"I guess he's beggin' for his breakfust," said John.
"Can't you get him something to eat ?" I asked.

"He ought to be fed, to begin with." The man went back to the kitchen, and I walked slowly around the bear, looking at the chain and the post, and trying to see what sort of a collar was almost hidden under his shaggy hair.

Apparently he seemed securely attached, and then--as he was at the end of his chain--I went up to him and gently patted one paw.

He did not object to this, and turning his head he let his tongue loll out on the other side, fixing his little black eyes upon me with much earnestness.

When the man came with the pan of scraps from the kitchen I took it from him and placed it on the ground in front of the bear.