closely by Whizzer, whose spur tripped him every few feet.