'Grrrooonnn,' said Tom.
'There, do you hear him? Is that to be called a Christian language?'
'Come, come, my friend,' said the sergeant, who had at last managed to distinguish Tom in the faint twilight. 'We all know what it is to be young—no one likes a joke better than I do—but rules are rules, and the hour for going home has struck, so right about face, march! and quick step too.'
'Grrrooonnn'—
'Very pretty; a first-rate imitation. But suppose we try something else now for a change. Come, old fellow, step out with a good will. Ah! you won't. You're going to cut up rough, are you? Here, my man, lay hold and turn him out.'
'He won't walk, sergeant.'
'Well, what are the butt ends of your muskets for? Come, a tap or two will do no harm.'
'Grrrooonnn—Grrrooonnn—Grrrooonnn—'
'Go on, give it him well!'
'I say, sergeant,' said one of the men, 'it strikes me he's a real bear. I caught hold of him by the collar just now, and the skin seems to grow on the flesh.'
'Oh, if he's a real bear treat him with every consideration. His owner might claim damages. Go and fetch the fireman's lantern.'
'Grrrooonnn.'
'Here's the lantern,' said a man; 'now then, throw some light on the prisoner.'
The soldier obeyed.
'It is certainly a real snout,' declared the sergeant.
'Goodness gracious me!' shrieked the box-opener as she took to her heels, 'a real live bear!'
'Well, yes, a real live bear. Let's see if he has any name or address on him and take him home. I expect he has strayed, and being of a sociable disposition, came in to the Masked Ball.'
