“I’m glad you’ve come,” said Andy, running forward to meet them.  “Big Bob is in there,” he explained to the trainer, pointing to the cellar.

“You’re a good one, Wildwood,” commended the trainer in an approving tone.  “How did you ever work it?”

Andy explained, while the trainer selected a muzzle for the bear and armed himself with the needle-pointed device.  Then he went to the cellar door.

“Shut it quick after me,” he said.  “Come when I call.”

Andy ran around to the broken window as soon as the trainer was inside the cellar.

He watched the man approach Big Bob.  The bear snarled, made a stand, and showed his teeth.

One punch of the needle-pointed device across his nostrils sent him bellowing.  A second on one ear brought him to the floor.  The trainer pounced on him and adjusted the muzzle over his head.  Then he deftly whipped some hobbles on his front paws.

He yelled to his assistants.  They hurried into the cellar and soon emerged, dragging Big Bob after them.

The owner of the place had stood by watching these proceedings silently.  While the others dragged the bear to the boxed wagon the trainer approached him.

“If there’s any bill for damages, just name it,” he spoke.

“I’ll tell you that mighty soon,” answered the man.

He dashed into the cellar and Andy heard him utter a glad shout.  He came out carrying two old satchels.  Throwing them on the ground he opened them.

They were filled with coins and curios.  The man ran these over eagerly.  He looked up with a face supremely satisfied.

“Not a cent,” he cried heartily.  “No, no—­no damages.  Glad to have served you.”

“All right.  Come on, Wildwood,” said the trainer, starting for the wagon.

“One minute,” interrupted the owner of the place, beckoning to Andy.

He drew out his wallet, fingered over some bank bills, selected one, and grasped Andy’s hand warmly.

“You have done me a vast service,” he declared.  “But for you—­”

“And the bear,” suggested Andy, with a smile.

“All right,” nodded the man, “only, the bear can’t spend money.  You can.  I misjudged you.  Let me make it right.  Take that.”

He released his grasp of Andy’s hand momentarily, to slap into his palm a banknote.

“Now, look here—­” began Andy, modestly.

“No, you look there!” cried the man, pushing Andy towards the wagon.  “Good bye and good luck.”

Andy ran and jumped to the top of the wagon, which had just started up.

Settling himself comfortably, he took a look at the banknote.  His eyes started, and a flush of surprise crossed his face.

It was a fifty dollar bill.

CHAPTER XXVIII

“Hey, Rube!”

“From bad to worse,” said the Man With the Iron Jaw.