[Frontispiece: BLACK BRUIN'S FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH A PANTHER]

BLACK BRUIN

The Biography of a Bear

By

Clarence Hawkes

Author of

 Shaggycoat, The Biography of a Beaver The Trail to the Woods Tenants of the Trees The Little Foresters etc. 

Illustrated by

Charles Copeland

Philadelphia

George W. Jacobs & Co. 

Publishers

Copyright, 1908, by

GEORGE W. JACOBS AND COMPANY

_All rights reserved_

Printed in U. S. A. 

Dedicated to

My illustrator and friend

MR. CHARLES COPELAND

 whose clever brush has caught so perfectly each whim of nature in field and forest, and called from hiding the furtive furred and feathered folk, who come and go like shadows in the ancient woods. 

 THE GREAT BEAR OF THE MOUNTAINS

 He had stolen the belt of Wampum From the neck of Mishe-mokwa, From the Great Bear of the mountains, From the terror of the nations, As he lay asleep and cumbrous, On the summit of the mountains, Like a rock with mosses on it, Spotted brown and gray with mosses. --LONGFELLOW. 

CONTENTS

 URSUS, THE DROLL. INTRODUCTORY I. A THIEF IN THE NIGHT II. THE CHASE III. A WILDERNESS BABY IV. THE CUBHOOD OF BLACK BRUIN V. A ROLLICKING ROGUE VI. THE LIFE OF A DANCING-BEAR VII. THE VAGABONDS VIII. THE BEAST AND THE MAN IX. LIFE IN THE WILD X. THE GREAT BEAR-HUNT XI. A PLEASANT COMPANION XII. THE KING OF THE MOUNTAIN XIII. THE BEAR WITH A COLLAR XIV. THE WRECK

ILLUSTRATIONS

Black Bruin's first acquaintance with a panther . . . _Frontispiece_

The bear hurried in hot pursuit

Black Bruin dealt the porcupine a crushing blow

Growler sprang at Black Bruin's throat

He discovered another bear, watching the stream

URSUS, THE DROLL

INTRODUCTORY

With the possible exception of the deer family, the bear is the mostwidely disseminated big game, known to hunters. 

He makes his home within the Arctic Circle, often living upon the greatice-floe, or dwells within a tropical jungle, and both climates areagreeable to him, while longitudinally he has girdled the world. 

Of course bruin varies much, according to the climate in which helives, and the conditions of his life, but all the way from the polesto the tropics he retains certain characteristics that always proclaimhim a bear. 

He is a plantigrade, walking like a man upon the soles of his feet. There is more truth than poetry in Kipling's poem, "The Man Who WalksLike a Bear, " for some men do walk like a bear. 

Bruin's four-footed gait is a shuffle and a shamble, rather clumsy andludicrous, but it takes him over the ground at a surprising pace. Queer, also, is the fact that the bear combines great dexterity withhis seeming clumsiness, as many a hunter has found to his cost. Histree-climbing accomplishments are likewise remarkable, when we considerhis great size and weight. The grizzlies, and some other largevarieties, do not do tree-climbing, except when they are young. Agrizzly cub can climb a tree, but his wrists soon become too stiff topermit of their bending about the trunk. 

Bruin's disposition also varies with the climate he inhabits. This inturn is because his diet varies in differing latitudes. The farthersouth he ranges, the more of a vegetarian he becomes. Consequently, heis not so ferocious. The great white polar bear is largelycarnivorous, so he is a creature not to be trifled with; while on theother hand, the little African sun bear is a rollicking, social, good-natured little chap, weighing many times less than his fiercecousin. 

Formerly, it has been supposed that the Numidian lion and the Bengaltiger were the largest carnivorous animals in existence, but morerecent discoveries show that our Alaskan brown bear, found upon thepeninsulas of lower Alaska and Kodiak Island, is easily the master ofeither, in size or strength. Some of the splendid skins taken fromthese, the largest of all the bears, measure fourteen feet in length. Alaska also gives us the smallest North American bear, the glacial bear. 

Californians are wont to tell us that the only true grizzly is thatfound upon the cover of the _Overland Monthly_, but they overlook thefact that the name was given to bears found along the Missouri River byLewis and Clarke, years before California, with all its wealth, wasdiscovered. 

In Russia, a fine specimen of the family is found in the UralMountains. His peculiarity is a white collar about the neck, so hisLatin name, _Ursus collaris_, means the bear with a collar. Allthrough the Himalayas, this restless plantigrade has wandered, and evenfar down upon the low-lying plains of India and China; but all the wayhe shuffles and shambles and is the same droll fellow. 

The bear's vegetable diet consists of berries, nuts and many kinds ofroots. He will not refuse sweet apples and pears when he can findthem. In the tropics he eats nearly all the fruits that the nativeseat and leads altogether a lazy, luxurious life. Since food isplentiful in these warm climates, he does not have to cross the path ofman to get it, or be forced to steal, as the bear living in colderclimes often does; so he is a good-natured, easy-going fellow, who willlet you alone if you do not pick a quarrel with him. This is much moretrue of bears in general, than is usually supposed. 

In the tropics, the bear does not have to hibernate to keep the fatthat he has gained in the time of plenty upon his ribs. So his periodof sleeping is very short and in many cases he does not hibernate atall; while, on the other hand, the bear of the cold northland sleepsnearly half of the year. 

Hibernation seems to be a wise provision of nature by means of whichthe bear conserves his flesh and strength during extreme weather. Whenthe ground is covered several feet deep with snow, it will readily beseen that berry-picking would be difficult, and nuts and roots would behard to find, as would the ants and grubs under logs and stones, withwhich the bear varies his diet in fine weather. The chipmunks and micehave also denned up, so there is not much for bruin to do but sleep. 

There is one weakness that I believe the bear always indulges wheneverhe can, no matter in what clime he be found, and that is a love forsweets, especially honey. He will dare the sharp bayonets of the mostangry swarm of bees or climb the worst tree, if he feels at all certainthat there will be honey after his pains. In some countries, hedamages a great many telephone and telegraph poles and wires byclimbing the poles in search of that swarm of bees, which he imagineshe hears humming, inside the pole. 

In the temperate zone bears mate in the summer months and the young areborn late in January, during hibernation. Bear-cubs are very smallbabies for such large parents, weighing much less in proportion totheir dams than most other mammals. They are blind, helpless andalmost hairless. 

As the old bear is very fat when they are born and they do nothing butsleep in the dark den, they grow rapidly, so that when they are finallybrought forth at the age of perhaps four months, they have developedwonderfully and would hardly be recognized as the tiny blind cubs of afew weeks before. 

When the old bears first come forth from hibernation they eat verylittle for two or three weeks. Their long fast and the inactivity ofthe vital organs have greatly weakened the digestive parts, so theymust have time in which to recover, before they are made to do the hardwork of digesting flesh and bone. The bear, therefore, wisely contentshimself with grass and browse, living very much as a deer would, untilhis digestive organs have regained their usual tone, when he will gorgehimself upon the first victim that he is lucky enough to catch. 

If Bruin lives in the vicinity of civilization, he would prefer tobreak his fast with tender young pig. Pig, to the bear, is what'possum is to the negro. He will travel for miles and take risks thathe does not often expose himself to, if thereby he can secure asquealing porker. 

The sire and dam do not hibernate together and they are seen togetheronly during a few weeks of their honeymoon. 

Winter quarters are usually found under a fallen tree-top, or in somenatural den in the rocks. If a suitable place cannot be secured, thebear will even do some excavating on his own account, but theygenerally choose a den that nature has provided. 

The smaller bears which are usually known as the black bear, are foundto be both black and brown. Cubs of both colors will often bediscovered with the same mother, but the brown variety is not foundeast of the Mississippi River. The really black bear also varies incolor with the seasons, being darker and glossier in the cold months. 

To see a bear really enjoy himself is to discover him in the blueberrylot, standing upon his hind legs, swooping the berries into his mouthwith ravenous delight. At such a time his grin of benevolence is veryapparent. 

The cubs den up with the old bear the first fall, but usually shift forthemselves when the new cubs come, although it is not an infrequentsight to see an old bear with two sizes of cubs following her. 

As a rule, the different varieties of black bear are not dangerous. While they will occasionally charge the hunter when wounded, theyusually flee away at their best pace when danger appears. 

Even when interested with berry-picking or hunting, the bear iswatchful and wary and as his scent and hearing are of the keenest, heis hard to surprise. It is probably true that his eyesight is not askeen as his other senses. 

The black bear is hunted both on the still hunt, and with dogs. Whendogs are employed, a large pack is used, and they merely run the bearuntil it is treed or brought to bay, when it is shot by the hunter. Dogs are of little, if any, use in hunting grizzlies. 

There are several varieties of large bears, probably all variations ofgrizzlies, which are differentiated locally. Some of these are theroachback, the silver tip, the California grizzly, the plains bear, thesmut-face, etc. 

In the olden days before the grizzly became wise, he would chargeanything that walked either on two or four feet. But he has nowlearned all about firearms, and is as willing to run from the hunter, as is his cousin, the black bear. 

The bear's manner of hunting large game is usually by ambush. As mostof his victims are more fleet of foot than he, he does not undertake torun them down in the open, but if he can get them at disadvantage inthick cover, or at the lick, this is his opportunity. 

In the Adirondack country and in Northern Maine, it is a common sightto see a young bear about a farmhouse, where he is as much at home asthe farm-dog. Many of the summer hotels, in this region, keep a tamebear to amuse the visitors. 

These bears are obtained as cubs from any one who is fortunate enoughto discover a bear's den and who has the good luck to find the old bearaway from home and the cubs at his mercy. 

A likely cub can usually be obtained in either Maine or Northern NewYork for five or ten dollars. 

Bears occasionally stray down the Green Mountains into WesternMassachusetts, where they inhabit the Hoosac Mountains, which are acontinuation of this range. 

Very recently a bear was killed near October Mountain, upon Mr. Whitney's extensive game-preserve. He had been hanging about themountain all summer and had given two belated pedestrians a livelysprint only the night before his Waterloo. Being emboldened by theseeming servility of the neighborhood, bruin finally went to afarmhouse and, forcing the kitchen door, marched boldly into thewell-ordered room to see what they were going to have for dinner. While waiting for this meal, he amused himself by tumbling the pots andpans about. This enraged the thrifty housewife, who seized adouble-barreled shotgun standing in the corner and discharged bothbarrels simultaneously at the intruder. When the smoke cleared away, it was discovered that she had bagged a bear weighing three hundredpounds. 

The dancing bear of song and story, as well as of real life, has longbeen the delight of children, but he is not now seen as frequently asof yore. Bears in the circus to-day play a minor part in theperformance. 

This short introductory chapter is the pedigree and characteristics inbrief, of Ursus, the bear, whose varieties, like those of Reynard, thefox, are legion. 

I have tried to give the reader some idea of the bear in general, butthese facts about bruin must be varied as the climate varies betweenthe arctic regions and the tropics. If a meat diet makes man cross andbrutal, and a fruit and vegetable diet makes him amiable and indolent, they affect bruin in the same manner. 

But wherever you find a bear, be he a grizzly, black, or polar, baskingin the tropical sun, or freezing upon the ice-floe, he will still bethe same droll old chap, shuffling and shambling, sniffing andinquiring with his keen nose. If he be the smaller black or brownbear, he will often be found in the company of man, conducting himselfwith dignity, and generally showing much good behavior for a wild beast. 

Black Bruin

CHAPTER I

A THIEF IN THE NIGHT

Outside, the fitful early April wind howled dismally, swaying theleafless branches of the old elm, and causing them to rub complaininglyagainst the gable end of the farmhouse. Two or three inches of finesnow had fallen the day before and the wind tossed it about gleefully, festooning the window-sashes and piling it high upon window-sills. Itwas one of old winter's last kicks and made it seem even more wintrythan it really was. 

Although the wind moaned and the snow danced fitfully, within a certainquaint farmhouse in Northern New York was warmth and comfort, all themore apparent by the touch of winter outside. 

A cheerful fire was crackling in a large kitchen range, suggesting, byits brightness and snapping, pine-knots full of pitch and resin. Thefront doors of the stove were open and the firelight danced across theroom, filling it with cheer. It was one of those homelike kitchenswhere everything is spick and span, and the nickel on the stove shineslike silver. 

A young farmer of perhaps thirty years was sitting with his shoes offand his heels toasting upon the hearth, while his wife, a pretty, rosy-cheeked country girl, of about his own age, sat in a largesplint-bottom chair, sewing. If it needed one more thing to completethe cozy picture of simple, wholesome country life, it was not wanting, for just at the wife's elbow was a cradle, which she occasionallyjogged with her foot, giving it just enough motion to keep it swayinggently. In the cradle slumbered the heir of the household and the linkof pure gold that bound these two lives together. 

Everything in the room breathed contentment. The kettle hummed andsputtered, sending forth its white cloud of steam, while the kitchenclock ticked off the pleasant moments. 

The man was deeply interested in the weekly paper for which he had justdriven to the office, but he occasionally stopped to take a bite out ofa large red Baldwin apple that he found in a dish on the table near by. 

He was so engrossed in local items that he did not hear his wife'sexcited question until it was repeated for the second time. 

"John, what is that?" she asked. 

"What is what?" he replied, laying down his paper that he might givehis full attention to her inquiry. 

"That noise on the piazza, " she answered in a low tone. 

"I don't hear any noise, " returned the man; but almost as he spoke aslow shambling step made the floor-boards of the old piazza creak and aheavy hand was laid upon the door. 

"Hello, who's there?" asked the man, for he could think of no one whowould be calling at the hour of nine, which is really late in a farmingcommunity. 

But there was no reply to his inquiry, only the sound of a heavy stepmoving up and down in front of the door. 

"Who are you, and what do you want?" repeated the young farmer in anirritated tone, for he was both surprised and annoyed by the intrusion. 

For answer, the kitchen door began creaking and straining as thoughgreat force was being exerted on it from the outside, and before theastonished couple could exchange glances of amazement and incredulity, with a mighty crash it tumbled in upon them, bringing one door-jambwith it, and fell with a bang upon the floor. 

But the most astonishing thing of all was the figure that stood drawnup to its full height in the doorway. 

The man and woman sat as though petrified, amazement and fear writtenupon their pale faces, for there in the doorway, eyeing them intently, and with no thought of retreat, was a large black bear. 

As the bear stood there, arms akimbo, bear fashion, her great whiteteeth showing through half-parted lips, and the strong claws suggestingwhat execution could be done by a well-directed blow, she was anythingbut a reassuring visitor. 

The young farmer, feeling that something must be done to scare off thishair-raising intruder, leaped to his feet in sudden desperation, and, shouting at the top of his voice, seized the door and slammed it backinto the casing with all his strength, bumping the bear's noseseverely. Then he set his shoulder against it, and braced with all hismight. 

But his move was a bad one, for there was a short angry growl on theoutside and the next instant the door, farmer and all went spinningacross the room, the man falling heavily and striking against the stovein the fall, and the great shaggy monster at once followed up heradvantage by shambling awkwardly into the room. 

The woman screamed and fainted, and then a gust of wind from the opendoorway blew out the light, leaving the kitchen in darkness. 

For a few moments the only sounds heard in the room were the ticking ofthe clock, the humming of the teakettle, and the shambling steps of thebear as she prowled about. But both of the figures on the floor wereunconscious of what was going on, while a bright stream of bloodtrickled from a deep cut in the man's forehead. 

Finally he was aroused by a cold draft of air upon his head. He puthis hand to his forehead and saw that it was dripping with a warmfluid. He then put his fingers into his mouth and tasted and knew thatit was blood. Then full consciousness surged into his throbbing headand he remembered. 

There was no animate sound in the room and a terrible forebodingchilled his heart. He listened for his wife's breathing, but no suchsound reached his ears. 

"Mary, " he called in a whisper, "are you here?" But there was only theticking of the clock and the hum of the kettle. 

With an unspeakable fear he sprang to his feet, throwing off allcaution and cried, "Mary, " in a loud voice, but with no better results. 

Then with a trembling hand he struck a match and by its feeble lightsaw his wife lying on the floor like one dead. Kneeling beside her hefelt her pulse. It fluttered feebly and he knew she had only swooned. A dash of cold water soon revived her and she sat up and lookedbewilderingly about. 

There upon the floor lay the door with the shattered jamb beside it andin front of the stove was a bright pool of blood, but no bear wasvisible. Then the match went out and they were again in darkness. 

Suddenly, with a paroxysm of fear, the woman sprang forward andclutched in the darkness for the cradle; then with a wild, pitiful, heartbroken cry, she fell to the floor. 

"Mary, Mary, what is the matter?" cried the bewildered husband, tryingwith trembling fingers to strike another match. 

A moment it sputtered and then burned bright, and by the fitful lightthe man beheld that which turned his blood to ice and his heart tostone. The cradle was empty, and the baby was gone. 

CHAPTER II

THE CHASE

When the sudden gust of wind from the open door blew out the light andleft the room in darkness, the great she-bear was not as muchinconvenienced as one might imagine, for the bear is something of aprowler at night, doing much thieving and hunting when the darknessscreens its deeds, as he has a very good pair of night-eyes. 

Being thus left in darkness, the great brute stepped gingerly about, taking care not to tread upon the two prostrate forms on the floor, until she came to the cradle. There she stooped and investigated, passing her tongue caressingly over the little sleeper's face. Thenwith her great clumsy paws she drew the blanket in which the baby hadbeen wrapped about the sleeping child, and taking the loose ends in herteeth, swung it clear of the cradle and held it as though in a hammock. 

Still standing erect, the bear edged carefully to the doorway, but onceon the piazza, where she felt sure that the way was clear, she droppedon all fours, and started for the woods at a clumsy, shuffling trot. But clumsy as the gait was, it took her over the ground rapidly, andshe was soon far into the forest. 

The heartbroken mother, after being brought back to consciousness, could only sit and wring her hands and moan, "O John, John, my baby, mydarling, I shall never see it again. "

For a few moments the strong young man sat as though stunned by thesuddenness of the blow. His brawny arms were nerveless; the heart hadgone out of him, leaving him helpless as a little child. But presentlyhis strong manhood asserted itself, and a bright glitter came into hiskeen, gray eyes. 

"Mary, " he said, almost roughly, "stop taking on so and listen to me. I am going after our child and with God's help I will bring him back. "The realization of the hopelessness of it all nearly choked him, but hehad to say something to quiet the look of misery and terror in hiswife's eyes. 

"I want you to stay right here until I come back. I am a strong manand a good shot and no harm will come to me. No matter how long I amgone, or how lonely you get, you are not to stir from the house. Doyou hear?"

The young mother looked at him in a dazed manner as though she but halfcomprehended, but at last a look of understanding and eagerness cameinto her eyes. 

"I am going too, " she said. 

The man had foreseen and feared this and had tried to forestall it. 

"No, " he said, roughly, "you cannot go. Stay right in this room untilI return. "

As he spoke he took down an old double-barreled gun, and drawing theshot in one barrel, rammed home a Minie ball that just fitted the bore. This was a rude makeshift for a rifle, but it was the best he could do. 

Hastily slipping on his overcoat and cap, and tenderly kissing hiswife, he passed out into the darkness, on his hazardous and almosthopeless mission. But before taking the trail, he went to the shed andaroused an old hound who was sleeping upon a door-mat inside. 

"Here, Hecla, " he called. "Come along. You may be of some help to meto-night. "

Then tying a long piece of rope to the hound's collar, that she mightnot follow too fast, he said, "Here, Hecla, good dog, " indicating thebeast's track in the snow. "Sic, Si-c-c-c-c. "

As the strong bear scent fumed into the old hound's nostrils, the hairrose upon her neck and she stood uncertain. 

"Si-c-c-c-c, " repeated the man sternly. 

Reluctantly the hound took the trail, the man following close behind. Across the mowing and into the pasture, and straight for the deepwoods, the track led. 

The man groaned as he thought of the hopelessness of his task;--tofollow a full-grown bear into the deep woods at night, and recoversafely from its clutches a little child. 

This was his only hope, though, so setting his teeth, and rememberingthe pale face of his wife, the terror in her eyes, and his promise tobring their boy back safely, he kept on swiftly and bravely. 

Fifteen minutes brought man and dog to the woods, and withouthesitation they plunged into its depths. It was not so easy going hereas it had been in the open. The rope was always getting tangled in theunderbrush, and a stop every few minutes to unloose it had to be made. 

Sometimes the man plunged up to his waist in the snow where it lay deepin some hollow. Sometimes it was a dead limb lying across his paththat sent him sprawling. Occasionally the underbrush lashed his faceand tore his skin. But these were little things. Somewhere in theinterminable woods a great brute of a bear was perhaps at this verymoment--he dared not finish the thought, he could only groan. 

For half an hour they floundered forward, now slipping and sliding, andnow falling, but always up and on again. 

At last, when the man was almost winded, and his breath was coming inquick gasps, a faint, far-off cry floated down to him through theghostly aisles of the naked wind-swept forest. At first it was sofaint as to be almost unintelligible, but as they pressed on, it grewlouder and clearer, until the man recognized the pitiful wailing of ababy. 

"Thank God!" he gasped, "my boy is still alive. "

By this time the old hound had fairly warmed up to the chase and wastugging on the rope and whining eagerly. 

To let the dog go on now might frighten the bear and thus defeat thewhole undertaking, so the man tied her to a sapling, and, bidding herkeep quiet, crept cautiously forward. 

A hundred feet farther on, the cries from the child grew louder. Amoment more and he caught sight of the bear leaning up against a largebeech, holding the baby in her strong arms. 

To the agonized father's great surprise the bear's attitude lookedalmost maternal; she seemed indeed to be trying in her brute way tosoothe the infant. She caressed its face with her nose, and lapped itwith her long, soft red tongue. If it had been one of her own cubs shecould not have shown more concern. 

So much the frantic father noted, while he stood irresolute, uncertainwhat to do next. The bear would have been an easy shot by daylight, ifthere had been no baby to consider. But there was that little bundleof humanity, the man's own flesh and blood, and a bullet in order topierce the bear's heart must strike within a few inches of the baby'shead. The task that King Gessler set William Tell, was child's playcompared with this. To shoot might mean to kill his own child, and notto shoot might mean a still more terrible death for the infant. 

The child's wails now grew louder and more frequent. The old bearbecame uneasy; in another moment she might flee farther into the woods, or worse than that, might silence the little one with a blow or acrunch of her powerful jaws. 

The desperate man raised his gun. The fitful moonlight shimmered anddanced upon the barrel, and the shadows from the tree-tops alternatedwith the dancing moonbeams. He could see the sight but dimly and, added to all this, was the thought that the gun was not a rifle, withan accurate bullet, but an old shotgun loaded with a Minie ball. 

At first, his arms shook so that he could not hold the gun steady, butby a mighty effort he nerved himself. For a second the moon favoredhim; a moment the sight glinted just in front of the bear's leftshoulder, frightfully close to his child's head, and then he pressedthe trigger. 

A bright flame leaped from the muzzle of the old gun; its roarresounded frightfully through the aisles of the naked woods, and itslast echo was followed by the startled cry of the infant. 

Dropping the gun in the snow, the man bounded forward, drawing a longknife from his belt as he ran. Four or five frantic bounds carried himto the foot of the beech, where the bear had stood when he fired. 

There in the snow lay the enormous black form, and close beside it in asnowdrift, still nicely wrapped in its blanket, was the child, apparently without a scratch upon it. 

CHAPTER III

A WILDERNESS BABY

When the young farmer beheld the great hulk of the black bear lyingmotionless at the foot of the beech, and saw his child lying unharmedin the snow, his eye, that had been so keen at the moment of peril, grew dim and his senses swam, like one upon a high pinnacle, about tofall. 

But it was only for a second. His strong nerves soon restored him, andhe stooped and picked up the baby, although he was so blinded with gladtears that he had to grope for the precious bundle. 

What a miracle it was, he thought; only the watchful care of a specialProvidence could have steadied his hand for that desperate shot. Themore he considered, the more miraculous it seemed, and with a heartwelling up with praise and gratitude, he silently thanked God for thedeliverance, then woke the leafless forest with a glad, "Halloo. "

This was intended for the old hound, and she at once responded with aquick succession of joyous barks. 

The man had been a little uncertain of the direction home, as he hadfollowed the trail feverishly, but the dog's greeting at once set himright. Shielding the baby in his arms, and picking out as good footingas he could in the uncertain light, he made all haste back to hisfaithful canine, whose whines and barks guided him from time to time. 

"It's all right, Hecla, old girl, I've got him, " he cried as soon as hecame within speaking distance of the dog. The father's joy was sogreat that he had to impart it to some one. 

He lost no time in untying the dog and with her as a guide they wereable to follow the homeward trail through the darkest places in safety. He must make all possible haste, for he remembered the look of muteagony in his wife's eyes, as she stood at the door watching hisdeparture. 

"Home, home, Hecla!" he cried, each time they plunged into deeper gloomthan usual. "We must hurry. "

But the good dog needed no urging. Out and in, unerringly, she ledhim, until the open pasture lot was reached. 

Then with a glad bark she bounded over the stone wall and startedacross the fields at a pace that her master could not keep. He did notcall her back, for he felt sure that she could impart the glad news toher mistress before his coming, and anything to relieve the suspense athome was desirable. 

While the two had been floundering through the deep woods upon theirseemingly hopeless quest, the grief-stricken mother had paced thekitchen floor, wringing her hands and moaning. Occasionally, as themoments dragged slowly by, she would go to the piazza and listen untilit seemed that her ear-drums would burst with the intensity of hereffort, but only the moaning of the wind, and the usual night soundscame to her ears. 

At last, in one of these anxious periods of listening, she thought shedetected the barking of old Hecla, but was not certain. Perhaps it wasonly the wind playing pranks upon her overwrought nerves, or thehooting of an owl. 

She waited expectantly and a few seconds later, hearing the old hound'sglad bark as she bounded over the wall between the pasture and themowing, knew that John had sent her with a message for the mistress ofClover-hill Farm. There was something in the dog's bark that put hopeinto her heart, and she ran to meet her. 

"Hecla, Hecla, old friend, what is it?" cried the mother, as thefaithful canine, panting from the hard run, capered breathlessly abouther mistress, wagging her tail and quivering with excitement. 

"Can't you tell me, Hecla? Is my baby safe?"

For answer the dog gave several glad barks, and barking and capering, plainly invited her mistress to follow her and see that she broughtgood news. 

The mother, whose arms seemed so empty, was only too glad to do this. It had only been because of her husband's stern command and for fearthat her presence might defeat the enterprise, that she had stayed athome at all. 

With the trained sight of a woodsman, John saw them coming long beforehis wife saw him, and he hallooed to them at the top of his voice. 

"It's all right, mother, " he cried, "I've got little John. "

A few seconds later he placed the baby in its mother's arms and sankdown in the snow exhausted from his long, hard run. 

When he had recovered his breath and had gasped out a few words ofexplanation, all hurried back to the farmhouse, the old dog leading theway. 

In half an hour's time the cozy kitchen was righted. The door had beenrehung and the accustomed warmth and good cheer had returned to theroom, where the kettle hummed and the clock ticked just as thoughnothing had happened. 

But to the young couple, who sat by the fireside talking it over, thatlast half hour seemed like a nightmare. 

The following morning, when the first faint streak of daylight waswhitening the east, the young farmer and his faithful dog again tookthe trail for the woods. 

How different was their going now, from that of the night before!Then, an awful fear had gripped the man's heart, and the sympatheticdog had felt her master's misery; but now, the man's step was quick andjoyous, and the dog bounded about him with barks of delight. 

The tracks made the night before were still quite plain, and they sooncame to the beech where the bear had stood when the hair-raising shotwas made. There lay the great carcass in the snow just as it had thenight before. 

The coat was long and glossy, of a deep black on the outside, andrather lighter on the under side. Her forearms were strong and herclaws were most ample. Her jaw was massive, and altogether she was abeast that one would not care for a close acquaintance with, especiallyif she thought her young were in danger. 

It was useless to think of moving the prize without a team, so theexultant farmer went home for a horse and a sled, and in half an hour'stime the huge bear was lying upon the porch of the farmhouse. 

News of the startling event spread rapidly and half a dozen neighborsgathered to see the bear weighed. To the astonishment of all, shetipped the beam at three hundred pounds, which is a few pounds short ofthe record for the largest she-bear ever weighed. 

Two of the neighbors helped remove the fine skin and received somebear-steak in return for their labor. 

Late in the afternoon, the now famous hunter again shouldered his gunand set off for the woods, followed by old Hecla. He was not satisfiedin his own mind, that they had found out all there was to know aboutthe strange appearance of the bear at the farmhouse. If there shouldbe more "goods in the case, " as he expressed it, so much the better;but if not, he would keep his own counsel and no one would suspect thathe had been upon a second bear-hunt. 

He went directly to the tree where the dead bear had lain, and examinedthe snow carefully. He soon found a well-defined trail that ledfarther back into the woods. This he followed easily, and it broughthim to an old fallen hemlock, which was partly covered with snow. Thetracks led into the deepest, thickest portion of the top and thereended at the mouth of a burrow that had been tunneled down underneath. 

The hunter got a long pole and prodded about in the tree-top until hesatisfied himself that there was nothing formidable inside. Thensetting his gun against a tree trunk, he crawled into the burrow. 

He had entered only three or four feet, when a weak, pitiful whinegreeted his ears. "Just as I thought, " he muttered. "There are cubshere. "

A few feet farther down he found them, --two astonishingly smallbear-cubs. One whined pitifully and struggled to his feet as though inanticipation of supper, but the other was cold and stiff. It hadevidently been dead for some time. 

The excited bear-hunter took them both in his arms and clambered out ofthe den, feeling well repaid for his search. 

Holding the cub that was still alive under his coat for warmth andprotection from the wind, he hurried home, while the hound leaped abouthim and sniffed suspiciously at his coat. 

His wife was sitting in the cozy kitchen sewing, and occasionallyjogging the cradle, when he entered and, without a word of explanation, dropped the live cub in her lap. 

"O John, " she cried, "what a dear little dog he is. Where did you gethim?"

"Under an old tree-top in the woods, " he replied. "It isn't a puppy, it is a bear-cub. 

"Here is his brother, " and he held up the dead cub for her inspection. "I guess the old bear came round and stole your baby to take the placeof her dead cub. There are tracks behind the house where she came upto the window and stood upon her hind legs and looked in. Sort oftaking inventory, as you might say. "

The woman went to the north kitchen window and to her greatastonishment saw that her husband had not been joking. There werebear-tracks, and also two large paw-prints upon the window-sill thattold of a silent watcher of their domestic fireside. 

A box was brought from the wood-shed and lined with an old blanket, andmilk was warmed for the little wilderness baby, that had found its wayso strangely into the farmhouse. 

It was ravenously hungry and the man held it, while the wife pouredwarm milk, a few drops at a time, into its mouth. At first the processwas rather laborious, but after a few hours the young bear would gulpdown the warm milk gladly. 

Thus the bear-cub began his life at the farmhouse, lying in a warm boxbehind the stove and drinking milk from a saucer. Most of his days andnights he spent in sleeping, as is the wont of young animals, and thiswas nature's sure way of making him strong and sleek. 

The following Saturday the farmer went to town, where he was muchlionized as a bear-hunter and the whole story had to be told over andover to each one he met. That night at the supper-table he remarked tohis wife that he had seen Dave Holcome, a famous trapper andbear-hunter in his day, and had asked him what he thought about thebear's stealing the baby. 

"What did he say?" inquired the wife, all interest. 

"Wal, " drawled her husband, in exact imitation of Dave, "bars aredurned curus critters, almost as curus as women. You can hunt and trap'um all your life an' think you know all about 'um, then along willcome a bar that will teach you difrunt. There ain't no use in makin'rules about bar ettyket, cuz ef you do, some miserable pig-headed barwill break 'um all ter smash, jest like this 'ere one did. But I thinkthere is a good deal surer way uv accountin' for the critter's actionthan what you say. It's my idee that he mistook the baby for a youngpig. "

"The wretch, " exclaimed the indignant wife, but her husband onlylaughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. 

"You didn't get any mail, did you?" she asked, when his mirth hadsubsided. 

"Yes, I did, " he answered. "Here is a letter. I had forgotten allabout it. " The letter proved to be from a town thirty or forty milesto the north, and was as follows:

"DEAR SIR: I have been much interested in reading in our local paperthe account of a strange visitor that you had at your house early inthe week. I think I may be able to shed some light on thatextraordinary event. 

"About eight years ago I secured a bear-cub when it was still small andbrought it up in my household. There was at the same time in my familya baby to which the cub became much attached. No dog was ever moredevoted to a child, than was the bear-cub as the two grew up together. They were constant companions and were inseparable. 

"Finally the bear became so strong a partisan of the child that she wasreally jealous of the rest of the family. She seemed to think that thechild belonged to her. The second summer on several occasions the twostrayed far from home. The bear seemed to like to toll the child away, where she could have it all to herself. 

"One day when the boy refused to follow where its shaggy companion led, the bear fastened her teeth in the man-cub's clothes and carried hersmall master, kicking and protesting, to the woods, where both werefound some hours later. 

"I interfered at this point and shipped the bear away to a summerhotel, where they wanted something to amuse the visitors. She soontired of the company and escaped to the wild. 

"Now I am confident that our old Blackie and your bear are one and thesame, but the matter is easily settled. Our bear had lost a toe on herleft hind leg, the consequence of getting in front of the mowingmachine in the tall grass when she was small. Please examine yourspecimen in this particular and let me hear from you. "

"The riddle is solved, " exclaimed the husband excitedly tossing theletter across the table to his wife. "I noticed the missing toe when Iremoved the skin. It is a great relief to have the matter cleared up. "

CHAPTER IV

THE CUBHOOD OF BLACK BRUIN

For several weeks the furry, fuzzy little bear in the box behind thekitchen stove did little but drink milk and sleep. If he did crawl outof his box on to the floor, it was simply to investigate thesurroundings, and he would go about the room, poking his nose into allthe corners, and sniffing suspiciously. 

But by degrees as he grew stronger and sturdier he evinced muchcuriosity, playfulness and drollery, and to these characteristics wouldhave to be added, when he became partly grown, a kind of bear sense ofhumor which was quite ludicrous. 

His first playfellow was the pillow which he tumbled off the sofa oneday. Having discovered that it was detachable, he always made for itas soon as the spirit of play seized him. He would toss and tumble itabout, now standing it upon end and batting it over with his paw andthen rolling it over and over on the floor. 

The second object in the room that claimed his lasting attention waspussy, but she was much more animated than the sofa-pillow. The firsttime that the fuzzy little cub went up and smelted of her, she gave hima savage cuff on the nose, which sent him whining to his box, and hedid not seek further acquaintance with pussy for several days. 

He would stand and look at her for five minutes at a time. This madethe cat very uneasy, and she would go about from place to place, tryingto get away from those small, bright, inquiring eyes. At last the cubagain got up courage to sniff at the old cat, and this time she did notcuff him. 

As long as he was respectful, she did not mind him, but when he got tooplayful or subjected her to indignities, pussy retaliated with thatsharp cuff on the nose, which always had the desired effect. 

Black Bruin, or Whiney, as he was sometimes called when he was a smallcub, soon learned to make his wants known. When he wished either milkor water, he would set up the most comical little whine, which wasalways effectual in getting it for him. One day he was given a saucerwhich had a little maple syrup in it, and his delight knew no bounds. After that he whined so long and frequently for syrup that he receivedhis nickname of Whiney. 

In the cool April evenings as they sat about the fire, the master wouldoften lift the small bear upon his knee, and let him sniff about hisclothing, and lick his hand with his long, narrow red tongue. Then hewould roll and tumble him about and Black Bruin would make believe tobite at his master and chew at his sleeves. Finally, these eveningromps got to be a regular part of the farm-life, as much enjoyed by themaster, as by the cub. 

When May came, and it was warmer, so that the doors leading to thewood-shed and the porch were left open, the little bear's world grewapace. Before, his horizon had been the four walls of the kitchen; nowhe could go and come as he pleased, about the yard and in theoutbuildings. 

He made the acquaintance of Hecla, the old hound, while he was still aprisoner in the kitchen, but they came to know each other better whenthe cub got out of doors. At first, the dog was inclined to attack thesmall bundle of bear-meat, but her master calmed her anger, andexplained to her, as best he could, that Black Bruin was one of thefamily and should be treated with respect and consideration. Sofinally she became reconciled to his presence, but she never could getover his scent, which always filled her with suspicion. 

When the cub got out of doors where he could run about and exercise, hebegan to grow very rapidly in stature. Before, he had been a footballor a bundle of fur, but now he began to put on the semblance of a bear. 

He also developed a great genius for mischief. If I should tell of allthe things he overturned or upset, this chapter would be endless. 

A naturalist, who has reared several bear-cubs, says, "If you have anenemy, give him a bear-cub. His punishment will be adequate, no matterwhat his offense. " But the young farmer and his wife did not think so, and as for the baby who was now learning to walk, "Bar-Bar, " as hecalled the young bruin, was a never-ending source of delight. 

He would bury his wee hands in the fuzzy hair of the cub and pull withall his might, and the cub would growl with make-believe fury, but itseemed to know that the baby did not intend to hurt it, and did notoffer to bite. When the baby pulled its ears too hard, it would simplyrun away. 

Outside, in the farmyard, among the chickens, turkeys, ducks, andgeese, at first the cub was rather shy, for the gobbler turkey, thegander and the rooster all set upon him and drove him whining into thewoodshed; but he soon learned that all were afraid of his paws, when hestood upon his hind legs and really hit out with them, so after thatdiscovery, he was master of all the feathered folk about the farmhouse. 

All about the farm-buildings the little bear followed his master. Butbest of all he liked to go to the stable and watch the milking, for inone corner was a small dish, into which he knew a pint of warm milkwould be poured as soon as milking was done. 

One morning the farmer heard a great noise in the hen-house. The henswere kedacuting for dear life and he hastened to the scene of thedisturbance. What he discovered was both ludicrous and annoying, forthere by one of the nests was his small bear in the act of pawing outan egg, while the empty shell of another upon the ground told only tooplainly that he had discovered the use of eggs. 

After that the hen-house was never quite safe from him. Whenever hewas caught inside, he was punished, but hens' nests that he foundout-of-doors were considered his natural plunder. 

June came, and the latter part of the month the bear-shadow followedits master into the hayfield. Here it made a discovery that was muchto its liking. 

The bear was sniffing about as usual, poking his nose into all theholes and bushes, when a low humming in the grass near by caught hisear. 

It was a sound that has made bears smile ever since the first bearlicked up his first taste of honey. So Black Bruin crept cautiouslyforward to investigate. As he advanced, the humming grew louder andpresently a small fury darted out at him. 

It was not much larger than a fly, but it gave him such a pin-prick inthe nose that he was angry, and so struck it down into the grass, andcrushed the life out of it with his swift paw. Then he crept closer tothe humming and buzzing, which was now quite ominous. Soon more of thelittle furies came buzzing out, all of which he killed as he had thefirst. 

When the bee-hunter had crushed the dozen bees comprising the nest, hedug down to the secret hidden in the roots of the grass and found thatit was much sweeter than the maple syrup which they had given him atthe farmhouse. The nest was also full of white eggs or grubs whichwere quite palatable. After that day, Black Bruin was a persistenthunter for bumblebees' nests. 

From the bumblebees' nest to the hives of the honeybees in the orchardback of the house was a very natural step, but the farmer had notdreamed that the bear would discover the secret of the small whitehouses. 

One afternoon he heard a great humming of the bees in the orchard, and, thinking they were swarming, put on his bee-veil and went toinvestigate. The sight that met his eyes filled him with both mirthand wrath. There upon the ground was one of the hives overturned andpulled apart. Many of the partly filled sections were thus exposed, while others were empty of both comb and honey. 

The thief, who was none other than Black Bruin, was holding up asection between his paws, while with his supple red tongue he lickedout the contents. Although the bees were swarming about him in a blackcloud and doing their best to punish the thief, he paid littleattention to them but licked away for dear life. 

Upon his droll countenance was a look of such supreme delight, that theangry farmer ended by laughing heartily; but after that experience hesurrounded the beehives with a stout barbed wire fence. 

About the middle of July, or perhaps a little later, a neighbor'schildren took Black Bruin to the blueberry lot. 

They had often romped and played with him, and he was glad to go, although he could not be coaxed to follow a stranger. He shuffledalong in his droll bear manner, often stopping to sniff under a stoneor in some corner, where his wild instinct told him that there might besomething interesting. 

Arrived at the berry-field, the children began picking and for a timeBruin sat upon his haunches and watched them, his red tongue lollingout, for it was a hot mid-summer day. 

Finally, one of the children picked a handful of berries and offeredthem to their four-footed companion, thinking it would be a good jokeupon him. To their surprise, he not only lapped up the berries withkeen satisfaction, but asked in plain bear language for more. 

He was so much pleased with the flavor of the new food that he finallyput his long red tongue into their pails, and they had to box his earsseverely. Then he went and sat down a little way off, seemingly muchabused. 

Soon the children heard a noise in a bush near by, as if some one waspicking, so they went to investigate. They found Black Bruin standingupon his hind legs, while with both paws and his long tongue he scoopedthe blueberries into his wide-open mouth. He was bending and thrashingthe bush about to get it where he wanted it, and did not see that hewas observed. Upon his droll bear face was written deep delight, foranother of earth's riches had yielded to his inquisitive nose and paws. 

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

Blackberries he managed in the same manner, but when the thorns prickedhis tongue, he would growl and look astonished, as much as to say, "Nowwhat 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 logand 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 antsscampered 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 whenhe had turned over a larger log than usual, he was astonished to see atiny four-footed creature run squeaking out. Black Bruin hoppedclumsily after the field-mouse. Pat, pat went his heavy paws, but themouse ran this way and that, dodging and squeaking, and several timeshe missed, although by this time he was quite expert with his paws. Finally he landed fairly upon the poor mouse, and its life was crushedout. Then he swooped it into his hungry mouth, and found it muchbetter than grubs and ants. After that, whenever a mouse ran out fromunder a log or stone that he overturned, he made a desperate effort toget it. 

One day while sniffing about a hollow log, as was his wont, the beardiscovered still a new scent that was neither grubs, ants norfield-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 asmall striped animal, several times larger than the field-mouse, ranbetween his legs and scurried away in the grass. Although muchastonished, the bear hurried in hot pursuit. This little creature, like the mouse, ran hither and thither, dodging and twisting. Finallyafter several misses, he landed his paw squarely upon it and the hunterhad bagged his first chipmunk. 

[Illustration: The Bear Hurried in Hot Pursuit]

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

Finally the summer passed and the autumn came, and the bear-cubfollowed the children to the woods for chestnuts, beech-nuts andwalnuts. 

He, too, learned the secret of the sweet meat under the hard exterior. Beechnuts he would discover and eat by himself, but walnuts andbutternuts he could not crack, and as for chestnuts, he wanted themtaken out of their prickly jackets before he could eat them. Here inthe deep woods the bear also discovered several roots which were to hisliking, so he was always nosing about in the dead leaves, for if hedidn't find nuts, he would find roots. 

Thus passed the cubhood of Black Bruin, and, from a fuzzy mite, whiningfor his saucer of milk, he grew into a sturdy cub, strong andself-reliant, able to forage and hunt for himself. 

Without training from any parent, he learned some of the things that itwas necessary for him to know in the fields and forest. Thus theinstinct of his bear ancestors asserted its power in the pampered andspoiled pet of the farmhouse, and if he had chosen, he could probablyhave taken care of himself as a real wild bear. But he did not care todo so, although he had every chance to run away; there was somethingalways 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 alwaysfound him back at the house, begging for milk, and taking caresses atthe farmer's hands. 

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

CHAPTER V

A ROLLICKING ROGUE

About Thanksgiving time Black Bruin suddenly disappeared, and althoughthe 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 andreturned to the woods. He had no doubt that he was snugly curled up insome hollow tree where he would sleep away the winter months. Whetherhe would ever return to them or not, was a matter of conjecture. 

All the family mourned his loss, especially the baby, who cried half aday 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, andafter listening for some time, was sure of it. His first thought wasthat some neighbor's dog had gone under the barn to sleep, so he wentand 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 couldstill hear the breathing and was much mystified by it, so he got alantern and went under the barn to settle his doubts. 

To his great astonishment he found Black Bruin curled up in one corner, nearly covered with old hay that he had scraped together for thepurpose. 

He was very sleepy, and only grunted when the man touched him with hisfoot and spoke to him. As he seemed well content with the winterquarters that he had selected, the man left him and went back to hischores. 

Not until the middle of March did he again appear, although differentmembers of the family often went to the trap-door and called for him tocome out. He seemed to be obeying a strongly rooted habit in the bearnature, and he doubtless knew what was best for a sturdy cub likehimself. 

One warm March morning the mistress thought she heard some one in theback room, and supposing that a neighbor had come in, opened the door. 

The intruder was no stranger to the family, for there was Black Bruin, standing on his hind legs, licking off the sticky outside of amaple-syrup pail. He had remembered his old delight in syrup. 

Perhaps he had even got a whiff of the sweet on the spring air, and hisnose had told him what was going on. The bear's scent is very keen, and this and his acute hearing make up for his poor eyesight. 

Black Bruin, on his reappearance, was at once taken back into thefamily's affection, and petted and spoiled, all of which seemed to suithim admirably. 

For a week or two, however, he would eat very little, and appeared tocome to his appetite gradually. At first the good people thought hewas sick, but an old woodsman explained to them that the bear wasalways fastidious after hibernation. In the wild state he will eatonly buds and grasses, and perhaps a very few roots. He is wise, afterthe way of the wild beasts, and knows that his digestive organs are notin condition to do hard work; but when the right hour comes, he willhave a meal that will make up for much fasting. 

The roguishness and capacity for mischief that Black Bruin had shownduring his first year of cubhood, increased tenfold, as he grew olderand stronger. 

Tree-climbing, which he had learned late in the summer of his firstyear, became a passion with him. He climbed the elms and the maplesalong the road and the fruit trees in the orchard. In the barn, too, he clambered about on the scaffolds and pried into all the corners withhis inquisitive nose. 

A neighbor's boy often came to the farmhouse to romp and wrestle withthe bear-cub. Nothing pleased him more than a rough-and-tumble, and hewas quite an expert wrestler, once he learned how to floor hisadversary. 

Whenever two or three boys came into the farmyard, if Black Bruin wasanywhere about, he would shuffle up to them and rearing upon his hindlegs, invite them, in the plainest language, "to come on. "

His master also taught him to hold a broom in his arms in imitation ofa gun, and march up and down like a soldier. When this feat wasperformed by their shaggy friend, the children would shout withdelight, at which the cub would loll out his tongue and seem greatlypleased. He appeared to understand clearly that they thought him thesmartest bear in the world. 

His old trick of hunting for hens' nests now recurred to him, and hereturned to it with renewed zest. In fact, Black Bruin seemed not toforget any of his many forms of mischief, but rapidly acquired new onesas well. 

He not only hunted hens' nests outside, but frequently broke into thehen-house, just like any other chicken thief, and ate eggs freely. 

He always skulked into a corner when caught and seemed to expect thethrashing that he got for such thieving. 

He followed the farm-hands into the hay-field, as he had done the yearbefore, to look for bumblebees' nests, but he was not content withlawful plunder. 

One day the haymakers took their dinner to a distant field where theyexpected to spend the day. All went well until the dinner-hour came, when it was discovered that Black Bruin had tipped over the coffee jug, pulled out the cork, and probably licked up the sweetened fluid. Hehad also opened the dinner-basket, and only a few crumbs and somepickles remained of what would have been dinner for three men. 

To add insult to injury, the vagabond was lying asleep upon thefarmer's coat which he had thrown upon the ground, having a fine napafter his hearty meal. 

There was nothing to do but for all hands to go back to the farmhousefor dinner. 

The farmer had surrounded his beehives with a strong, high, barbed wirefence, and had thought them quite safe even from the prying curiosityof his bear-cub, but one day he found out differently. 

On hearing a great humming about the hives, as though the bees wereswarming, he went to investigate. There in the midst of the hives wasthe old honey thief. He had dug a hole in the ground and had crawledunder the barbed wire fence. Two of the hives were overturned andpulled to pieces, and the contents of half a dozen sections licked out. 

This was almost too much to bear, but the good-natured farmer dug atrench under the fence, and placed another barbed wire lower down, andthe bees were safe for a time. 

Sweet apples and pears were also to Black Bruin's liking. This was allright in itself, but it led to other things. 

One summer morning while the farmer was milking, he was startled byhearing apples coming down in showers from the Golden Sweet tree backof the barn. Thinking that some mischievous boy had climbed the treeand was shaking off apples for sport, he rushed into the back yard, determined to punish the offender severely. 

"Here, you rascal, " he shouted as he neared the tree, "what in theworld are you trying to do?"

The shaking in the tree ceased immediately, but at first the man couldnot locate the truant. Finally he discovered Black Bruin away up inthe top of the tree, where he was well screened by the thick foliage. 

"Come down here, " cried the farmer in considerable wrath. "Come downhere and I'll give you a good drubbing. "

Black Bruin clearly understood from the man's tone that he was angry, so he stayed where he was. 

The man then threw apples at him, but they had no more effect upon theculprit than did the grass upon the bad boy in the fable; so the farmergot a long pole and prodded the apple thief until he whined and camescratching down the tree. 

Black Bruin was very fond of the Golden Sweets, especially when theywere baked, and probably thinking that there were not enough on theground for family use, he had taken matters into his own hands. Heseemed very penitent, however, so the family finally forgave him, asthey had done so many times before. 

When the following week he tried the same tactics upon a winterpear-tree, the consequences were more serious. Black Bruin not onlygot a good drubbing for the prank, but his master secured a dog-collarand chained him to a maple-tree in the yard. 

For a while he pulled and sulked, but finally, seeing that it wasuseless, he yielded to the chain. He would beg so hard, though, to belet loose whenever any one went through the yard, that he was alwaysallowed to be unchained and go free, when the family were about andcould watch him. 

Once the chain and collar, together with the bear's uneasiness, nearlycost the cub's life. He would climb up the tree to which he was tiedas far as the chain would allow him to go, and, while playing variousantics on the lower limbs of the tree, he fell. The chain was on oneside of the limb and he was on the other, where he dangled like aculprit on the gallows. 

He kicked and choked and tried desperately to catch the limb with hisfore-paws, but it was just out of reach and there seemed nothing forhim to do but strangle. 

The tighter the collar grew and the shorter became his breath the morehe kicked and thrashed, until finally the collar broke, and thehalf-strangled bear fell to the ground with a great thud. Feeling thathe had been cruelly treated and insulted, he picked himself up with agroan and a growl, and making for the woods, was not seen again for twodays. 

Finally Black Bruin returned to his friends, having had enough of wildlife for that time. He seemed delighted to see them again and wantedto be petted more than ever, and, as if to make amends for his recentbad behavior, was very good for a couple of weeks. 

One day the farmer took a super of honey from one of the hives in theback yard, and, as a sort of reward of merit, gave Black Bruin a poundfor his share. 

This was an imprudent act upon the part of the bear's master, for honeyto the bear is what whisky is to the drunkard. Not that it intoxicatedhim, but he craved it with an almost insatiate desire. 

This pound was but a taste, so he fell to watching the hives again andperhaps plotting as to how he might get at their contents. But thehives seemed quite safe. They were surrounded by a barbed wire fencesix feet high. They were located under a broad spreading apple-tree, however, and this fact gave Black Bruin his chance. 

He waited until the farmer had gone to a distant field to work, thenclimbed into the tree, and out on a long limb that overhung the hives. 

The limb bent lower and lower until it nearly touched the barbed wirefence, but it was just strong enough for him to make the spring andland in the midst of the hives. 

The good housewife heard the humming and buzzing as the bees swarmedout to punish the intruder, and looking out of the back window, discovered the thief. 

Not much damage had been done, as he had been detected almost at theoutset; but one thing was now certain; the hives would not be safe fromBlack Bruin any longer. 

So the farmer repaired the broken collar and again secured the bear tothe maple, and once more he took up the life of a convict. 

But it must not be imagined that Black Bruin led a very lonely lifeeven upon the chain, for the children frequently took him berrying, orto the deep woods for nuts. 

When the apples had been picked and most of the honey taken from thehives, he was again given the freedom of the place to come and go as hewished. 

But the very worst of all Black Bruin's mischief and thieving cameabout the second week in November, when he had been upon his goodbehavior for several weeks, and the family hoped that he had reformed. 

One night the household was awakened by the most violent and persistentsquealing of a pig. It did not seem to be any of the pigs at the farm, but the sound came from down the road and it steadily drew nearer tothe buildings. 

What it all meant the farmer could not imagine, so he hurriedly dressedand went out-of-doors to find out. 

He was just in time to see Black Bruin come shambling into the yardcarrying a pig, of perhaps twelve pounds' weight, in his mouth. He washolding him by one hind leg and the load was so heavy that the culpritcould barely keep the poor pig's nose from dragging on the ground. 

The farmer at once went to his assistance and rescued him, to the greatdisgust of Black Bruin, who growled and plainly gave his master tounderstand that he considered the pig his own property. He had not gothim out of the home sty, so that his master had no right to interfere. 

Again Black Bruin paid the penalty for misbehavior and was chained up, while next morning, the farmer had the humiliation of carrying the pighome. 

After about a week more of life upon the chain, the culprit slipped hiscollar and disappeared. This time the farmer remembered hisdisappearance of the fall before and finally looked under the barn, where he found him curled up for his winter's sleep. 

CHAPTER VI

THE LIFE OF A DANCING-BEAR

About the first of April, the third year of his adventurous life, asense of something that he craved was borne in upon the deep slumber ofBlack Bruin, or perhaps it was only the returning warmth that awakenedhim. 

In either event he awoke, yawned, stretched himself and turned about inhis nest under the horse-barn. He felt stiff and cramped, as one had aright to, who had been sleeping since about Thanksgiving time. 

Finally he got up, and going to a crack in the cellar wall, sniffed thebreeze, which came in quite freely. This was always his way when hewanted to find out what was going on. His nose was a much surer guidein most matters than his eyesight. 

What the fresh spring wind told him was evidently to his liking, forhis tongue lolled out, his mouth dripped saliva, and he went at once tothe trap-door leading upstairs, and pushed it open with his shoulder. 

In the cozy farmhouse kitchen, an event that fills the heart of theaverage country boy or girl with delight, was in progress. 

Upon the kitchen range was placed a large galvanized iron syrup-pan. In it was three or four inches of golden maple syrup, which danced andsteamed and broke in little mountains of yellow bubbles, something thecolor of sunlight. 

This was the amber toll from the rock-maple, discovered long ago by theIndian, whose primitive methods have been so greatly improved upon bythe white man. But there are still very remote places in Canada, wherethe old-fashioned slash in the tree, into which a wedge is driven, hasnot been superseded by spiles and buckets. 

Several of the neighborhood children were gathered at the farmhousekitchen and jollity ran high. 

Suddenly the door leading to the wood-shed flew open, and there in thedoorway stood Black Bruin. With a shout of delight they rushed uponhim, eager to greet and caress their wilderness pet. 

For a week or two, as usual when coming forth from his long sleep, Black Bruin was rather inactive, and did not want much to eat; but bydegrees his spirits returned, and it was evident from the size andstrength now acquired, that he was to be more of a rogue and botherthan he had ever been before. 

But even his warmest admirers, the neighborhood children, who alwaystook his part, no matter what he did, were not prepared for his nextantic. 

Of course it was impossible for his friends, who had not been sleepingand going without food for several months, to say just how hungry theculprit was, or how strong the blood lust was upon him. 

There had been pig-killing at the farmhouse, and the bear had eatensome of the refuse meat. This had only whetted his appetite for more, so he did some pig-killing on his own account. 

One morning a neighboring farmer, very much excited, rushed into theyard and accused Black Bruin of stealing a small pig that morning fromhis sty. Although the family protested stoutly that he must bemistaken, a search of the premises showed that their pet was missing. 

The bear's master thought best to settle for the pig, but even then theneighbor was much put out, and promised to try the effect of a rifleupon the thief the next time he should appear. 

The marauder did not return to the farmhouse all that day, but cameslinking home late in the evening and went at once to his den in thewood-shed. Again he was chained to the maple in the front yard, andforced to live the life of a prisoner. But he was now getting sostrong that any ordinary collar would not hold, and he soon broke awayand again went upon a foraging expedition. This time his choice wasmutton, and his master had to pay for a pet sheep that he had takenfrom a neighbor's back yard. 

This was getting serious, and the bear's master was thinking ofcorresponding with the keeper of a zoo or menagerie, to see if he couldgive his troublesome pet away, when Pedro Alsandro appeared upon thescene, and the whole tenor of Black Bruin's life was changed. 

Pedro was an Italian peddler, carrying two large packs. He was a smallman with a swarthy olive-colored skin, and dark beady eyes, set rathertoo close together. 

He appeared one warm April morning, and in the usual lingo of his kind, invited the good people at the farmhouse to "buy something. "

When his pack had been overhauled and a few small purchases concluded, the peddler noticed Black Bruin, and he at once took his fancy. Hisgreed was also appealed to by seeing the bear perform his tricks. Pedro had once owned a dancing-bear, but it had run away from him toescape harsh treatment. 

"Why should I lug these heavy packs about, " he thought, "when I couldmake twice the money, merely by leading this bear from town to town?"

So the Italian set to work to gain the confidence of the bear and as hehad had considerable experience with his kind, it was not long beforehe had petted and bribed his way into Black Bruin's good-will. 

"You buy someting me, I buy someting, this bear, " he finally said tothe farmer. 

This proposition was greeted by some neighbors' children with a chorusof wails and the housewife too objected, but to the farmer, who wasmuch perplexed to know what to do with the bear, it seemed like quite aProvidential opening. 

"What you do with him, Pedro?" he asked, for he was as much attached tothe rogue as he would have been to a dog that he had raised frompuppyhood. 

"I make heem one fine dancing-bear, " replied Pedro, "I teach heem lotstreeks. He jes walk long, eat lots, sleep lots, have good time. "

"Will you be good to him, Pedro?" asked the housewife, for she hated tothink of the bear's having any but considerate treatment. 

"Y-e-a-r-r--lady, " replied Pedro. "I feed heem much sugar, much peanutand much banan. He good bar, I keep heem careful and good. "

So Pedro finally left a part of the contents of one of his packs inexchange for the bear, and went upon his way with a lighter pack. Inone hand he held a stout rope, the other end of which was fastened inBlack Bruin's collar. 

The poor bear continually looked back and whined as they went down theroad, but Pedro coaxed and bribed him with sugar, that he had broughtalong for the purpose, until he was out of sight of the house. 

Once beyond the reach of interference upon the part of his recentmaster, the Italian cut a stout heavy stick and sharpened one end, andwith that as a goad, he drove the bear relentlessly before him. Instead of coaxing there were henceforth sharp thrusts with the pointof the stick and savage blows upon the head. 

At first Black Bruin was furious at such treatment, for had he not beenspoiled and petted all his life? He soon saw, however, that this manwas a new and terrible creature to be obeyed instantly, and one whosewrath it was not well to provoke by pulling back or sulking. 

For several hours they journeyed on in this manner, until a smallvillage was reached. Here the peddler disposed of the remaining goodsin his two packs at a country store, and went into business as thekeeper of a dancing-bear. 

That night the two slept in an old barn, curled down in the hay, andnestled closely together for warmth. 

When his deep breathing told the bear that his new master was sleepingsoundly, he crawled carefully out of their nest and tried to slip away. But with a start Pedro awoke and pulled savagely upon his collar, whilewith his stick he prodded him back into his nest. 

Truly this was a strange and terrible creature into whose hands he hadfallen. He knew what was going on when he was asleep, as well as whenhe was awake. There would be no escape from him. The poor brute didnot appreciate the fact that the Italian had tied the loose end of therope about his wrist, so that the slightest tug upon it would awakenhim. 

The following morning, Black Bruin began his labors as bread-winner forboth. At the first farmhouse they came to, Pedro stopped and in hisbroken English, offered to entertain the good country people with hisbear in return for breakfast for both man and beast. 

The offer was promptly accepted and Pedro's companion was made toshoulder his make-believe gun and march up and down. Then he was givenan egg to suck, and he carefully nicked a little piece in one end, andlicked out the delicious contents. This was the trick that he likedbest of all. 

Finally he got down on all fours and was horse for three children forseveral minutes. They would sit astride his back, with their smallhands tightly clasping the bear's long, glossy hair, while Pedro slowlyled him up and down. 

At last the breakfast was set before them and the poor bear, who haddone all the work, was glad of his share of hot biscuit and maple syrup. 

When they were upon the road again, Pedro began teaching the bear newtricks, for the few that he already knew were not enough to satisfy hisnew master, who thought he saw considerable money in him. 

Whenever they came to a tree that was suitable for climbing, he wouldlead Black Bruin up to it, and shout "climb, " at the same timethrusting his pointed stick viciously into the bear's hinder parts. 

At first, the bear remonstrated and growled, but he got such a drubbingand jabbing that he went whining up the tree, and when he would notcome down Pedro threw stones at him, until he was glad to escape themissiles by obeying. 

Much practice of this trick soon made the bear a great tree-climber, and he would scratch up the tree at his best pace, at the slightestsign from the Italian. 

Next Pedro bought a bottle of ginger pop, which he sweetenedconsiderably to make it even more palatable for the bear, and thenslowly turned out a part of the contents for him to lick up. When thishad been done, he put in the cork very slightly and held it up for thebear to lick. Of course the cork soon came out and more of thecontents was spilled for the bear to drink. In this way by degrees hetaught the brute that the cork must first come out and then there wassweet within. 

When the trick was finally mastered, the bear would stand upon his hindlegs, take a bottle of ginger pop from a man's hand, hold it betweenhis paws, pull out the cork with his teeth, and deliberately drink thecontents. 

The performance of this trick got Pedro and the bear all the soda waterand small drinks that they cared for at the country stores and hotels. Occasionally Pedro would push the cork in very tight to tease theperformer, who would sometimes growl and box the bottle with his paw, to the great delight of the children. 

At first the bear did not like beer, but he soon learned, and woulddrink it down the same as any toper. 

Peanuts, pop-corn, corn-cake and candy he also learned to like, and hismanner of eating these delicacies always amused the children. 

Sometimes when he had been doing tricks in a village for hours he wouldget very tired and lie down and sulk, when Pedro would beat and prodhim cruelly. 

If the passers-by remonstrated with the Italian for treating his goodbear in this manner, Pedro would make the excuse for cruelty so oftenheard in Italy, where very little consideration is shown animals. 

"Huh, lady, " he would say, "he no Christian, he just brute. Pedro, Christian, bear, brute, devil. "

Whenever Pedro and his companion entered a village, they were alwaysfollowed by an admiring crowd of children. As many as could, wouldclimb upon Black Bruin's back, and ride in triumph through the street, while dozens, who were less fortunate, followed behind, shoutingapproval. 

Although it was quite a hardship for the bear to carry such a load, yetthe petting of the children was a great pleasure to him in these daysof tribulation. It reminded him of the children at the farmhouse whereevery one had been so good to him. For, brute that he was, he wasstill amenable to kindness, and brutalized by brutality. 

CHAPTER VII

THE VAGABONDS

Pedro and Black Bruin were vagabonds, going up and down the country asthe spirit moved them, living like two tramps without home, shelter orfriends, save as they made them by the way. 

Some nights they slept in haystacks, or in old barns. Sometimes theycrawled into wagon sheds and slept upon loads of grain or produce thathad been gotten ready for the morrow's marketing. More frequently theybivouacked in the open, under the blue canopy of heaven, merelysheltered a little by a friendly spruce or pine, with the silver moonfor a lamp, and the bright stars for candles. The great shaggy beastand the little dark man slept in one bed, as it were. Pedro usuallypillowed his head upon Black Bruin and so the bear had to lie verystill and not disturb his master, for he got a pounding if he did. 

Out here in the open all the night sounds came to them with startlingdistinctness;--the cry of the nighthawk and the chirping of a cricket, the peeping of hylas and the croaking of frogs and the wild, tremulous, mournful cry of the screech-owl. 

The night winds blew upon their faces and the fragrance of thedew-laden flowers was in their nostrils. Theirs was not a cramped, stifling existence, but a full free life, and the sense of living, breathing, growing things was everywhere, and it made them glad. 

The tan of wind and sun was upon Pedro's skin, making it even moreswarthy. 

In the morning, when the first faint gray streak lit the east, androbins and thrushes began to sing, they were up and ready for the day'swork. Their toilet was very simple, --merely a wash and a drink ofwater from some neighboring brook, then they were ready for the road. 

This was just the hour to find all the thrifty farmers' families atbreakfast and it was much easier to get something for themselves whenthe table was spread for others. So Black Bruin danced and wentthrough all his tricks, to the great delight of the children, that bothhe and Pedro might share the farmer's hospitality later. 

When they were unlucky and had to go without breakfast, Pedro blamedhis shaggy companion and swore at him in broken English, or showeredblows upon him with the stout stick which he always carried. 

Black Bruin soon learned to expect the blows and to cower from them andsometimes even whimper, when his master was unusually harsh; but in hisheart, which was that of a wild beast, he was storing up wrath. 

But there was something about the Italian that held him at bay asthough with chains of steel. When Pedro's small glittering eyes wereupon him, his own eyes fell. A kick would send him groveling to earth. In some unexplainable way he felt that this cruel creature was hismaster. He was subdued and held by a terrible grip. 

To the bear the man was always a mystery. There was something fearfulabout him that he could not fathom and his source of strength the poorbeast could not understand. 

There was also an evil-smelling dark bottle in the Italian's insidecoat-pocket, which was an enigma. It was not ginger pop or beer, orany kind of soda water; Black Bruin knew all of these drinks himself, and this drink was like none of them. 

One day Pedro had fallen into a strange deep sleep and the bottle hadslipped from his pocket. The bear had at once noticed it, picked it upand pulled out the cork, just as he would have done with a ginger popbottle, and had taken a small swallow. But the strange stuff hadburned his tongue and choked him. So he spat it out and broke thebottle with a single blow of his powerful paw. He finally licked upconsiderable of the whisky, as it was a hot day and he was thirsty. Ithad made him sleepy, so man and beast had lain down together in adrunken stupor. 

After this day Black Bruin hated the bottle, out of which Pedro drankso frequently. They were also unlucky in getting meals when his masterdid this, for the simple country folk did not like to lodge or feedthem when the dark, sinister-looking man was half drunk. So in manyways the bottle brought them ill-luck. 

When Black Bruin and his companion began their wanderings from town totown, it was early spring-time. The buds were just beginning to reddenupon the sugar-maple and the grass along sunny southern slopes, wasputting on its first faint touch of green. The days were warm andsunny, promising buds and blossoms, but the nights were still clear andcold. 

At first they had to lie close together at night for warmth, or ratherthe man had to cuddle down close to his shaggy warm companion; butspring soon passed and summer came and the two wanderers reveled in thelavish beauty and richness of nature. 

In many of the pastures blueberries grew in profusion and Black Bruinneeded no teaching to get his share of the palatable fruit. Along allthe country roads, growing upon the stone walls and fences, weredelicious red raspberries, which are much finer flavored than thecultivated kinds. Later on, when August laid her golden treasures inthe lap of Mother Earth, the blackberries ripened in wild profusion. First in the open pasture came the low bushberries, and then the highbushberries along the edge of the forest. 

Last of all came autumn with its treasures of harvest, fruits, nuts, melons and grains. 

Wild grapes they found in abundance and all the nut-bearing treesrattled down their treasures for them. The melon-patch, the poundsweeting tree, the peach-orchard and the turnip-field all paid toll tothe vagabonds. So, in spite of harsh treatment and hard work, BlackBruin laid on his usual layers of fat, against the long sleep of thecoming winter. 

What wonderful days these were when they wandered lazily from villageto village, through long stretches of flaming red and golden forest, where the roadway was spread with a most gorgeous leaf-carpet. 

They heard the jay squalling in the corn-field, and the crows gatheringin the clan for their annual caucus. The squirrels chattered in thetrees above them, but their old friends, the song-birds, had nearly allflown away to the South to escape the oncoming winter. 

When Jack Frost and the merry north winds had robbed the trees of thelast of their foliage and they stood out grim and gaunt against thebleak November sky; when the last purple asters and the hardiest brightgoldenrod had faded, Black Bruin felt the old winter drowsiness slowlystealing upon him. 

At last the first snow-storm came and that settled it in both the mindsof Pedro and the bear. So the Italian led his companion far up into awilderness region, and after searching about for half a day among theledges found a natural cave which was about the size of a small room, and here left Black Bruin to sleep away the winter months. 

He stayed in the region just long enough to make sure that the winterdrowsiness had clutched him and also took the precaution to rollagainst the entrance of the cave, a large stone, which he had to movewith a lever, that he might be sure of finding his partner inVagabondia when he returned for him in the early spring. Pedro wouldtake the precaution to come back a few days before the bear wouldnaturally awaken. 

A day or two after Black Bruin was left alone in his cavern a heavystorm set in, and before it ceased, a foot of snow had fallen. 

It was now so deep that the passer-by would never have guessed that abear was soundly sleeping a few feet back of the boulder which Pedrohad placed at the entrance of the cave. This now merely looked like awhite snowdrift that some freak of the wind had piled upon themountainside. 

In the dark and the silence of his underground room Black Bruin sleptthrough the winter blizzards and cold as well as he would have done inwarmer and more comfortable quarters. No sound broke the silence ofhis cave save his own deep breathing. If the sun shone, or the windshowled, or the storms beat, he knew it not. 

Perhaps in dreamland he still wandered up and down the country pickingblueberries or poking under the dead leaves for nuts, and always andforever doing tricks until his legs and back ached. 

As for Pedro, he had no idea of hibernating, so he went away to adistant city and worked for a fellow countryman in a fruit store. 

But work was not to his liking and he longed for spring to come that heand his companion might again be upon the road living the old free life. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE BEAST AND THE MAN

A sense of pain and annoyance penetrated the deep sleep of Black Bruin, and with a growl and a start he awoke. When he had fallen asleep hismountain cavern had been quite dark. It had always been dark when heawoke and stretched himself, but now the full glory of daylight wasstreaming in. 

There before him, dark, sinister and forbidding as ever, stood Pedro, and in his hand was the sharpened stick with which he had been proddinghim, causing him to awaken. 

As Black Bruin arose in response to his blows, he shook himself, andstretched first one cramped leg and then another, which were stiffafter his long sleep. Pedro could not help but notice how he had grownand what a great brute he was getting to be. 

"Holy saints, " he ejaculated, "but he is one pig deevil-bear. I mustclub heem and prod heem much, or he eat me. He em one deevil. "

Black Bruin felt a sense of irritation at the coming of his master andfollowed him sullenly as he led the way out of the winter quarters intothe full day. How sweet and fresh was the air and how bright andbeautiful the world. Then, for the first time, there came an almostoverpowering longing for freedom. He had often felt it slightly, butnow it nearly mastered him and he all but broke into open rebellion. 

The deep woods were calling to him. The wild free life was his byright. He was no dog to be led about upon a chain, and to go and comeat the beck of man. He was a wild beast whose home was the wilderness, and this cruel creature, who tyrannized over him, and prodded him, forwhom he did tricks day after day, had stolen away his freedom. 

Of course Black Bruin did not think these thoughts in just this way. To him they were dim and inexpressible; he only felt a wild rage atbeing restrained and made a captive and a hot desire to be off. 

So it was with this ill-disguised humor that he followed his masterfrom town to town and did his tricks. 

Pedro, on the other hand, felt that the bear was becoming morose andthat his spirit must be broken, so he prodded and beat him until hislife was almost unbearable. 

One evening the two camped near the edge of a spruce woods. Along oneside of the road ran a turbulent stream, which was at the bottom of adeep gorge. At several points one could look down from fifty to onehundred feet to the water, foaming and lashing and rushing upon itsway. For a part of the distance the bank was almost perpendicular, andhere the passer-by was protected from falling into the abyss by arailing that was spiked to posts or convenient trees. 

To-night, Pedro was sleeping soundly, his head pillowed upon his greatcoat, that he carried in the spring and fall against inclement weather. He no longer pillowed his head upon Black Bruin, who was chained to anear-by tree. The beast now also wore a muzzle and this was one moregrievance which he nourished in his heart against the time of vengeance. 

Black Bruin was not asleep, but was watching first his master and thenthe flickering light of their camp-fire. As he watched and pondered, the tyranny of his chain and muzzle grew upon him. The muzzle galledhis nose and the chain was a continual reminder of his slavery. Pedrohad prodded and clubbed him this spring until his body was sore. He nolonger had the slightest spark of affection for the man, but instead afearful hate that burned in his breast like living coals. 

The sound of Pedro's deep breathing also filled him with a terriblerage. It seemed as if he could feel all the prods that he had receivedfrom the stick at once, and each stung him with a new pain. His breathcame thick and hot and his eyes glowed with all the deep intensity ofhate;--hate, that had long smouldered, fed with continual fuel, butalways kept in check, only at last to break out in a conflagration, sweeping all before it. 

At length raging, yet fearful, Black Bruin backed away to the fulllength of his chain and began straining upon it with all his might. Itchoked him until he could no longer breathe. Then he stopped for amoment to recover his breath, and went at the chain again. 

For half an hour he tugged and strained, choking and gagging until atlast the ring in his collar pulled out and he was free from the chain. But he was not free as long as that sleeping demon by the fire stillhad strength to pursue and recapture him. He never would be free untilhe had killed him. 

Next he lay down and began tugging at his muzzle. That too choked himas he pulled upon it, and he nearly strangled in the process ofwrenching it off, but finally the hated thing lay upon the ground, withthe strong wires bent and the strap broken. 

Then Black Bruin crept forward to within three or four feet of wherePedro lay heavily sleeping, and stood there, watching his master. Hefelt sure that with one blow of his paw he could cripple him, but hecould not bring himself to strike that blow. The man might have somenew and terrible hidden power that he knew not of. He had seen him dostrange things and there might be still others that he had not yettried. Could he not make fire out of sticks that really had no warmthin them? There was something fearful about a creature who could dosuch things. 

But one thing was certain;--Pedro would not strike him again. Thegrowing rage in his brute breast made that impossible. 

If he would only move and get up and reach for his stick, then the poorenthralled brute might act. This would be a match to the powder. 

At last Pedro stirred uneasily in his sleep and groaned, and with allthe stealth of a wild beast Black Bruin drew nearer to him. He couldsee drops of sweat upon the man's brow and a tremor shook his body. Was this terrible demon really afraid? If so, Black Bruin himselfwould no longer be afraid, so he drew still nearer and stood over hismaster. 

Then with a yell of terror that echoed through the cavernous woods, Pedro sprang to his feet, while his hand reached for the stiletto thathe always carried. But quick as he was, he was not as quick as thebear, for, with a motion like lightning and a grip like steel, BlackBruin pinioned his arms to his sides and held him as though in the gripof Vulcan. 

"Heii, yii-here, you brute deevil. You let me go I keel you, " shriekedPedro. But the words, that would have made the bear cringe and skulk afew hours before, held no terror for him. He was master now, and thisman who had clubbed and prodded, sworn at, and outraged him, was apigmy in his arms. His powerful jaw too was close to the man's neck. One crunch would make him lifeless. 

Then Pedro, with more ferocity than judgment, began kicking, hoping tofrighten the bear, who had always skulked at his slightest word. Butthe growl of rage with which Black Bruin greeted this move fairly frozethe blood in Pedro's veins, especially when he felt the great brutehalf open his jaws as though to bite through his neck. 

Then Pedro became wise and sought by kind words to persuade the bearinto releasing him. 

"Gude Freetzie, gude beastie. Don't, Freetzie, don't. "

But those platitudes were received as uncompromisingly by Black Bruinas were the kicks. He evidently would have no parleying of any sort. The man had been weighed in the balance and found entirely wanting. 

There was still one very slight hope left, however. If Pedro couldonly reach his stiletto, even with his hands pinioned to his sides, hemight be able to plunge it into the brute's side down low and inflict awound that would cause the bear to loose his hold for a second, when hemight wrench himself free and deliver a second fatal thrust. 

The stiletto was in a sheath and Pedro could just reach the point. Hisonly hope was to work it loose, then with a quick motion jump it out, and catch it as it fell. It was a desperate chance, but all that wasleft to him. 

His slightest movement brought blood-curdling growls from Black Bruin, who evidently did not intend to take any chances with him. 

At the same instant that Pedro began reaching for his stiletto, BlackBruin started marching him up the road into the woods. Where he wastaking him and what new horror awaited him the Italian could notimagine. 

Inch by inch he carefully worked the stiletto higher and higher in thesheath. Then with a quick upward motion of his hand, he jumped itclear of the leather and clutched for the handle as it fell. But hisfingers barely glazed the steel, the weapon fell to the earth, and hislast hope was gone. 

About fifty feet down the road, Black Bruin wheeled his captive sharplyto the right and taking a few steps in that direction, they stood uponthe brink of the precipice, at the bottom of which was the foaming, dashing, turbulent stream. 

As though to make the horror of the situation even more intense, themoon which had been under a cloud, came out and shone peacefully intothe yawning depths. In the silver moonlight the white foam on thewater looked as soft as wool; but Pedro knew that beneath the froth andfoam were the jagged and hungry rocks that made it. 

There they remained for the space of ten seconds, the dark, cruel, sinister little man, held in the inexorable grip of the great shaggybeast. Each second the crushing arms of the bear tightened and theman's breath came in gasps and sobs. His tongue protruded from hismouth, and his eyes bulged out of their sockets with fear and pain. Blood dripped from his nose and his ribs creaked as the infuriatedbeast slowly crushed him. 

When the figure of his tormentor no longer struggled in his arms, BlackBruin opened his powerful jaws and with a single bite crushed thevertebras of the neck. Then, with a grunt of deep satisfaction, helifted the limp figure in his arms as high as he could, and flung itinto the yawning chasm below. 

He peered over the railing and saw it strike upon the rocks beneath, hang for a moment uncertain and disappear in the dark eddy. 

Then he dropped on all fours and hurried back to camp, where hedemolished everything of Pedro's meagre outfit, not forgetting to tearhis coat to shreds. This done to his evident satisfaction, he obeyedthe call from the deep woods, that had been so insistent in his ear allthat spring and summer, and shuffled away into the gloom. 

The dark plumes of fir and pines sighed, "Come, " and the night windwhispered, "Come, " and the rustling fronds and grasses said, "Come. "All nature welcomed the exile to this, his native wilderness. 

CHAPTER IX

LIFE IN THE WILD

It was with a wild exultant sense of being free that Black Bruinshuffled through the underbrush and entered the deep woods on this, hisfirst night of actual freedom. Some of the native ferocity of his kindcoursed in his veins. Had he not within the hour slain histormentor--the inexplicable creature who had tyrannized over him andbullied and beaten him for more than a year? But mingled with histriumph was a faint sense of fear that caused him to put many milesbetween himself and the deep gorge before he stopped for food or rest. True, he had seen the limp, lifeless figure fall into the abyss andthen disappear in the dark stream. Still, he might come to life insome miraculous way and pursue him. 

It was under most peculiar circumstances that this alien returned tohis native wilderness;--circumstances that we shall have to considerbriefly to understand why so many mishaps befell him during his firstyear of freedom. 

From the first moment that the fuzzy little bear-cubs follow their hugemother from the den into the open world, their lessons of life begin. These lessons are acquired partly through imitation and also throughdesign upon the part of the wise old dam. Nearly all small creaturesare imitative, so, as the old bear did only those things that were forher good, the cubs soon learned by imitation which of the wildcreatures to be upon good terms with and which were to be let alone. 

The cubs always stay with their mother for a year, usually denning upwith her the first fall, and only being deserted when the new cubscome; so it will be seen that this early training and discipline is ofthe greatest importance. Knowledge that is not gained in this way isusually gained by hard knocks. 

At last, being winded and tired with his long flight, Black Bruincrawled into a deep thicket and went to sleep. When he awoke, it wasvery early morning, just the time of day that he and Pedro had been inthe habit of starting on the road. 

No more road for him, but if Black Bruin could not get his breakfast ata farm-house, he must seek it elsewhere, for he was fairly ravenousthis balmy summer morning. 

He remembered his old grub and ant-hunting habit and was soon busyturning over flat stones and pulling to pieces old rotten logs, wherethere was usually good picking. But it took a great many of theselittle crawlers and creepers to satisfy a half-famished bear. 

Finally, Black Bruin scented a chipmunk in a small pile of stones, andhastily began pulling the pile apart to get at the prize. 

Poor Chippy, hearing his house tumbling about his head and seeing hisretreat rapidly cut off, burrowed deeper and deeper in the stone-heap, but finally the monster was almost upon him. When one more stone hadbeen lifted, he would be at the bear's mercy. So, with a frightenedsqueak, Chippy made a break for freedom, hoping to gain a stone wallthat he knew was near by. 

Thump, thump, thump, went the heavy paws all about him as he dodgedhither and thither, uttering a quick succession of terrified squeaks. 

At last one of the great paws fell fairly upon him and his life wascrushed out, while Black Bruin had the keen satisfaction of feelingwarm blood in his mouth. 

This success put new enthusiasm into the hunter and he pulled stonesand logs about for an hour or two in a lively manner. 

He did not find any more chipmunks and was about to give up hunting forthat morning and go in search of water, when a small black and whitecreature with a bushy tail attracted his attention. It was about thesize of a cat but the body scent was not that of a cat. 

Whatever it was, it was small and slow, and could be easily caught andkilled. Whether or not it was good to eat could be determined later, so the hunter hurried after the small black and white creature thatlooked so harmless. 

A few quick shuffles carried Black Bruin alongside the quarry and, within striking distance, his heavy paw went up, but at that moment thewood pussy arched his back and delivered his own best defense full inthe bear's nose and eyes. 

With a loud "ugh, " and a grunt and squeal of pain, Black Bruinretreated into the nearest thicket. 

It seemed as though liquid fire had been dashed in his eyes, and of allthe obnoxious smells that ever disgusted his nostrils, this was theworst. His eyes smarted and burned, and the more he rubbed them theworse they became. 

He was nearly blinded and so had to go groping and stumbling throughthe woods to the nearest brook, to which his wild instinct guided himin some miraculous manner. Here he plunged in his face up to his earsand was slightly relieved. 

For an hour he repeated the operation over and over, plunging his headunder and keeping it there as long as he could hold his breath. 

At last the burning, smarting fluid was partly washed from both eyesand nostrils, and Black Bruin went upon his way a wiser and sorrierbeast. 

It was two or three days before the inflammation entirely left his eyesand his nostrils got back their old sure power of discriminatingbetween the many scents of the forest. 

He had learned his first lesson in the woods, which was that awell-behaved skunk when taking his morning walk, is not to be disturbed. 

After this, whenever Black Bruin even scented a skunk, he kept at adiscreet distance and contented himself with chipmunks and mice. 

One morning he surprised a fox eating a rabbit which it had just caughtin a briar-patch, and made such a sudden rush upon Reynard that he fledin hot haste, leaving the rabbit for the bear. In this way Black Bruinlearned that rabbit was good to eat, even as palatable as squirrel, andafter that he hunted rabbits whenever opportunity offered. 

Sometimes he would find a gray rabbit's hole and with much labor digthe poor rabbit out. More frequently he would watch at the mouth of arabbit-burrow, where he had seen a rabbit enter, until bunnyreappeared, sticking his head out cautiously to reconnoitre, when oneswift stroke of the heavy paw bagged the game. 

It was one day after having watched for several hours at the mouth of arabbit-burrow, that Black Bruin discovered a queer creature, three orfour times the size of a rabbit, walking leisurely along through thewoods, and went in hot pursuit. 

By this time, the experience with the skunk had lost its old terror, and he was again the curious, keen hunter. 

Whatever it was, the newcomer did not seem to be much afraid of him, and that was strange. Most of the wild creatures he knew fled at hisfirst approach, and it was with difficulty that he got near them; butthis queer animal ambled along as slowly as if he had not the slightestconcern. 

He did not look or smell like anything that Black Bruin had everobserved before. The odd thing about him was that he was covered withsmall sharp points sticking out in every direction, which gave him avery bristling appearance. 

As the bear came up, he merely squatted upon the ground and drewhimself into a rotund shape. What a strange creature! Black Bruinreached his nose closer to get a better whiff of the body scent, and ifpossible to discover what the animal was. 

Quick as a flash the porcupine's tail struck upward and three of thelongest, sharpest quills in this queer body were firmly planted in thehunter's nose. 

With a growl of pain and rage the bear dealt this strange enemy acrushing blow. The porcupine's back was broken, but the conquerorcarried off four more quills in his paw. 

[Illustration: BLACK BRUIN DEALT THE PORCUPINE A CRUSHING BLOW]

It was not much like a conqueror that he went, for he limped off onthree legs, and sitting down in a thicket, pulled the quills from hispaw as well as he could; but two were broken off and finally workedthrough the foot, coming out a day or two later on the upper side. 

The paw was so sore that he could not travel on it, and the afflictedbear either went upon three legs, or kept quiet. 

Two of the quills in his lower jaw he got rid of, but one stayed withhim for several days, and finally made its appearance in his cheek, coming out near the ear. 

The experience was a sorry one, and although several days afterwardBlack Bruin saw the dead body of the porcupine lying where he hadcrushed it, he would not go near it. This creature, like the skunk, had a peculiar way of fighting which the bear could not understand, sohe would give the next porcupine that he met the entire road if hewanted it. 

Black Bruin's relations with man had been most peculiar up to the timeof his killing his cruel master and escape into the wild, and they didnot tend to make him wise in regard to this creature, which all normalwild animals shun as their greatest danger. 

He had been brought up in close companionship with men; had slept andate with them for the first three or four years of his life. He hadwrestled with the men cubs and had found in it nothing but sheerdelight. Children and their caresses had been his one pleasure duringthe strenuous year with Pedro. 

Now, suddenly all this relationship toward man was changed. BlackBruin had gone from the pale of civilization into that of savagery. Hewas now a wild beast, feared by men, although without much cause. 

Little by little this new relationship between himself and the manbeast was borne in upon Black Bruin. At first, he shunned men andtheir way, fearing that some man might capture him and again claim himfor the road. The wild, free life made him glad. To be here to-dayand there to-morrow was to his liking, and he did not intend to liveagain upon a chain. 

But that Black Bruin's long companionship with men was a disadvantageto him in his new life was only too apparent, for it led him intoindiscretions, which a normal bear would never have committed. 

In his natural state the bear is a very wary animal, always upon thewatch, even when he is feeding; always and forever testing the windwith both ear and nostril. But with the half-domesticated dancing-bearit was different. In his own mind he had nothing to fear from men. Hehad walked through their villages and along their country roads andseen them by thousands and tens of thousands. They had never harmedhim, and he had no reason to think they ever would. 

One September morning he was digging roots along the edge of the woods. He had found something quite to his liking and was much absorbed, whensuddenly a fresh puff of wind blew the strong body scent of a man fullinto his nostrils. He looked this way and that but could see no man. Then a twig snapped in the cover near at hand, and a squirrel hunterstepped into view, not fifty feet away. The hunter was probably muchmore astonished than was Black Bruin. The great shaggy brute was soclose to him that he looked like a veritable monster. 

With the hunter's instinct, that acts almost before the mind has timeto think, the gun went to his shoulder and both barrels were dischargedin such quick succession as to call for merely one echo. 

The hunter was of course not in search of bears, so the two charges ofnumber four shot did not have a mortal effect upon the quarry, but atsuch close range they penetrated quite deeply into his flesh and stunghim with an excruciating pain. With a loud "Hoof, " and an agonizedgrunt of pain, the bear fled precipitately in one direction, and thehunter, thinking that he had jeopardized his life by his rashness inattacking a bear with squirrel shot, fled in another. 

The man did not stop running until he reached the nearest farmhouse, where he excitedly gasped out his adventure to wide-eyed listeners, while Black Bruin fled as far as he could into the deep woods, to nursehis many wounds. 

There was little, however, that he could do. The wounds were notdangerous, but they burned and smarted as though a whole swarm of beeshad penetrated his thick coat and found the skin beneath. 

He spent the better part of the day lying in a cooling stream, waitingfor the burning and smarting to cease. 

He had now added one more to the list of his sad experiences in thewild. The man-scent was dangerous and henceforth he must flee at theslightest suspicion of the proximity of man. The rank sulphurous smellof gunpowder, too, and the roar, like thunder, that echoed away throughthe cavernous woods, were things that he would remember. 

Man, who he had thought was quite harmless, was a terrible enemy whocould sting him in a thousand places at once, and shake the forest withthunder and lightning. 

Even while Black Bruin lay wallowing in the stream, trying to ease theburning shotgun wounds, there was being planned in the near-by villagea bear-hunt that should bring about his destruction, for the excitedhunter had described a monster as large as a cow. 

CHAPTER X

THE GREAT BEAR-HUNT

The hair-raising story that the young squirrel-hunter told, createdquite an excitement among villagers near by, but on secondconsideration the older and wiser heads were inclined to discredit it. The imaginative Nimrod had probably seen a black stump or darkmoss-covered rock, which, in the excitement of the moment, he did notstop to investigate. He had fired upon the instant and then fledwithout taking further inventory of the place. It was doubtless one ofthose hallucinations that are so common in the woods. Bears had notbeen plentiful in the region for several years, so at first the storywas discredited. 

About a week later Grandpa Hezekiah Butterfield, one of the old men ofthe village, went about a mile into the country to a farmhouse to takesupper with an old crony and to talk over old times. 

As is usual when two grandpas get to talking over old times, GrandpaButterfield stayed much later than he intended, starting for home atabout eight o'clock. But when he went, he felt well repaid for hisvisit, because he had completely out-talked his companion and moreoverwas carrying back a present of five pounds of honey, which, as the oldman had a sweet tooth, the only tooth he had, was most acceptable. 

Just after leaving the farmhouse, the way led through a deep woodswhich overhung the road, making it quite dark in places. 

It happened that on this same evening Black Bruin went forth on one ofhis nightly prowls. 

It was a moonlight night and the wood-mice were out in force, scampering about and squeaking, having the finest kind of a play. Inthe course of his stalking this small game, Black Bruin came to withina few rods of the road. He was sniffing about an old log which smelledstrongly of mice when a fresh puff of the wind brought him a strongman-scent. 

At this dread odor the hair rose upon his neck and fear told him toslip quietly away in the opposite direction from which the scent came. 

He was about to obey this instinct when the wind again freshened and anew odor filled his nostrils. It was not as strong as the man-scentand it did not fill him with fear, but with delight. It made his mouthdrip saliva and filled him with an insatiate craving for something, hecould not remember just what. 

Then the old sweet smell, that was to him what whisky is to thedrunkard, brought back a familiar picture. It was of a farmhouse withbarns and many out-buildings. There were hens, ducks and turkeys inthe yard and back of the house was a row of beehives that alwaysemitted this ravishing odor. 

It was honey, and at the realization Black Bruin could almost hear thelow droning of the hive, or the angry zip, zip of the bees about hisears as he robbed them. 

Again the night-wind brought the man-scent and the smell of honey. Theformer filled him with fear and the latter with delight. Again andagain he tested the wind, weighing the two odors, and at last the honeyconquered. 

The man might fill him with thorns and prickers from his thunder andlightning stick, but he must have some of that honey. 

Grandpa Butterfield was walking leisurely along humming a psalm tune, as was his wont when well pleased with the world, when he thought heheard something behind him in the road. 

He stopped and listened, but all was still. Only the usualnight-sounds came to his ears. But when he moved on, he felt sure thatthe footsteps again followed. 

At last he reached a point where the moonlight fell across the road. He now felt quite sure that something was coming after him but what, hecould not imagine. Feeling curious, and a bit uneasy, for the road wasa lonely one, he turned and looked behind and there, in the fullmoonlight, not forty feet away, he beheld a huge black bear followingsurely in his footsteps. 

There was no deceiving his eye. He had seen too many bears in daysgone by. 

Grandpa Butterfield quickened his walk to a trot, which in a dozensteps he increased to as lively a run as a man of seventy years couldmuster. 

Black Bruin, feeling, now that the man was running, he was afraid ofhim, and seeing his precious honey rapidly moving away down the road, went in hot pursuit. 

By the time the old man had covered a hundred feet, his breath came inquick asthmatic gasps. Craning his stiff neck to see if he haddistanced his pursuer, he saw to his horror that the bear was nottwenty feet behind him. Terror now lent wings to his rheumatic oldlegs, and he sprinted another hundred feet in much quicker time than hehad the first. 

But Black Bruin now felt sure that the honey was his. The man creaturewas clearly afraid of him, so he too increased his pace. 

Poor Grandpa Butterfield could almost feel the bear's hot breath uponhis back as he ran. Ten seconds more, he told himself, and he would bein the clutches of this brute. His obituary and the account of histragic death would surely be in the county paper next week. 

Suddenly his half-paralyzed brain was electrified by a thought. It wasthe honey that the bear was after, and not him. Who ever heard of abear wanting to eat an old dried-up man, who was as tough as leather?

Without a second's delay he pitched the honey into the road behind him, and continued his frantic flight. 

A few rods farther on, feeling that he was no longer pursued, heglanced back just long enough to see the bear tearing the paper fromthe package and licking out the honey. 

That evening at the country grocery the bear-story of thesquirrel-hunter was amply corroborated by Grandpa Butterfield, who wasso winded and spent with running that he could barely gasp out hisdisconnected account of the chase through the woods. 

The next morning, with Grandpa Butterfield as a guide, several men wentover the ground, where there was plenty of evidence to substantiate theold man's story. The empty honey-frames were there, and thebear-tracks told as plainly as words that a bear, of unusual size, hadgiven the old man the run of his life through the woods. 

Grandpa Butterfield was the hero of the village, both for that day andseveral following, and the long-talked-of bear-hunt was at onceorganized. 

There was but one rifle in the village, and that was a 38-55Winchester, the property of the young hunter from the city, who hadfilled Black Bruin's coat with squirrel-shot. So old rusty shotgunswere got out and cleaned up in readiness for the fray. Some of themhad not seen service recently, with the exception of once or twice ayear, when they were used to scare off the crows or to frighten awoodchuck which was making too free with the beans. 

Boys hunted up old rusty bullet-moulds and ran bullets, and theshotguns were loaded with slugs and buckshot. 

Those who were not fortunate enough even to possess a disreputable oldgun, armed themselves with pitchforks, so that altogether it was amotley armed party that started out one early October morning toannihilate Black Bruin. 

The dogs comprising the pack were half-breed hounds and beagles, withtwo or three pure-blood foxhounds. 

By rare good fortune a farmer, coming into town early, had seen thebear crossing the road ahead of his team, so that the dogs could beshown the trail at once. 

But when the hunters pointed out the hand-shaped track in the road andsaid "seek, " the hair rose upon the dogs' backs and they stuck theirtails between their legs and interpreted "seek, " as meaning that theywere to seek their own homes by the shortest path. This new rankanimal scent had no attraction for them. They had not lost any bear. In other words, they would not follow. 

Here was a difficulty that the hunters had not foreseen, and for a timeit looked as though the hunt was doomed to end then and there. 

Finally some one in the party said, "We ought to have taken along BenHolcome's Growler. Growler ain't afraid of the devil himself. "

Growler was a mongrel, half-hound and half-bulldog. He had not noseenough to follow alone, but as had been said, he wasn't afraid ofanything. So as there was nothing else to do, a boy was sentcross-lots after Growler, while the hunters waited impatiently. 

Growler and the boy at last put in an appearance, and the mongrel wasshown the bear-track in the road. 

Growler's hair likewise rose up on his neck, but his lips also partedin a snarl and he started off on the fresh track, uttering excitedyelps. Growler thought he scented a good fight ahead, and he wouldrather chew on a good adversary any day than upon a piece of beefsteak. 

Seeing what was expected of them, and made courageous by Growler'sexample, the pack followed at full cry, and the great bear-hunt was onin earnest. 

Black Bruin heard them almost at the outset, where he was digging rootsin the deep woods, and for some reason the sounds annoyed him. He knewthey were made by dogs, for he had often heard the old hound Hecla atthe farmhouse running rabbits in the near-by swamp. 

But here, there were half-a-dozen hounds instead of one, and theirbaying was fairly clamorous. 

Finally, the pack entered the woods not forty rods away, and BlackBruin began to get uneasy. At last it dawned upon him, as the packdrew still nearer and nearer, that; they were upon his track. Thisthought filled him with both fear and rage. What did these curs wantof him? Had he not killed a dog that was worrying him, while withPedro, with a single blow?

So he crouched in a thicket and waited expectantly. He had not long towait, for in fifteen seconds the pack came up. When they discoveredthe bear so near at hand, however, and saw what menacing game they hadbeen running, the hounds all slunk back to a safe distance, and sat ontheir tails. But not so Growler. 

Here was the scrap of his life with an animal three times as large asthe big Newfoundland, whom he was in the habit of worrying. So herushed into the thicket and sprang at Black Bruin's throat. 

[Illustration: GROWLER SPRANG AT BLACK BRUIN'S THROAT]

But quick as he was, he was not as quick as his adversary, who rippedopen the side of his head with a lucky blow, and stretched him gaspingupon the ground. Black Bruin then reached down and biting the kickingdog through the neck, finished his troubles in short order. 

Growler uttered one agonized cry, and stretched out dead. This wasenough for the rest of the pack, all of whom stuck their tails betweentheir legs and ran for their respective masters. 

Hearing the cries of men near at hand, Black Bruin slunk out of thethicket and off into the deep woods, but not soon enough to escape afusillade of buckshot which whizzed about him as he ran, a few of thembiting deep into his flesh. 

But he was soon lost to sight, and as the pack would not follow, nowthat Growler was no more, the hunt was finally abandoned for that day. 

The next day a bulldog and a bull terrier were procured to take theplace of Growler, and the hunt was resumed. But being made wary bythis experience, Black Bruin "laid low" and they could not start him. 

Each morning for three days they scoured the country, beating the woodsand loosing the hounds at all points where the bear had been recentlyseen, but without success. 

The fourth morning a farmer came to town in great haste. The bear hadkilled a calf the night before and he had discovered the partly eatencarcass buried in the woods near by. Here was the bait that would lurethe thief into their hands. 

So hunters and hounds went at once to the carcass, where a rather freshtrail was found. Half an hour's pursuit again routed out the bear. Once he took to the open, and the young hunter from the city with theWinchester sent a bullet through his paw, laming him considerably. This would never do, so he doubled back to the woods. 

He did not fear this yelping, baying pack as he did the men that werealso following him. He now knew that the thunder and lightning thatthey carried could bite and sting as nothing else could. 

For half an hour Black Bruin ran hither and thither, doubling in andout. Finally he remembered his tree-climbing habit and in an evilmoment clambered up a tall spruce. In five minutes' time after hescratched up the tree, men and dogs had surrounded his foolish refuge, and his fate seemed sealed. 

The last of the party to arrive was the young man with the Winchester, for whom all had been waiting. One shot from him would end the hunt. 

They discovered Black Bruin about thirty feet from the ground in athick whorl of limbs. 

The young rifleman was much excited. This would be his first bear. His name would be in the local paper, and he would have a great storyto tell when he got back to the city. 

Experience would have taught him to draw his bead finer than he did, and also to have lowered his rear sight, which was set for two hundredyards; but taking careless aim, and thinking he could not miss at suchshort range, he pressed the trigger. 

There was a sharp crack from the rifle, and the bullet ploughed a deepwound in Black Bruin's scalp, but glanced from his thick skull and wentsinging through the tree-tops. 

The blow of the bullet upon the skull dazed the bear for a moment, andhe loosed his hold and came tumbling down through the interlaced limbs. 

But the hard bump that he got at the foot of the tree, brought him tohis senses with a jerk. Right among the yelping, snarling pack he hadfallen, and in sheer desperation he struck out right and left. 

Two of the hounds went yelping to the rear. Then an excited boyleveled a double-barreled shotgun at the bear and discharged bothbarrels. 

At the same instant the best hound in the pack jumped into range androlled over kicking upon the ground. He had received the full charge. 

Half-blinded and dazed by the blow upon his head, and made frantic bythe yelping of the pack, the shouts of the men and the roar of theirthunder, Black Bruin put all his remaining strength into flight. 

Not knowing or seeing which way he went, he fled straight toward thehunter with the Winchester with mouth wide open. 

Horrified at the sight, which the hunter interpreted as a desperatecharge upon the part of the bear, the city Nimrod delivered one wildshot and then fled for his life, as he thought. 

This stampeded the entire hunt, and the terrified men fled as fast astheir legs could carry them until they left the spot far behind. 

It was a question whether the frantic beast tried harder to get awayfrom the hunters, or they from him. 

In the village grocery the stories that were told that night made thesmall boy's hair stand up with fright and his blood run cold with fear. 

As for Black Bruin, with his wounded paw upon which he limpedpainfully, and with his bleeding scalp, he concluded that the part ofthe country in which he had made his home for several months, was noplace for him, so before another sunrise he put many miles betweenhimself and the scene of his narrow escape from the hunters. 

Nor did this one night's journey calm his fear. Night after night hefled, always going in the same direction, which, as he fled northward, carried him farther and farther into the wilderness. 

At last in a wild country of rugged mountains and deep, thickly woodedvalleys, where the habitat of man seemed far distant, he ceased hisflight. 

There in the wilderness, where lumbermen alone penetrated, Black Bruindenned up and slept away his fifth winter. His bed was made deep underthe top of a fallen hemlock, where the snow drifted above him andcovered him with soft white blankets. The only evidence that the outerworld had that a bear was sleeping beneath was a small hole in the snowkept open by the warm breath of the sleeper. 

CHAPTER XI

A PLEASANT COMPANION

When Black Bruin awoke from his long sleep, stretched himself, andsallied forth into the open world, the first faint touch of red wasappearing upon the soft maples. Buds upon the other trees had notstarted and there were yet suggestions of the chill of meltingsnow-banks upon the air. The tones of the forest were still somber, light gray-green or ash color, suggesting the funeral pile of the lastyear. 

If the sun shone brightly for an hour, there might come a dash of hailthe next and a chilling blast of wind that seemed to retard theoncoming spring for a whole month. 

Life hung in the balance, the seasons coquetted, gray-haired old Wintertrifling and flirting with the warm, blushing, sweet-breathed Spring. 

The awakening had not yet come. It might come the next week, or, ifthe spring was exceptionally late, it might not come until the nextmonth. 

In accordance with his usual spring custom Black Bruin fasted forseveral days, eating only grasses, buds and roots. This satisfied himuntil the thick layers of fat, with which he had come forth from hiswinter sleep, disappeared and then he became ravenous, "as ravenous asa wolf, " as the proverb says. 

He hunted mice persistently, but mice seemed not to be as plentiful inthe wilderness as they were nearer civilization. Squirrels also werenot as numerous here as nearer the abode of man. 

Most people, when they go to the great woods, expect to find themteeming with all kinds of life, and are much disappointed to find thatsong-birds and squirrels are decidedly more plentiful in their homevillage than in the wilderness. Many of the birds and smaller animalsare social little creatures and love to be near the abode of man, whileothers live upon the scatterings which agriculture deigns not to pickup. 

One day Black Bruin was following along the banks of a good-sizedstream, looking for frogs, or anything, for that matter, which mightfit into a bear menu, when to his great astonishment he discoveredanother bear, not as large as himself, sitting upon a flat rock a fewfeet from the shore, watching the stream intently. Black Bruin hadnever seen any of his kind before and a feeling of curiosity andfriendly inquiry came over him. He did not go at once to make theacquaintance of the stranger, but kept very quiet and watched to seewhat she was doing. 

[Illustration: HE DISCOVERED ANOTHER BEAR WATCHING THE STREAM]

He did not have long to wait, for a gust of wind soon dropped a bit ofbark upon the stream near the crouching bear. There was a spray ofwater, and a flash of the silver sides of the salmon as it darted tothe surface. Then the bear on the rock reached down with her paw and, with a lightning-like motion, batted the fish out of the water and wellup on the bank. 

Black Bruin, during his year of wild life, had found several dead fish, which he had eaten with great relish. So, without waiting to considerthat the prize did not belong to him, he started out of the bushes forit. 

But the real fisherman rushed at him with such ferocity that he quicklyretreated to cover and sat watching while she killed the fish. 

When it had been dispatched, the lucky fisherman took it in her mouthand went away into the woods with the prize. Black Bruin followed at adistance, smelling of the bushes, where the fish brushed in passing, leaving a tantalizing scent. 

Finally, the bear with the fish stopped under some spruces and beganeating it. 

Soon two fuzzy shuffling little creatures joined her. What they wereor where they came from Black Bruin did not know. They seemed not tocare much for the fish which the old bear offered them, but preferredto romp and tumble about in the jolliest kind of frolic. 

In the old days there had been a litter of puppies at the farmhouse. These queer little creatures were about the size of puppies, but BlackBruin did not think they were small dogs. 

When the fish had been eaten, the three went away farther into thewoods, the two small creatures following in the footsteps of theirmother. 

Then Black Bruin went up and smelled of their tracks and his good nosetold him that they were small bears. 

After that Black Bruin saw the old bear and her two cubs often, but shewould not let him come near them, and did not evince much friendlinessfor him. But he had learned one valuable lesson and the following daywas upon the flat rock watching for fish. 

He did not get one that day or the next, but he had patience, which allfishermen must have, and the third day got his fish. 

It was much larger than the one he had seen the strange bear take andit made him a fine meal. After that he was a tireless fisherman. 

One morning Black Bruin discovered a little dappled fawn following itsmother gleefully through the fragrant breeze-haunted forest, andremembering his calf-killing episode, just before the bear-hunt, heapproached cautiously. This was not a calf, for the habitation of manhad been left far behind. Calves he had made the acquaintance of whenhe was the farmhouse pet, in those far-off days. This was a wildernesscreature and it belonged to him if he could kill it, as did all thewild creatures that he could master. 

This is the universal cry of the woods, --food, food, food; and it isthe cry of civilization as well. There is no dingle dell, where theharebell and the anemone grow, where the pine and the spruce standdarkling and sweet peace seems to fold her wings and sit brooding, butdanger is there. Danger that crawls and creeps and runs with greatbounds. Danger upon velvety paws, that fall on the mosses of theforest carpet as lightly as an autumn leaf; danger that slinks in grayprotectively colored forms which pass like shadows; danger upon wings, as sure and speedy as the hunter's arrow, --wings fringed with down, that their coming may be noiseless and fatal. 

The tiny wood-mouse scampers gleefully in the dead leaves, but abovehim and about him are a dozen dangers. The nervous cottontail sitserect upon his haunches, his nose twitches and his large trumpet-likeears are turned this way and that to catch the slightest sound. Hiswhole attitude is one of intense watching and listening, and well hemay, for his enemies are legion and in every thicket, bush and tree-topa dark danger is lurking. 

This is the war of the woods. The old, old story of carnage, life thattakes life that the breath of life may not go out of the nostrils. Cruel as fate is the law of the woods, but it is also the law of theshambles and carnivorous man. 

Black Bruin was not as well versed in hunting as most of his wildkindred, so he did not take the precaution to get upon the windwardside of his game. The ever-watchful mother scented danger long beforehe got within striking distance. Her white flag went up and she ledher offspring at a breakneck pace from the place, but Black Bruin hadmarked them for his own and it was only a matter of patience. 

For several days he watched their coming and going, until at last hediscovered where the mother left her offspring while she went to adistant lake to feed upon lily-pads. 

The little dappled deer was hidden under a fallen tree-top and one day, while the doe was gone, he fell upon the helpless fawn, which, according to the unwritten law of the forest, was his legitimate meat. 

With a swift sure rush and a savage snarl, he brought the little deerfrom hiding. There was a short, swift chase, an agonized bleat or two, and Black Bruin had a breakfast that well repaid him for all hiswatching and waiting. 

The same afternoon he saw the mother, wild-eyed and bleating, racingwildly up and down the forest, asking, by terrified looks and actions, "Have you seen my little dappled fawn? He is gone and there is strongbear-scent about the tree-top where I hid him. " For several days shehaunted the region and her anxiety and heedlessness of her own safetynearly caused her to fall a victim to the wary hunter, but she finallydisappeared altogether. 

It was not until the full glory of mid-summer was over the land thatBlack Bruin met White Nose in a blueberry patch upon a barren hillside. At first she would have nothing to do with him, but he followed her sopersistently that she was at last obliged to take notice. 

For a long time something in earth and air had been calling to BlackBruin, --something that he craved above all other things; but what itwas he never knew until he rubbed muzzles with White Nose and felt herwarm breath in his face. Then he knew that he had found what he wantedand that the old loneliness would not haunt him again. 

But there was one thing about him that made his mate most suspiciousand it took much patient coaxing upon Black Bruin's part to overcomeher misgivings. This was the strong leather collar that the formerdancing-bear still wore about his neck. 

It was the collar into which Pedro had fastened the chain during thelatter part of the bear's captivity. This White Nose could notunderstand. In all her experience she had never seen a bear wearingsuch a thing as this. The man-scent about it, too, made it still morealarming. But at last her prejudice was overcome, and the two came andwent together during the rest of the summer and the early autumn. 

From her Black Bruin learned many of the secrets of the woods that hadhitherto been hidden from him. White Nose had been reared in the wild, so all her senses were keen and the woods and waters were herhunting-ground. 

Together they caught salmon at a shallow point in the stream where allthey had to do was to sit upon a rock and knock them out on the bank asthey passed. Together, in the early autumn, they raided a beavercolony, breaking into the houses and killing several of the members. Black Bruin thought he had never tasted anything in his life quite sodelicious as beaver-meat. 

White Nose also taught him how to lie in wait for the deer in a clumpof bushes by some pathway that they were in the habit of following, orby the lick, or perhaps by a spring where they often came to drink, andthen, before they suspected their presence, to make a sudden rush. 

She showed him a hollow birch-stub, in which a family of raccoonsdwelt, and together they set to work to destroy the household of theirown smaller brother. They dug and tore at the base of the stub untilthey had undermined it, and then together pushed it over. 

At first the raccoon family were much astonished and terrified at thecommotion outside their dwelling, and when finally the house came down, three sleek raccoons fled in as many directions. White Nose securedone and Black Bruin another, while the third escaped. 

The last thing in the autumn, before they denned up, the two bears madea long journey of several days to the nearest settlement, where theykilled several sheep, and also carried off two small pigs. In thisstealing, Black Bruin took the lead, for he knew much better the waysof man, and the danger from his thunder and lightning than did hiscompanion. 

Upon this good supply of mutton and pork they laid on the final layersof fat, and then returned to their wilderness and denned up for thewinter. 

CHAPTER XII

THE KING OF THE MOUNTAIN

The following spring, when Black Bruin came forth from hibernation, hewent one day's journey nearer to the settlements and took upheadquarters in a rugged and heavily timbered series of mountains, which were admirably adapted to his purpose. 

Whenever he awoke during his winter nap he still tasted pork and muttonfrom the autumn raid. Henceforth he must have more of that diet. Sothe reason for his changing his base of operations will be readilyseen. One day's journey would carry him back into the wilderness, withits fine resources for fishing and hunting, while a day's travel in theopposite direction would bring him to the outskirts of the settlements, within easy striking distance of plunder. 

At his first meeting with White Nose, he found her most unresponsive tohis advances, considering the fact that they had come and gone togetherall through the autumn. The reason for her indifference was soondiscovered, for Black Bruin saw that she had two little fuzzy cubs intow;--one with a smutty white nose like her own, and the other with adark muzzle like Black Bruin's. If Black Bruin knew that these werehis offspring, he did not evince much interest in them, while WhiteNose would hardly let him go near them. Perhaps she was afraid that hemight eat them, or maybe it was only maternal jealousy, which is alwaysstrong in wild mothers. 

For several days after taking up his abode in the mountains, BlackBruin contented himself with a vegetarian diet, varied with fish andsmall game, but the blood-lust soon came upon him and he began prowlingabout the settlements. 

At first, his reconnoitering was unsuccessful; but one day hediscovered an animal four or five times as large as a deer, feeding inan open field near the woods. This would not have interested him muchhad not the large creature been followed by a little animal of the samekind. He never would have thought of attacking the mother, but thecalf was easily within his scope and he began shadowing them with thepersistence of a good hunter. 

Black Bruin knew that these creatures were the property of men. He hadoften watched the cattle feeding when he lived near the scene of thegreat bear-hunt, but with the exception of the calf he had killed uponthat eventful morning, he had never molested them. 

Even now, he associated the killing of the calf with the baying ofhounds and danger, but he was now much wiser and stronger. He feltthat he could get away to the mountains long before men would discovertheir loss. He could even fight if need be. 

Of all the bears in the region he was easily the strongest and heaviestand his life with White Nose the fall before had taught him many things. 

One morning the young heifer hid her little red calf in a thicket justas the doe had her fawn and went to feed in the open near by. 

This was Black Bruin's opportunity, and swift and sure like the goodhunter he had now become, he approached. The deer mother had notoffered to attack him and he did not think this one would, so he didnot pay much attention to her. 

He crept as near as he could without scaring the game and then with aswift pounce was upon it. He struck the calf a blow that should havebroken its neck, but the calf moved at just the critical moment andreceived a glancing stroke. With a bleat of pain and fear it sprang upand fled toward its mother. It took only two jumps, for a second blowlaid it low, with just enough life left to kick. 

Black Bruin seized the prize by the head and began dragging it into thebushes. But he had not gone far when the heifer was upon him like awhirlwind. He aimed a blow at her head which deprived her of one horn, but this did not stop her charge. She caught him fairly in the chestand sent him sprawling. 

Her remaining horn ploughed a deep wound in his shoulder and the forceof the contact knocked the breath out of him, but it also aroused hisfighting blood and put him upon his guard. 

When the heifer came for him the second time, he ripped open her noseand eluded her charge, but in no way dampened her fighting ardor. 

Ordinarily she would have fled from the bear like the wind, but hermaternal affection had been aroused and wounded and no matter how timidthe wild mother, it will usually fight desperately when its young areassailed. 

Now that the bear was upon his guard, the heifer was hardly a match forhim, for he could usually elude her charges and punish her sorely ateach rush; but one thing was certain: It would be no easy matter tocarry off the dead calf, and carry on such a fight as this at the sametime. 

In five minutes the cow was covered with blood and her hide had beendeeply lacerated in many places, while Black Bruin still had but onewound, that in his shoulder. 

Little by little the heifer's frenzy was worn out, until at last sheretired to a distance and pawed the ground and bellowed. But whenBlack Bruin sought to carry off the calf, she was back again fightingevery inch of the ground and often causing him to abandon the carcassfor a time. 

When she stood over the dead calf, licking the blood from its woundsand caressing and nosing it, trying in her dumb way to bring it back tolife, she was a pathetic picture of wild motherhood, fighting and readyto fight to the end if need be for its offspring. 

Finally toward night she seemed to understand that the calf was deadand no longer of value to her, so, after driving Black Bruin far fromthe spot, she abandoned the fight and left him conqueror and in fullpossession of the field. 

When he had made sure that she had returned to the pasture, he draggedthe calf far up the mountainside into his fastness and gorged upon itas long as it lasted. 

As the pasture in which Black Bruin had committed his depredation was amile from the settler's house and not often visited except to salt theyoung stock kept in it, the real offender was not discovered, althoughit was apparent to the farmer that the heifer had been attacked by somewild beast. The rains, however, had so obliterated the signs that itis doubtful if he could have read them rightly, even had he discoveredthe scene of the battle. 

About a week later Black Bruin was climbing the mountainside on the wayto his fastness when the wind brought him a new scent that he hadsometimes smelled before, but what to attribute it to he had neverknown. The scent was very strong and Black Bruin knew that theintruder of his domain was near at hand. At last he made out a dimgray shape, near the trunk of a tree. Its color so blended with itssurroundings that he might not have noticed it at all, had it not beenfor two yellow phosphorus eyes that glowed full at him. 

The creature was about the size of a large raccoon, but it was noraccoon. Its head was large and round, and surmounted by long earswith hairy tassels at the end. Its forearm was longer and strongerthan that of a raccoon and the tail was short and not much of anornament. 

Whatever the animal was, it was small and possibly good to eat, soBlack Bruin made a rush at it; but quick as he was, he was not half asquick as the lynx, which with a snarl and a spit scratched up the treein a manner that made the bear's own accomplishments at tree-climbinglook mean indeed. So the stranger could climb trees? Well, so couldBlack Bruin. Up he scratched after it. He would follow it to the topand then bat it off with his paw. 

When the cat had nearly reached the top of the tree, it turned aroundand looked back. Its enemy was close upon it and something heroic mustbe done. 

The cat measured the distance to a tree-top forty or fifty feet fartherdown the mountainside; then the top of the tree in which it squattedsprang back and the gray form shot through the air and alightedgracefully in the distant tree-top. 

It was a great jump, and so astonished Black Bruin that he forgot to befurious at seeing his game escape. 

This was his first experience with a Canadian lynx, but he saw themoften, once he had learned their ways. He discovered that they toowere fishermen, and hunters of small game. He often found them huntingupon his preserves, but their broad paws fell so lightly upon theforest carpet and their gray forms were so unobtrusive in the woodsthat he did not often come to close quarters with them. 

A few days later, one evening, just at twilight, when Black Bruin wasprowling cautiously after a deer family, consisting of a buck, twodoes, and three fawns, he made the acquaintance of another cat, muchlarger and more supple than the lynx. 

The deer were moving slowly from point to point, browsing as they went, when suddenly from the tree-tops, fell a long lithe figure. 

So swift and terrible was its coming that the doe upon whom it sprangwas borne to the ground. The great cat did not wait for it to recover, but with claw and fang soon throttled it, while the rest of the herdfled at a breakneck pace, their white flags up. 

Here was game already killed. The great cat was not over a third asheavy as Black Bruin. It would doubtless run away at his approach asdid everything else. 

So thought the bear as he rushed in to take the kill from the cougar, but he had reckoned without his host. 

The panther was so intent upon its own game that it did not notice theapproach of the bear until the rival hunter was within thirty feet ofthe prize. Then it wheeled about and was instantly transformed into ademon. Its tail lashed its sides, its fangs were bared in the ugliestsnarl that Black Bruin had ever faced and its eyes fairly blazed. 

Black Bruin backed off a few feet to get a better look at the terriblestranger. He had not expected opposition and such effrontery was newto him. 

But the panther continued to lash her sides with her tail and to glareand snarl, so the bear circled about and about, trying to get behindhis adversary. Finally, seeing that the panther had no notion ofgiving up the kill, the bear went in search of other game. 

But he was not afraid of the great cat, only astonished and curious. He knew quite well that the deer did not belong to him and this mayhave kept him from picking a quarrel. 

If he had met the cat in any of the forest highways and it had disputedhis right to any of the privileges of the ancient woods, he would havegiven battle. So he was still the king of the mountain, although hehad left the cat in full possession of the deer. 

Spring and summer came and went. The blueberries ripened in thepastures and scant clearings, and the blackberries along the edge ofthe woods. All the native roots that Black Bruin knew so well grew inabundance. 

Occasionally he stole from the distant settlements, as the king of themountain had a right to do, or went farther into the wilderness wherethe hunting and fishing were better. Several times he ran across WhiteNose and her two fuzzy cubs, but they did not have much to do with eachother until autumn came around. 

Finally the first frosts came, and the waiting forest shook out itsscarlet and crimson and golden banners, and many water-grasses andweeds took on quite bright colors, for such humble plants. 

One moonlight night in October, when the air had begun to be clear andcrisp, and the sky was so studded with stars that it seemed as if therewas not room for even one more, a strange and lordly company camestalking into the land of the king of the mountain. They were gray, dim, spectral shapes and new to the region. 

They may have been looking for feeding grounds, or perhaps the autumnrestlessness was upon their leader, who was a giant of his kind, --abroad-antlered belligerent bull moose, ready at this season of the yearto fight anything and everything that crossed his path. 

The first time Black Bruin saw the newcomers he was digging roots alongthe edge of a shallow pond. He was also keeping a sharp lookout forfrogs, clams, or almost any small crustaceans. 

Presently he noticed a commotion out in the middle of the pond, whichwas only about an acre in extent. Then a great head, surmounted by amassive set of horns, came up out of the water and Black Bruin saw thatthe strange creature had his mouth full of lily-bulbs andwater-grasses. Soon the huge head disappeared again, and after a fewseconds reappeared, bringing up more lily-pads. 

For half an hour Black Bruin watched the stranger diving andreappearing. Then the great beast swam ashore, shook himself and wentcrashing off through the woods, his hoofs keeping time in a rhythmicclack, a-clack, clack. 

When he had disappeared Black Bruin advanced to the spot where he hadcome ashore and smelled his track. It was not like anything that hehad ever smelled before, and somehow the scent made him angry. Thislordly monster was invading his preserves. No one but him had a rightto hunt or fish, or to eat roots in this region. So Black Bruinfollowed the trail of the moose, half curious and half angry. 

He had not gone a quarter of a mile when he came up with the bull, whowas rubbing his antlers upon the branches of a low tree. 

Black Bruin watched him for several moments, until a puff of windcarried the telltale scent to the moose, who is most wary and watchful. 

The moose threw up his head, gave a loud snort and blew his breaththrough his nose with a whistling sound, then crashed off through theforest. This fact led Black Bruin to surmise that he was afraid ofhim, and nearly resulted in his undoing. 

The following day, he discovered the broad-antlered stranger browsingupon a small tree that was bent down under his foreleg. There were twoother tall, gaunt creatures, also feeding near, and two small animalsof the same kind. These were two cow-moose and their calves. Altogether it was quite an imposing family party. 

Black Bruin watched them curiously for a time, until finally the bullscented him, and came charging through the bushes. 

This both astonished and angered the bear, but seeing how large andformidable the stranger was, and how fearlessly he came on, Black Bruinsneaked away through the bushes into some very thick cover and bidedhis time. 

It came a few days later. He was poking under the dead leaves forbeechnuts, when he noticed the herd passing at a distance. The twocows and the calves were apparently alone, and one of the calves wasstraggling far behind the rest. For several days the blood-lust hadbeen strong upon Black Bruin, and here was his opportunity. So hebegan stalking the calf warily. The wind was in his favor and in halfan hour he had worked around within striking distance. 

He first peered all about to see that the bull was not in sight, andthen made a sudden rush upon the calf. But awkward as it looked, thecalf was agile, and nearly eluded him, merely receiving a raking blowacross the shoulder, where Black Bruin had intended to break its neck. Terrified and stung with excruciating pain, it ran hither and thither, bleating and making a great outcry. 

But Black Bruin was not the hunter to let his prey get away if he couldhelp it, so he pursued the calf hotly and soon landed another blow thatstretched it upon the ground. He was so intent upon his own game, thathe did not notice the cyclone bearing down upon him. 

Suddenly the broad-antlered monster was above him, striking withterrible cutting hoofs, which ploughed deep furrows in his shaggy coatand cut deeper gashes. Almost before he knew it, he had been knockeddown and was rapidly being trampled to death. 

The only thing that protected him was his fat. He was so rotund and socovered with thick layers of fat, that he slipped about under thefearful cutting hoofs. 

He struck out viciously, laying open one of the bull's forelegs, butwithout avail. In another minute his fate would have been sealed, hadnot a deliverer come at the right second. 

Suddenly, from out the bushes near at hand, charged another bull moose, bellowing frightfully as he came. He was not coming primarily to BlackBruin's assistance, but to do battle with the first bull. One of thecows by right was his, and he proposed to claim his rights, and battlefor them like the knights of old. 

Hearing the challenge and seeing a rival near at hand, the moose lefthis victim and charged furiously at the newcomer, while Black Bruinlimped painfully into the bushes, feeling that he had found outsomething about the genus moose that it was well to remember. 

He did not fully recover from his mauling until he went into winterquarters. 

The following spring when Black Bruin came forth from hibernation, hemade a trip to a distant lake where the moose were often to be found. He had no mind to molest them, but he did want a certain root whichgrew only there. 

He went directly to the little pond where he had first seen the bullmoose, and had arrived within a few rods of the shore when his keen earcaught a slight sound. It was a sound of pain, half-groan andhalf-moan. Something was in distress. Distress in the wildernessusually means a good dinner for some one, so Black Bruin creptcautiously forward. Soon the wind brought moose-scent to the bear'snostrils and he was filled with fear and tempted to flee, but still hecould hear deep groans and sighs. Coming to the edge of the water hepeered out through the bushes and discovered the mighty moose helplessand impotent, mired in a treacherous spring bog. His legs wereentirely buried in the mud, which came up on his sides. He was coveredwith foam and sweat, and so weak with thrashing and wrenching, that hecould hardly hold up his great head. 

At the sight, hate glowed hot in the small red eyes of Black Bruin. Itwas this monster who had so beaten and humiliated him. Now he wouldpunish him, so he crept cautiously forward. 

But the strong wind blew the moose-scent in his nostrils and fear kepthim at bay. Finally the moose also scented the bear and made franticefforts to free himself, feeling that he was now helpless and at themercy of all; but his efforts were futile and he laid his head wearilydown in the mud when he had ceased struggling. 

For a whole day Black Bruin watched him, before he could overcome hisfear; then he crept cautiously out and sprang upon the bull's rear. The great brute was by that time so spent that he hardly moved whileBlack Bruin lacerated his flanks. The only sign of pain that he gavewas expressed in deep groans and sighs which seemed fairly to come fromhis breaking heart. 

Soon the conqueror crept along the back to his neck, and biting andstriking at the vertebrae, quickly extinguished the strong life in thegreat frame and the huge head gradually sank in the mire. For severaldays Black Bruin came and gorged himself upon the carcass and did notdesist until it had entirely disappeared in the bog. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE BEAR WITH A COLLAR

It may interest the reader to know just how Black Bruin looked in this, his seventh year, when he had acquired his full stature, which wasenormous for a black bear. 

The California grizzly occasionally reaches a thousand pounds, whilethe enormous brown Kadiak bears, the largest carnivorous animals in theworld, reach two thousand pounds; but the black bear usually averagesabout two hundred. Black Bruin had far outstripped all hiscontemporaries in size and prowess. In the fall of his seventh year heweighed upon the scales four hundred and two pounds, which fairlyearned him the title of King. 

His coat was long, thick, and glossy and black in color. 

He was not as high upon the shoulders as one might expect for so largea beast. A wolf that stands thirty or thirty-two inches at theshoulder will weigh one hundred and twenty-five pounds and is a largewolf. Black Bruin was probably thirty-five or forty inches high at theshoulder, but considerably higher in the middle of the back, which alsosloped off at the rear, where he was quite rotund. His tail was soinsignificant as to be hardly noticed at all at a distance. His headwas rather small for so large an animal. His eyes were also small andlooked weak. His claws, which were non-retractile, were not rakishlylong as are the grizzly's, but protruded slightly beyond the long hairupon his feet. 

So altogether Black Bruin was most imposing for an eastern bear. Hewas sleek and well-groomed, with the exception of two or three monthsin the early summer when he shed his coat. 

Living as he now did within easy reach of the abode of man, he wentmore and more often to the farmhouses and took toll of the farmers. His wariness in regard to men, which he had learned partly of WhiteNose and partly from sad experience, gradually wore away and his oldlife with Pedro helped him to forget how strange and fearful a creatureman is, when dealing with wild beasts. 

So while he came and went much more recklessly than he would otherwisehave done, yet his knowledge of man's ways stood him in good stead. 

He knew that man was a creature of the day, doing his work in broaddaylight, while the bear is a night prowler. He knew that at morningand evening man came and went from the fields to his den, where healways stayed at night. 

He knew at just what hours the man-beast would be sleeping, and when hewould come forth and tend his creatures. He had often followed his ownmaster in the old cubhood days at the farmhouse, from outbuilding tooutbuilding, watching him do the morning chores. 

Man's thunder and lightning he also knew and feared more than all hisother powers. Dogs he despised and he also hated them, for they ofteninterrupted him in his thieving. 

One Sunday morning early in June Black Bruin had been prowling about alittle Canadian village and had satisfied his appetite with ahen-turkey, which he had happened to discover sitting far from home. He was returning to his mountain, when, in crossing one of those broadpaths in which men always traveled, he so far forgot his usualprecautions as nearly to run into a team carrying a half-witted Frenchboy to early mass, that was being celebrated in the little FrenchCatholic church near by. 

Upon seeing the enormous black bear at such close quarters, the boy'shair fairly stood up with fright and whipping up his horse he was soonat the church. Throwing the lines upon the horse's back, he boltedinto the sanctuary, although mass was in progress, crying, "I see onedeevil bar, as beeg as a mountain, I deed. "

Just as the boy entered the church, a large Newfoundland dog, which hadfollowed one of the worshipers to mass and was waiting for his masterupon the steps, like a good Catholic, became excited at the boy'sfrantic manner and bounded into the church after him. 

Seeing the great shaggy dog appear at the same instant that the boyannounced his "deevil bar, " in the dimly lighted church, the worshipersat once jumped to the conclusion that this was the "deevil bar" who hadcome to eat them all up, like the wolf in "Red Riding Hood. "

Women and children screamed and rushed for a farther corner of thechurch, while the more hysterical fainted. Even strong men were for asecond startled. 

But from his eminence at the altar Father Gaspard saw their mistake andsoon reassured them. 

Meanwhile, the innocent cause of all the disturbance had been as muchscared by the team as had the half-witted boy by him, and was makingfor the deep woods at his best pace. 

One night, early in July, Alec Pierre, a wood-chopper, came to thevillage with a startling story. He had been chopping two or threemiles back in the heavy timber. His own home was closer to theprimeval forest than any other of the many straggling farmhouses. 

He had taken his dinner, going and coming at morning and evening. Eachnoon he went to a cool spring which he knew of, to eat his lunch. 

This noon he had gone as usual, only to discover that some one hadgotten ahead of him. There by the spring, sitting upon his haunches, was an enormous black bear. In his paws he was holding thecoffee-bottle, looking at it intently, while his countenance plainlybespoke satisfaction with the discovery. 

While the woodsman was wondering what was the best thing to do, thebear raised the bottle to his mouth, and biting upon the cork with histeeth, pulled it out. Then he put the nose of the bottle in his mouthand drank the contents with as much ease as if he had been the realowner. 

"I so scart I jes' stan' there an' say nutting. He eat my doughnut, heeat my pie. He act jes' like folks. Pretty soon I keep on lookingsome more an' I see down in his har, round hees neck one peeg collar, jes' like a dog. 

"Heem one beeg deevil. I so scart when he drink out uv de bottle, I nosay nutting. He eat my pie, I no say nutting. I 'fraid he take my gunby the tree an' shoot me. By gar. 

"By and by he go way and I go up an' look. Perhaps I t'ink I beendreaming. So I pinch my lage an' it hurt, an' then I look aroun' an'there bar-track beeg as snow-shoe. 

"Eet so queer I t'ink heaps an' heaps. Then pretty soon I t'ink hesome puddy tame bar run away. He break he chain. That why heemcollar. I say to myself, no chain, no collar. 

"Heem one tame bar run away. He know how do treeks. I catch heem inone small log-house I beeld. When circus come round next week, or two, I seel heem get pig money. "

Those villagers who listened to Alec's tale agreed that his reasoningwas good, but most of them characterized the story as one big lie, andthought no more of it. But not so Alec. He had seen that day in thewood the most wonderful sight of his life, a bear eating like folks, and he could not get out of his head the idea that the capture of thatbear meant a fortune to the trapper who should accomplish the feat. 

Perhaps, there was also some superstition linked with his curiosity, for nearly all Canucks are superstitious; but at any rate the very nextday he set about building the trap that should capture the "deevilbar, " and make him a rich man. 

The trap upon which Alec relied for the capture of Black Bruin was apen-trap. It was made in the following manner:

Alec looked about until he discovered four trees, growing in two pairsten or twelve feet apart. These sets of pillars were to be the fourcorners of the trap. He then set to work to cut small logs eight orten inches in diameter. These were a couple of feet longer than thepen was to be and were built up one above another on the inside of thepillars, being held in place against the trees by strong stakes drivendeep into the ground. 

In this manner the two sides and the back end of the pen-trap wereformed. The top was covered with poles, weighted down with stones. The trap-door, which was at the front, was made of plank and slid upand down in a groove. When it was raised, it was held in place by acord which passed over the top of the pen-trap and down on the backside, finally attaching to a trigger connecting with a spindle insidethe pen, at the farther end. The bait was to be placed on this spindleand a tug upon it would let go the trap-door. As this was weightedwith stones, it came down with a bang and anything unfortunate enoughto be inside was caught in a prison of great strength. 

It took Alec two days to build the trap, and when it was finished hecarefully removed all chips and traces of his carpentering. 

Usually a bear will not go near anything so new and apparently man-madeas a green pen-trap. So Alec did not expect success for several days. In the meantime he took pains to bait Black Bruin and keep him in thevicinity by placing near the spring meat and other food, that hiswoodsman's instinct told him would be appreciated by a hungry bear. Hedid not forget an occasional bottle of coffee. Although he did not seethe bear again for several days, yet the meat and the coffee alwaysdisappeared, which was pretty good evidence that he was near by. 

Black Bruin heard Alec hacking and hewing at the trap, but did notconsider it anything out of the ordinary. This queer creature wasalways hacking and hewing at the trees. He had often seen hishandiwork piled up in long straight piles. Once for mere amusement hehad scattered a pile in every direction. 

When he at last came suddenly upon the pen-trap one day, after it hadbeen baited for some time, he gave a surprised grunt and backed off afew feet to get a better view. It looked very queer and verysuspicious. He was quite sure that it had not been there a week ago, for he was well acquainted with the region. 

It was made of trees, but trees usually grew upright, and they alwayshad limbs upon them. The ends of the logs were hacked and green likethe sticks in the wood-pile. 

Black Bruin circled around and around the pen-trap, gradually drawingnearer and nearer to it. Finally he came close enough to peep in atthe doorway. Inside it was rather dark, but at last he both saw andsmelled the calf's head that hung from the spindle. Meat had also beenrubbed about the doorway, which was most tantalizing, especially asBlack Bruin had not had any for three days. 

He licked the particles of meat that still stuck to the logs about thedoorway and then started to go in, but it seemed dark and suspicious;beside there was a very faint suggestion of man-scent inside. Outsidethe rain and the wind had obliterated all foreign scents. Man-scentmeant danger. Man was no friend of the wild creatures, so Black Bruinbacked out and very reluctantly went away. 

When Alec visited his trap the next day, he did not go near enough tosee the bear-tracks in the fresh dirt about the door, for he did notcare to leave fresh man-scent in its vicinity; so he was ratherdiscouraged with the failure of his efforts. The trap had now been setfor a week and nothing apparently had been near it. 

The next day Black Bruin again visited the trap, but his suspicionswere still keen and as he had killed a wood-chuck that morning, hisappetite was not ravenous, so he again left the bait untasted. 

The third time that he came near the spot, which somehow had afascination for him, he smelled a new and bewitching odor, one that abear is almost powerless to resist. It brought back to his mind thatold tantalizing picture of the row of white beehives in the back yardof the farmhouse. 

The scent made his mouth drip saliva, and his manner, which a momentbefore had been suspicious and guarded, was now eager and full ofcuriosity and impatience. 

He went at once to the doorway of the pen-trap and thrust in his head. It was as he had thought, --the ravishing scent came from inside. 

He sniffed several times and with each whiff of the honey became moreimpatient. There, dangling from the spindle, was a section of thecoveted sweet. 

Black Bruin stepped inside and stretched out his muzzle toward thehoney; then he detected a man-scent about the frame that he had notnoticed before. He backed out and the hair rose on his neck. 

He then smelled all about the sides of the pen. There was nosuggestion of man-scent there. Again he returned to the honey. 

The taint about that was certain, but the honey almost drove himfrantic. So with a sudden motion he snatched the coveted prize in hismouth and gave a hard tug at it. He would seize it before theman-scent had power to injure him and then flee. 

But quick as were the motions of Black Bruin, the trap was quicker, forthe moment the trigger was loosed, the cord let go the drop-door anddown it came with a great bang. The bear was suddenly in darkness. 

With a loud "Uff" he dropped the honey and turned in the pen, but thedoorway by which he had entered was closed. He sprang upon it with agrowl and pushed with all his might, but he was pushing against thepillars, which were two trees nearly a foot in diameter, and he mightas well have pushed against the side of a cliff. 

Then he whirled about and, seizing the spindle in his mouth, pulledviolently upon it, but it availed him nothing. 

Then he assailed first one wall and then another in rapid succession. He tore the bark and also great pieces from the logs with his teeth, but the logs were thick and he merely strewed the inside of the trapwith bark and splinters, leaving it still as strong as ever. Then hebraced crosswise upon the trap and tried to push the logs from theirplaces. They gave a very little when he put forth his giant strength, but the effort was futile. 

Then he stood upon his hind legs and tried to reach the poles overheadwith his paw, but the trap was too high for this. 

For hours he raged and tore at the logs which held him so effectively. He stripped the inside of the pen entirely free of bark, and litteredthe floor with a bushel of splinters; but all his tearing and biting, pushing and straining, prying and growling, availed him nothing. 

At last his great strength was worn out and in the place of rage atbeing restrained fear came over him. It was man that had done thisthing. The scent on the honey-frame plainly said as much. He wasagain in the clutches of that dread creature. 

Now his fear grew tenfold. The giant lay down in a corner, as far aspossible away from the honey that had cost him his freedom, and coweredlike a whipped dog, with his head between his paws and fear clutchinghim like an awful force that he was powerless to resist. 

The following morning when Alec visited his trap, he found to his greatjoy that it was sprung. Going up cautiously, he peeped through a crackbetween the logs. There was the gigantic black bear cowering inside. 

When Alec's eyes became accustomed to the gloom of the pen, he saw thatthe bear wore the heavy collar about his neck, although it was deeplyimbedded in the fur, and at this assurance, Alec gave a shout ofdelight. 

"Heem, my deevil bar, sure enough, " he exclaimed, and at the hatedman-sound Black Bruin drew farther into his corner. 

That afternoon an ox-cart, bearing a mammoth crate made of two by fourtimbers, came creaking into the woods and was backed up to thepen-trap. For an hour or so there was a sound of hammering while aplank-covered gangway was being built from the pen-trap to the strongcrate. 

Then, to the great astonishment of Black Bruin, the door of thepen-trap slowly lifted, and the way to freedom seemed plain. 

With a sudden rush he scrambled up the gang-plank into the crate, and asecond trap-door, as strong as that in the pen-trap, closed behind himand he was a prisoner in a new house. 

For a long time Black Bruin could not realize that he was still aprisoner. The light streamed in between the strong bars. He could seehis captors all about him. They were three excited, gesticulating men, all dark, and to Black Bruin's eyes, sinister-looking like Pedro. 

He put his paws between the bars and strained with all his might. 

They pounded his paws and prodded him to make him desist, but he didnot mind their blows any more than he would those of a child. Freedomwas so near at hand. The green woods, the sweet wild woods, his woodswere all about him. The blue sky was above him. The fragrant windblew fresh through his prison-bars. 

It could not be that he was helpless so near to freedom. Presentlythese strong bars would break and he would rush into the wilderness andflee far from the haunts of men. 

Then the slow and curious procession started. One of the men drove thecattle and the other two walked by the side of the crate, prodding andbeating Black Bruin whenever he strained too frantically at theprison-bars. 

Slowly they drew out of the woods with its long dark shadows and itsaroma of pine and balsam. Gradually the forest with its dells and itsthickets, its ferns and witch-hazel, its bird-song and its chatteringsquirrels, its sense of freedom and peace, was left behind and theyemerged into dusty roadways bordered by fields of grass and grain. 

This was the habitat of man, his world, with which Black Bruinassociated a chain and a collar, a sharp stick and curses and endlesstricks. 

At last he ceased to struggle and strain and stood with his head at therear of his cage, looking back at his vanishing world. Slowly thegreen plumes of the forest faded. Even the outline of the distantmountains was at last lost and the flat farmlands, dotted withfarmhouses and carpeted with grain-fields, took its place. 

The old world and the old life were left far behind, and when the lastblue hilltop faded, the heart went out of Black Bruin. He no longerexulted in his strength and his cunning, for man had again undone him. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE WRECK

For weary hours the ox-cart plodded along the country road, and at lastthe long shadows deepened into twilight and the stars came out and it wasnight, but still they journeyed on. 

The soft night-winds quickened into being the fragrance of many a flowerthat had not been noticed in the full heat of day. But wind andfragrance, night and daylight were all the same to Black Bruin, for thatwhich made the world beautiful, and his strong free life worth living, was gone. Freedom was no longer his, and he cowered upon the floor ofhis prison, laid his head between his paws, and acted more like a whippedpuppy than the great strong brute that he was. 

Finally the ox-team drew up at a long, low building, and the men unloadedthe crate upon a narrow platform. 

Here they were soon joined by another man who came from the building. 

"How long before the night freight ter H---- comes along, Bill?" drawledone of the men in charge of Black Bruin. "Alec, here, has got a bar asbig as a cow that he is a-takin' to the circus which'll be at H----to-morrow. He don't want to miss it. "

"It's due now, " replied the station-agent, and even as he spoke, theshrill whistle of the freight sounded in the distance. 

A little later Black Bruin heard a distant rumbling and clanging whichwas like nothing that he had ever heard before. Then there was avibration of the solid floor under him, and the long, heavily loadedfreight thundered down upon the little station. 

As the hideous, clanging, shrieking, hissing monster rushed down uponthem, coming seemingly straight for the wooden crate, Black Bruin sprangagainst the bars with such violence that he nearly tipped it over, andgave his captors a great scare. 

In a very few minutes, however, the crate, together with the otherfreight, was hustled into an empty car, and the train pulled out and wentthundering away into the darkness. 

At first the motion made Black Bruin very uneasy, and he walked to andfro continually; but finally this was succeeded by his being car-sick, and he was soon glad to lie down and keep very still for the rest of thejourney. 

This was his first night upon a freight train, but it was not his last, for ahead of him was a strange and turbulent existence. He was going tothe great city to join the circus, to be a part of that astonishingprocession which annually parades the streets of our large cities, andwhich draws crowds, such as does no other entertainment. 

Toward morning, after having made several stops, the car in which BlackBruin was a passenger was side-tracked, and a large, gilded wagon, knownto the small boy as a circus-van, was backed up to it. Then the cratewas placed against the cage on the van, and both doors were opened. 

The new prison looked much more fragile than that in which Black Bruinwas. The bars were very small and might be easily broken. It waslighter, too, than his present abode, so after a little poking andpunching, the captive went into the other prison, and a moment later, when he turned about to look for the doorway by which he had entered, itwas closed and the wooden crate was being taken away. Man had againoutwitted him, but the manner in which he was now confined seemed veryinsecure to Black Bruin. He would soon either find a way out, or elsemake one. With this in view, he went about the cage several times, sniffing and poking his nose between the bars. He put his powerful armsbetween two of the bars and strained upon them with all his enormousstrength, but they did not seem to give at all. Then he sought to grindone to splinters between his teeth, but instead he broke a tooth, and theeffort made him see stars. 

What new and amazing substance was this, which could not be bent orbroken, or even bitten into? The more Black Bruin pushed at the ironbars of his cage, the fainter grew that spark of hope which is themainspring of all life, until at last he ceased to hope altogether, andbowing to the inevitable, no longer sought to be free. Sullenly heglared at the gaping crowds that passed his cage daily, and the onlything to which he looked forward was his food. This he received each dayat about noon. 

What it all meant, he could not imagine. The great crowds, the blare ofbands, the gala dress and the babel of voices all reminded him of thecountry fairs that he had often attended with Pedro, in the olddancing-bear days. 

The long journeys by rail he soon got used to, so that he was no longersick, but it was a weary existence. The snap and rattle of car-wheelswas continually in his ears, and if it was not that, it was the rattleand the rumble of heavy wheels over paving-stones, the noise of thebrazen-throated circus-band, or the high and insistent calliope. Noise, noise, noise everywhere. 

When the animals were fed, there was the roaring of the lions, thesnapping and snarling of wolves, jaguars, pumas, and the hideous laugh ofthe hyena; the chattering of the monkeys, and the piping and croaking ofstrange, tropical birds. And, more insistent than any of these, thebellowing of the sacred cattle from India, and the belling and bleatingof strange deer, not to mention the cavernous trumpeting of elephantswhen their keepers prodded them into obedience. 

There is but one law in the circus, and that is the law of fear. All thewild beasts are ruled by it alone. The tricks that the great cats do areclubbed into them, and the elephants' ears are often so torn by thetrainer's iron that they hang in ribbons. 

It is only with the domestic animals, like the horses and the trick-dogs, that the trainer can exercise gentle persuasion. So in this great arena, this bedlam of wild beasts, were often heard the blows of club and lash, and the sharp report of pistols fired in the faces of unruly big cats. 

How the two mammoth tents, covering many acres, and a dozen smaller onescame and went was a mystery to the general circus-goer. In the forenoonthey went up like white mountains, and in the evening, almost before thelast spectator had left his seat, they began to come down. Sometimes inhalf an hour after the last whistle had sounded, the tents and all thecircus paraphernalia were packed in wagons and rumbling off to the depot. It was a life of hustle and bustle, jostle and push, here to-day, and ahundred miles away tomorrow. 

The small boy, who was up before the first pale streak of light appearedin the east, and off to the freight-yards to see the four or five longcircus trains come in, could have told you something about the marvelousway in which circus-men handle their strange caravan. There was always acrowd of these enterprising urchins standing wide-eyed and with gapingmouths, while the circus wonders were being unloaded. 

They could have told you that the great gaudy vans were loaded on a trainof flat cars, and that a single horse working a rope and pulley-blocktrundled the vans from the train nearly as fast as their respectiveteamsters could hitch horses to them and drive away. These boys knewthat the stake and chain wagon was always the first to leave the train. Some of them usually fell in behind it and followed to the circusgrounds, for it was good sport to see men with heavy sledge-hammers drivethe many stakes and stretch the long chain which formed the perimeter ofthe mammoth tent, and behind which all the vans would ultimately taketheir places. 

After the stake and chain wagon, came wagons bearing the cooking anddining tents, for breakfast is a most important matter when you have fivehundred hungry people to feed. By nine o'clock the vast concourse wereall on the circus ground, breakfast was over and preparations for thegreat parade were on foot. Nearly everything in the circus, with theexception of the side-shows, had to take part in the parade. 

Only the small boy, who stands upon the pavement, holding to lamp-post oriron hitching-post to steady himself in the wild excitement, can tell youhow his heart races and his blood leaps as the first gilded chariotswings around the corner into the main street. Thoughts of this momenthave been in the boy's mind for weeks, and the realization is alwaysgreater than his anticipation. No matter if it is a small one-horseshow, the hallucination of paint and tinsel, and gleam and glitter arethere, and what a concourse it is! To get together this strange medleyof men and women, beasts, birds and reptiles, the ends of the earth havebeen scoured. All Asia, from Siberia to India is there. Africa isrepresented from the Nile to Cape Town. The steppes of Russia and everyout-of-the-way corner of Europe have been visited by the agents of theshowman, and the result is legion. South America, with the wonders ofthe Amazon and the pampas and the high fauna of the Andes, is there. Ourown continent also contributes largely, for the Rockies and the Selkirksstill hold wonders for the eyes of youth. Even if we could contribute nowild beasts, there would still be ample reward for the boy in viewing ourIndians, cow-punchers and real live scouts, such as our border-life alonecan furnish. 

It was as a feature of such a motley procession as this that BlackBruin's van was daily rattled over the paving-stones and finally took itsplace each day in the mammoth tent behind the chain, in readiness for thenoon feeding. His van always followed that of a den of gray timberwolves and was in turn followed by the great white polar bear. 

Black Bruin often wondered why his large cousin from the Arctic Circlespent so much of his time swaying to and fro. It was a queer trick thathe had, whenever he was not in his tank of water, of forever swaying backand forth, back and forth. Black Bruin often felt fairly frantichimself, and would pace to and fro for hours, but he could see no reliefin this continual swaying. 

Although he had been sold to the circus-agent as a trick-bear, who couldtake stoppers out of bottles and do other marvelous tricks, yet he was somorose during the first summer of his circus life that the keeper coulddo nothing with him as a trick-bear; so he merely paraded as one of thewild beasts. 

Men, women and little children came and went in front of his cage by thethousands and ten thousands. Often the keeper would reach in with astick and poke Black Bruin to make him growl, for this amused thechildren. He soon learned what was expected of him, and would growlalmost before the stick touched him. 

In the hot, stifling summer days, when his cage seemed so cramped andunendurable, how Black Bruin thirsted for the woods, he alone knew. Sometimes he would fall asleep and dream of the old free life, only towake to the torment of his prison-bars. 

There was but one incident during the first year of Black Bruin's circuslife that is worth mentioning. The circus was showing in a fair-sizedcity in Northern New York, in St. Lawrence River County. The day wasexceptionally warm, the crowd was unusually large and the torment ofcaptivity was unusually galling to the wild beasts. 

Black Bruin was restless and paced to and fro in his cage, and sniffedits bars more often than usual. 

Suddenly from out the babel about him a voice spoke that fell pleasantlyon his ear and in the sound was something that he remembered. When thevoice ceased speaking, some psychological reaction slipped a slide in thebrute mind, the impression of which had been gained many years before, and the great bear saw, as plainly as he had seen it then, the farmhousewith the chicken-coops in the front yard, and ducks, geese, turkeys andhens all moving about over the green turf. There was the barn and theoutbuildings and the long low hen-house where he had so often robbed thehens' nests. Then the scene shifted slightly and the dreamer saw theorchard at the back of the farmhouse with its gnarled and twisted treesand the row of little white houses in the shade near by. "Hum, hum, zip--hum, " went the bees flying in from their long quest afield in searchof the heart secret of the floral world. But whether it was the droningof bees or the hum of many voices that he heard Black Bruin could nottell. 

At this point in his reverie he looked through his bars at three of thecircus-goers who were evincing peculiar interest in him. These were aman, a woman, and a boy of about nine years. 

"What a fine bear, " the man was saying; "much larger than the old femalethat I shot on that----" But the man did not finish the sentence, fornoticing the pallor that crept into his wife's face at his words and theshiver that ran through her frame, he desisted. 

"Look here, sonny, " he continued to the boy, "if we had been able to havekept Black Bruin until now he would probably have looked just about likethis old chap. What do you think of that?"

"Whew, " whistled the boy. "Ain't he a monster? Our bear wasn't morethan a quarter as big. "

"No, " replied the man. "That was because he was not grown, but he was afine cub when we let the peddler have him. I have often wondered whatbecame of him. "

"Wasn't Bar-bar cunning, " exclaimed the boy, "when he was a little fuzzyfellow and I used to roll about with him on the floor and pull his ears, just like the photograph you had taken of us. "

"Come, John, let's look at some of the other animals, " said the boy'smother. "Bar-bar was all right, but it gives me the shivers to look at afull-grown black bear like this. " So the three moved on to the wolf-den. 

Black Bruin sniffed the bars of his cage where the man's hand had restedupon it for a moment, as the three moved away. The man-scent too awokestrange memories which he could not understand. It was like coming upona well-remembered spot in a stream where he had once captured a largesalmon, or some burrow under a stump where he had dug out a lucklessrabbit. But soon even the remembrance of the pleasant voices, that insome strange way suggested something dim and distant, was forgotten, theman-scent on the bars of his cage was obliterated, and Black Bruin wasback in the old rut, bumping and thumping over paving-stones and seeinghis van continually being rolled on or off the flat car which carried it. 

Finally the long hard trips were over for that season and the circus wentinto winter quarters. 

This winter Black Bruin did not hibernate as he usually did, but spentthe time in a series of short naps. Each day he came forth from hisimprovised den to stretch and to eat. Toward spring, by dint of muchcoaxing and liberal rewards of sugar and honey, the keeper got upon goodterms with him and finally discovered most of his tricks. 

When the next season opened, the prisoner found that he was to have alittle more freedom and a rather more varied existence than that of theyear before. 

Upon the circus bills he appeared as Napoleon Bonaparte, the wonderfultrick-bear; and there was a striking and astonishing picture of him inthe act of opening a bottle and drinking from it. 

Small boys stood spellbound before this picture, and they were still moreastonished when the real live bear was led into the ring and marched upand down with a wooden gun upon his shoulder, while the performance ofhis bottle-trick always created a rustle all over the tent. This was thesurest sign of a great hit. 

So now each day, in addition to appearing in the grand cavalcade and thestreet-parade, Black Bruin had to come into the ring each afternoon andevening and go through his senseless tricks. 

The only thing that kept him good-natured and up to the mark, was thefact that his bottle was always filled with some pleasing drink, so hehad that to look forward to after each performance of the trick. Therewere also sweets in waiting for him when he came out of the ring. 

Thus went the endless round. Here to-day and there to-morrow. In theevening a magic city of white tents would be seen upon the grounds, butby midnight all had been stowed away in four or five long trains, whichsoon were thundering over the rails to a distant city, where for the pastthree weeks posters had announced the coming of the circus. 

Thus the days and weeks of Black Bruin's second year in the circus passedand they concluded the season at Nashville, Tennessee. Then all theparaphernalia was loaded with even more care than usual, for they wereoff for the long trip northward, to their winter quarters. 

That night when they loaded the elephants and the trick-ponies, some ofthem hung back and refused to board the train, a tendency most unusual ontheir part; but they finally obeyed the goad and lash and all were stowedaway in their customary places. 

It was about midnight when the train bearing Black Bruin's van pulledout. One by one the cars bumped over the switch and the long train gotunder way. At first the locomotive puffed and panted as though the loadwere too great for it, but finally the train got up momentum and thecar-wheels sang their old song of rat-a-clat-rat-a-clat-rat-a-tat-tat, while the engine assumed its familiar song of

 "Rushing, pulling, snatch the train along, Tugging, pulling, locomotive strong. "

This is the song that a locomotive always sings when it is off for along, hard pull. 

On, on through the darkness the train sped, the engine sending forthshowers of sparks that twinkled in the gloom like fireflies, and thenwent out. 

But the most conspicuous thing about the train was the headlight, whichthrew its long cylindrical shaft of light far ahead, like a mighty augerof fire boring into the darkness. No matter how hard the engine puffedand panted or how fast the drivers thundered over the rails, this brightcylinder of light was always just so far ahead, illuminating the gleamingrails, flashing into deep cuts, lighting up cliffs and forest, and longstretches of open fields. 

Black Bruin was not asleep in his cage, as he usually was on longjourneys like this. Somehow, he felt restless and ill at ease. Hesniffed his bars often, but the heavy shutters were down and no sign offreedom was at hand. Yet in some unaccountable manner, the wind suckingthrough the cracks between the shutters blew fresher and sweeter thanusual. It tasted of pine-woods and deep tangles of swamp-land, where allthe roots that a bear likes grow. 

The train had left the low-lying lands far behind and was coming into thefoothills--those friendly steps by which tired feet climb to themountains above. It was rushing down a steep grade, traveling by its ownmomentum, upon a rather precipitous pathway cut in a side hill, whensomething happened. Perhaps it was a broken rail, or maybe a greatboulder had toppled down the mountainside and lay upon the track; but theimportant thing was that suddenly, without a second's warning, the enginebucked like a balky broncho, and after one or two mad plunges along theroadbed, toppled over the bank and rolled into the gulley below. At thefirst impact of the locomotive with the long train behind it, the freightarched its back and writhed and twisted like a mighty serpent. Three ofthe cars went over the bank still attached to the engine and the restpiled up on one another or rolled down into the gulley, as fate willed. There was crash upon crash and thunder upon thunder as the heavy carspiled in a frightful heap. There was the groan of iron and steel beingbent and broken, and the crash and creak and crackle of breaking, grinding car-floors. 

When we add to this the roar of lions, the shrieking of horses, thetrumpeting of elephants, the snarling and snapping of wolves, jaguars, hyenas and a chorus of other cries from the circus bedlam, the roar ofsteam as it escaped through an open valve in the locomotive, and theshriek of the whistle which blew continually, we can get some idea of thewreck, as the gorgeous splendor of the barbaric show was piled in ruins. 

It was such sights and sounds as these that greeted Black Bruin as hesqueezed through the battered, broken door of his cage into freedom. Hehad felt himself rolling over and over. First he was upon the bottom ofhis cage and then standing upon the inverted roof. Three times he bumpedfrom the top to the bottom and back again in rapid succession. What didit mean? His van had never acted like this. 

It was all so quick that he merely emitted a frightened bawl or two andlay still, cowering in the corner of his cage. Then in someunaccountable way he became aware that his cage-door was open. His backwas to it, but the wind that blew in upon him, was the wind of the woodsand the waters, and not the stifling, filtered wind of his prison. 

As this sense was borne in upon him, Black Bruin lost no time inscrambling out through the opening. 

His first act on coming forth into the open air with the moon and thestars and the free sky above him, was to stretch. He then looked abouthim as though uncertain what was coming next. 

As he stood irresolute, looking first at the wreck and then away to theoutline of a great mountain that stretched above him, seeming to reach upinto the very heavens, the long, lithe form of a panther slipped by himand melted into the darkness. A moment later a jaguar followed it; theywere going back to freedom. 

Then Black Bruin stretched his nose high in air and sniffed the freshuntamed winds. They were sweet with the scent of the southern pine. Suggestions of the persimmon fruit were also there and the tantalizingodor of witch-hazel and other sweet scents that the bear knew not. Therewas a clump of underbrush just ahead and into it Black Bruin crashed. 

Weeds swished as he passed and the brush whipped his face. With bushesparting and grasses and weeds bending at his coming, the old sense offreedom came surging back to the escaped prisoner and he stretched outhis strong muscles, which had been so long cramped in the cage, andshuffled up the side of the mountain at his best pace. Through thicketsand brambles he crashed with a wild exultation; up precipitate crags helabored with feverish excitement and frenzy that grew with each moment. He sniffed at the rustling fronds and mosses as he passed, with wilddelight. How fresh, how new, how satisfying the wilderness was!

Now racing through deep gulches, and now scrambling up steep bluffs withsheer delight of motion, he fled. 

At last the moon set and the stars faded and from the heart of theCumberland Mountains, near the top of one of its most jagged andunfrequented spurs, Black Bruin beheld his first sunrise in southernskies. 

Slowly the east warmed and glowed until at last the golden disk mountedover the top of a twin peak and gilded the mountain upon which BlackBruin stood with a flood of golden sunlight. Birds began to twitterstrange songs in the tree-tops and thickets and the high peak sang forjoy at the sun's coming. 

At this auspicious moment, Black Bruin reared upon his hind legs andplacing his forepaws high upon the trunk of a sentinel pine, raked a deepscar in the bark. This was his hall-mark;--the sign by which he tookpossession of the mountain and the surrounding lowlands, just as thediscoverers did of old. 

This land was to be his, where he would dwell and seek his meat and mate, and live the life of a wild beast to the end of his days.