Several weeks went by, and the imposing¹ stranger, as Blackstock had anticipated, failed to return with his proofs. Then came a letter from the lawyers at Exville, saying that they had something important to communicate, and Blackstock hurried off to see them, planning to be away for about a week.  
On the day following his departure, to the delight of all the children and of most of the rest of the population as well, there arrived at Brine's Rip Mills a man with a dancing bear. He was a black-eyed, swarthy, merry fellow, with a most infectious laugh, and besides his trained bear he possessed² a pedlar's pack containing all sorts of up-to-date odds³ and ends, not by any means to be found in the very utilitarian⁴ miscellany of Zeb Smith's corner store.
 
He talked a rather musical but very broken lingo⁵ that passed for English, flashing a mouthful of splendid white teeth as he did so. He appeared to be an Italian, and the men of Brine's Rip christened him a "Dago" at once. There was no resisting his childlike bonhomie, or the amiable⁶ antics of his great brown bear, which grinned through its muzzle⁷ as if dancing to its master's merry piccolo were its one delight in life. And the two did a roaring business from the moment they came strolling into Brine's Rip.
 
"Tony" was what the laughing vagabond called himself, and his bear answered to the name of Beppo. Business being so good, Tony could afford to be generous, and he was continually pressing peppermint⁸ lozenges upon the rabble⁹ of children who formed a triumphal procession for him wherever he moved. When Tony's eyes first fell on Woolly Billy, standing¹⁰ just outside the crowd, with one arm over the neck of the big black dog, he was delighted.
 
"Com-a here, Bambino, com-a quick!" he cried, holding out some peppermints¹¹. Woolly Billy liked him at once, and adored the bear, but was too shy, or reserved, to push his way through the other children. So Tony came to him, leading the bear. Woolly Billy stood his ground, with a welcoming smile. The big black dog growled¹² doubtfully, and then lost his doubts in curious admiration¹⁴ of the bear, which plainly fascinated him.
 
Woolly Billy accepted the peppermints politely, and put one into his mouth without delay. Then, with an apologetic air, the Italian laid one finger softly on Woolly Billy's curls, and drew back at once, as if fearing he had taken a liberty.
 
"Jim likes the bear, sir, doesn't he?" suggested Woolly Billy, to make conversation.
 
"Everybody he like-a ze bear. Him vaira good bear," asserted the bear's master, and laughed again, giving the bear a peppermint. "An' you one vaira good bambino. Ze bear, he like-a you vaira much. See, he shak-a you ze hand—good frens now."
 
Encouraged by the warmth of his welcome, the Italian had from the first made a practice of dropping in at certain houses of the village just at meal times—when he was received always with true backwoods hospitality. On Woolly Billy's invitation he had come to the house of Mrs. Amos. The old lady, too rheumatic to get about much out of doors, was delighted with such a unique and amusing guest. To all he said—which, indeed, she never more than half understood—she kept ejaculating. "Well, I never!" and "Did ye ever hear the likes o' that?"
 
And the bear, chained to the gate-post and devouring¹⁵ her pancakes-and-molasses, thrilled her with a sense of "furrin parts." In fact, there was no other house at Brine's Rip where Tony and his bear were made more warmly welcome than at Mrs. Amos'. The only member of the household who lacked cordiality was Jim, whose coolness towards Tony, however, was fully¹³ counter-balanced by his interest in the bear. Towards Tony his attitude was one of armed neutrality.
 
On the fourth evening after the arrival of Tony and Beppo, Jim discovered a most tempting¹⁶ lump of meat in the corner of Mrs. Amos' garden. Having something of an appetite at the moment, he was just about to bolt the morsel¹⁷. But no sooner had he set his teeth into it than he conceived a prejudice against it. He dropped it, and sniffed¹⁸ at it intently. The smell was quite all right. He turned it over with his paw and sniffed at the under side. No, there was nothing the matter with it. Nevertheless, his appetite had quite vanished. Well, it would do for another time. He dug a hole and buried the morsel, and then went back to the house to see what Woolly Billy and Mrs. Amos were doing.
 
A little later, just as Mrs. Amos was lighting²⁰ the lamps in the kitchen, the rattling²¹ of a chain was heard outside, followed by the whimpering of Beppo, who objected to being tied up to the gate-post when he wanted to come in and beg for pancakes. Woolly Billy ran to the door and peered forth²² into the dusk. After a few moments Tony entered, all his teeth agleam in his expansive smile.
 
He had a little bag of bon-bons for Woolly Billy—something much more fascinating than peppermints—which he doled²³ out to the child one by one, as a rare treat. And for himself he wanted a cup of tea, which hospitable²⁴ Mrs. Amos was only too eager to brew²⁵ for him. Jim, seeing that Woolly Billy was too interested to need his company, got up and went out to inspect the bear.
 
Tony was in gay spirits that evening. In his broken English, and helping²⁶ out his meaning with eloquent²⁷ gestures, he told of adventures which made Woolly Billy's eyes as round as saucers and reduced Mrs. Amos to admiring speechlessness. He made Mrs. Amos drink tea with him, pouring it out for her himself while she hobbled about to find him something to eat. And once in a while, at tantalizing²⁸ intervals²⁹, he allowed Woolly Billy one more bon-bon.
 
There was a chill in the night air, so Tony, who was always politeness itself, asked leave to close the door. Mrs. Amos hastened also to close the window. Or, rather, she tried to hasten, but made rather a poor attempt, and sat down heavily in the big arm-chair beside it.
 
"My legs is that heavy," she explained, laughing apologetically. So Tony closed the window himself, and at the same time drew the curtains. Then he went on talking.
 
But apparently³⁰ his conversation was less interesting than it had been. There came a snore from Mrs. Amos' big chair. Tony glanced aside at Woolly Billy, as if expecting the child to laugh. But Woolly Billy took no notice of the sound. He was fast asleep, his fluffy³¹ fair head fallen forward upon the red table-cloth.
 
Tony looked at the clock on the mantel-piece. It was not as late as he could have wished, but he had observed that Brine's Rip went to bed early. He turned the lamp low, softly raised the window, and looked out, listening. There were no lights in the village, and all was silence save for the soft roar of the Rip. He extinguished the lamp, and waited a few moments till his eyes got quite accustomed to the gloom.
 
At length he picked up the slight form of Woolly Billy (who was now in a drugged stupor³² from which he would not awake for hours), and slung³³ him over his left shoulder. In his right hand he grasped his short bear-whip, with its loaded butt³⁴. He stepped noiselessly to the door, listened a few moments, and then opened it inch by inch with his left hand, standing behind it, and grasping the whip so as to be ready to strike with the butt. He was wondering where the big black dog was.
 
The door was about half open, when a black shape, appearing suddenly, launched itself at the opening. The loaded butt came crashing down—and Jim dropped sprawling³⁵ across the threshold.
 
From the back of the bear Tony now unfastened a small pack, and strapped³⁶ it over his right shoulder. Then he unchained the great beast noiselessly, and led it off to the waterside, to a spot where a heavy log canoe was drawn³⁷ up upon the beach. He hauled the canoe down, making much disarrangement in the gravel³⁸, launched it, thrust it far out into the water, and noted³⁹ it being carried away by the current. He had no wish to journey by that route himself, knowing that as soon as the crime was discovered, which might chance at any moment, the telephone would give the alarm all down the river.
 
Next he undid⁴⁰ the bear's chain, and took off its muzzle, and threw them both into the water, knowing that when freed from these badges of servitude the animal would wander further and more freely. At first the good-natured creature was unwilling⁴¹ to leave him. Its master, from policy, had always treated it kindly⁴², and fed it well, and it was in no hurry to profit by its freedom.
 
However, the man ordered it off towards the woods, enforcing the command by a vigorous push and a stroke of the whip. Shaking itself till it realized its freedom, it slouched away a few paces down stream, then turned into the woods. The man listened to its careless, crashing progress.
 
&q............