"Hey, horsey! Good horsey!" And he stooped and unfastened the chain from the post.
I imagined that the Italian had called the bear "Orso," perhaps with some diminutive, but I did not care to discuss this.

I was very much interested to see what the man was going to do.

With the end of the chain in his hand, John now stepped in front of the bear and said, "Come along, horsey!" and, to my surprise, the bear began to shamble after him as quietly as if he had been following his old master.
"See!" cried John.

"He'll go anywheres I choose to take him!" and he began to lead him about the yard.
As he approached the kitchen there came a fearful scream from the open window.
"Take him away! Take him away!" I heard, in the shrillest accents.
"They're dreadfully skeered," said John, as he led the bear back; "but he wouldn't hurt nobody! It would be a good thing, though, to put his muzzle on; that's it hangin' over there by the shed; it's like a halter, and straps up his jaws.

The Dago said there ain't no need for it, but he puts it on when he's travellin' along the road to keep people from bein' skeered." "It would be well to put it on," said I."I wonder if we can get him into it ?" "I guess he'd let you do anything you'd a mind to," replied John, as he again fastened the chain to the post.
I took down the muzzle and approached the bear.