BRUNO MUST DEPART 125 
point between my shoulder-blades. And now the 
scene grew more animated. Our little play was 
changing from comedy to tragedy. The bear began 
to dance and whirl me round and round. He bent 
me backwards. He pushed me violently from side 
to side. Oh, how I wish I had known at that time 
the steps of the weird and wriggly dances of to-day ! 
But Bruno’s ragtime demonstration gave me no 
enjoyment. His claws were setting into the flesh 
of my back. I was growing tired and anxious. 
Vainly I requested that we sit down and rest a 
while. But no, it was on with the dance, and away 
we whirled. Intermittently I caught glimpses of 
Mrs. Underwood anxiously watching my efforts 
from a vantage-point on the piazza. Her face grew 
longer and longer with my every revolution. 
Awkwardly I missed step, and one of Bruno’s 
heavy paws came down upon my foot. Backward 
I fell on the grass. The bear on top kept firm his 
hold upon his partner, and right there, as far as I 
was concerned, this story was near its end. Bruno 
was beginning to lose his temper. He would not 
let me get up. I tried to choke him off; but the 
harder I gripped his throat, the more he growled 
and shook my jacket, and the tighter he squeezed 
mein his arms. Oh, why had n’t I taken the advice 
of my friends and sent him away long ago? 
Suddenly, at this critical point, the fates were 
