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I know him. You a friend of his?"
    "No. Just curious."
    "Then I tell you. He is poison. Pure poison."
    "Thanks," said Lee.
    He joined the Captain on the pavement outside.
    He was about to turn towards the Harbor Master's office when he had a surprise. The bear by the bollard stood up, turned to them, and said:
    'You."
    He was looking directly at Lee. His voice was profound. Lee felt himself startled witless for a moment, and then gathered himself and crossed the road to the waterside. Hester stayed very close to his feet, and Lee picked her up.
    'You want me?" Lee said.
    Face to face, the bear was formidable. He was young, as far as Lee could judge; his body was enormous, and his small black eyes quite unreadable. His ivory-colored fur waved in ripples as the brisk wind played over it. Lee could feel Hester's little heart beating fast close to his.
    The bear said, 'You gonna help him?" He looked briefly at the Captain, watching them from across the road, and then back at Lee.
    "That's my intention," said Lee carefully.

    "Then I help you."
    "Do you know Captain van Breda then?"
    "I know his enemy is my enemy."
    "Well then, Mr. . . . Mr. Bear—"
    "Iorek Byrnison," said the bear.
    "York Burningson, the Captain needs to get at a cargo that's locked in the warehouse, and load it on his ship, and get away. And his enemy, who's my enemy too, as well as yours, wants to stop him. I reckon we got a short time to do it in, and then we're in trouble. Patience and caution are my watchwords, Mr. Burningson, but sometimes we have to take a risk. You willing to risk trouble?"
    'Yes."
    "Now I heard that your people make armor for themselves," Lee said. "Do you have armor?"
    "A helmet. No more."
    The bear reached down past the edge of the stone wharf to the top of the flight of steps and lifted up a battered, clumsy iron sheet of a curious shape and curvature. A chain hung from one corner, and Lee blinked with surprise as the bear deftly swung it over his head and hooked the chain from one corner to another under his throat. Suddenly the metal didn't look clumsy anymore: it fitted him perfectly. The bear's black eyes glittered in the depths of the two great eyeholes.
    Lee was aware that they were attracting attention. People were pointing, windows opening, and a little crowd of onlookers had gathered across the road. When Iorek Byrnison put the helmet on, there was an audible intake of breath, and Lee remembered the poet saying that the bears were not allowed to wear their armor in town.
    The Captain joined them, looking at Lee questioningly.
    "The odds just got better, Captain," Lee said. "This is York Burningson, and he's going to ride shotgun with us."
    "Byrnison," said the bear.
    "Byrnison. Beg your pardon. Now the first thing we have to do is get past the Harbor Master, so you leave the talking to me. Let's go down the quay, gentlemen, and open a warehouse."
    Lee led the way along the waterfront, and turned onto the quay itself. By this time the number of spectators had grown to thirty or so, and more were coming out from the side streets that led down to the harbor. They followed a short distance behind, pointing, talking excitedly, beckoning others to come and join them. Lee was aware of that, but not distracted: his eye was on the Harbor Master's office, where the door had opened briefly to let the man look out, and then closed again.
    'You got that letter, Captain?" he said. "Better let me have it."
    The Captain handed it over.
    "Thanks. Now I'm going to be spinning a yarn, York Byrnison, so my attention will be kind of occupied, and I'd be obliged if you'd keep an eye out for any trouble."
    "I will," said the bear.
    They reached the building that housed the Harbor Master's office, and the door opened again. Mr. Aagaard came out, fumbling with the last button of his uniform, and stood in the center of the quay facing them.
    "Good day, Mr. Aagaard," said Lee cheerfully. "I hope this fine morning finds you well. Step aside, if you