Part 4 (2/2)

After that he was often one of the party when the children went berrying, but if the berries were scarce they preferred to leave him at home. He was quite independent, however, and often went berrying by himself.

Blackberries he managed in the same manner, but when the thorns p.r.i.c.ked his tongue, he would growl and look astonished, as much as to say, ”Now what does that mean? I didn't see a bee about.”

Black Bruin also made other interesting discoveries in the pasture.

One day, either by chance or design, he turned over a small rotten log and found that on the under side it was swarming with ants and grubs.

Then how his tongue did fly as he licked them up and how the ants scampered in every direction trying to hide before he should get them!

But ants and grubs were not the only game under the logs. One day when he had turned over a larger log than usual, he was astonished to see a tiny four-footed creature run squeaking out. Black Bruin hopped clumsily after the field-mouse. Pat, pat went his heavy paws, but the mouse ran this way and that, dodging and squeaking, and several times he missed, although by this time he was quite expert with his paws.

Finally he landed fairly upon the poor mouse, and its life was crushed out. Then he swooped it into his hungry mouth, and found it much better than grubs and ants. After that, whenever a mouse ran out from under a log or stone that he overturned, he made a desperate effort to get it.

One day while sniffing about a hollow log, as was his wont, the bear discovered still a new scent that was neither grubs, ants nor field-mice, so he began tearing the log apart, for it was quite rotten.

He had been at work but a few minutes, when with a great chipping a small striped animal, several times larger than the field-mouse, ran between his legs and scurried away in the gra.s.s. Although much astonished, the bear hurried in hot pursuit. This little creature, like the mouse, ran hither and thither, dodging and twisting. Finally after several misses, he landed his paw squarely upon it and the hunter had bagged his first chipmunk.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Bear Hurried in Hot Pursuit]

This game was so much larger than the field-mouse that he thought it well worth while, and after that whenever he scented a chipmunk about a log or stone wall, he would spend an hour, if need be, until he was satisfied that he could not get at it.

Finally the summer pa.s.sed and the autumn came, and the bear-cub followed the children to the woods for chestnuts, beech-nuts and walnuts.

He, too, learned the secret of the sweet meat under the hard exterior.

Beechnuts he would discover and eat by himself, but walnuts and b.u.t.ternuts he could not crack, and as for chestnuts, he wanted them taken out of their p.r.i.c.kly jackets before he could eat them. Here in the deep woods the bear also discovered several roots which were to his liking, so he was always nosing about in the dead leaves, for if he didn't find nuts, he would find roots.

Thus pa.s.sed the cubhood of Black Bruin, and, from a fuzzy mite, whining for his saucer of milk, he grew into a st.u.r.dy cub, strong and self-reliant, able to forage and hunt for himself.

Without training from any parent, he learned some of the things that it was necessary for him to know in the fields and forest. Thus the instinct of his bear ancestors a.s.serted its power in the pampered and spoiled pet of the farmhouse, and if he had chosen, he could probably have taken care of himself as a real wild bear. But he did not care to do so, although he had every chance to run away; there was something always calling to him at the farmhouse.

The people there had been good to him. In the wood-shed was his nest, and no matter how far away he roamed during the daytime, night always found him back at the house, begging for milk, and taking caresses at the farmer's hands.

These good people had been so large a part of his helpless days that he could not leave them now, although the deep green depths of the woods were probably calling to him, as this was his natural home.

CHAPTER V

A ROLLICKING ROGUE

About Thanksgiving time Black Bruin suddenly disappeared, and although the premises were searched, no trace of him could be found.

Finally, after two or three days, his master gave up the hunt, concluding that the bear had obeyed the wild instinct in his nature and returned to the woods. He had no doubt that he was snugly curled up in some hollow tree where he would sleep away the winter months. Whether he would ever return to them or not, was a matter of conjecture.

All the family mourned his loss, especially the baby, who cried half a day for ”Bar-Bar,” as he called the bear.

One cold December evening when the farmer was bedding down the horse, he imagined he heard a deep, steady breathing under the barn floor, and after listening for some time, was sure of it. His first thought was that some neighbor's dog had gone under the barn to sleep, so he went and lifted up a trap-door that led to the cellar, which was not deep.

He whistled for the dog to come out, but no dog appeared. He could still hear the breathing and was much mystified by it, so he got a lantern and went under the barn to settle his doubts.

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