The man began immediately to pour out an explanation upon me.  His English was as badly broken as the torn parts of my tire, but I had no trouble in understanding.  The bear had got loose in the night.  He had pulled up a little post to which he had been chained.  The man had not known it was such a weak post.  The bear was never muzzled at night.  He had gone about looking for something to eat.  He was very fond of India-rubber—­or, as the man called it, “Injer-rub.”  He always ate up India-rubber shoes wherever he could find them.  He would eat them off a man’s feet if the man should be asleep.  He liked the taste of Injer-rub.  He did not swallow it.  He dropped it all about in little bits.

[Illustration:  But we were not alone]

Then the man sprang towards me and seized the injured wheel.  “See!” he exclaimed.  “He eat your Injer-rub, but he no break your machine!”

This was very true.  The wheel did not seem to be injured, but still I could not travel without a tire.  This was the most satisfactory feature of the affair.  If he and I had been alone together I would have handed the man two dollars, and told him to go in peace with his bear and give himself no more trouble.

But we were not alone.  The stable-man who had lied to me about the fishing was there; the boy who had lied to me about the reception of cyclers was there; the lemon-faced woman was there, standing close to Mrs. Chester; and there were two maids looking out of the window of the kitchen.

“This is very bad indeed!” said Mrs. Chester, addressing the Italian.  “You have damaged this gentleman’s wheel, and you must pay him for it.”

Now the Italian began to tear his hair.  Never before had I seen any one tear his hair.  More than that, he shed tears, and declared he had no money.  After he had paid his bill he would not have a cent in the world.  His bear had ruined him.  He was in despair.

“What are you going to do?” said Mrs. Chester to me.  “You cannot use your bicycle.”

Before I could answer, the elderly woman exclaimed:  “You ought to come in, Mrs. Chester!  This is no place for you!  Suppose that beast should break loose again!  Let the gentleman settle it with the man.”

I do not think my hostess wanted to go, but she accompanied her grim companion into the house.

“I suppose there is no place near here where I can have a new tire put on this wheel?” said I to the stable-man.

“Not nearer than Waterton,” he replied; “but we could take you and your machine there in a wagon.”

“That’s so,” said the boy.  “I’ll drive.”

I glared upon the two fellows as if they had been a couple of fiends who were trying to put a drop of poison into my cup of joy.  To be dolefully driven to Waterton by that boy!  What a picture!  How different from my picture!

The Italian sat down on the ground and embraced his knees with his arms.  He moaned and groaned, and declared over and over again that he was ruined; that he had no money to pay.