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[Illustration: “NO YOU WON’T, MR. LOUP, FOR MY MOTHER WILL KILL YOU
FIRST”]
_Twilight Animal Series_
BUSTER
THE BIG BROWN
BEAR
By
GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH
_Author of “Bumper the White Rabbit,” “Bumper the White Rabbit in the
Woods,” “Bumper the White Rabbit and His Foes,” “Bumper the
White Rabbit and His Friends,” “Bobby Gray Squirrel,”
“Bobby Gray Squirrel’s Adventures,” Etc._
_Colored Illustrations by
EDWIN JOHN PRITTIE_
[Illustration]
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
CHICAGO PHILADELPHIA TORONTO
TWILIGHT ANIMAL SERIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS
FROM 4 TO 10 YEARS OF AGE
By GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH
LIST OF TITLES
1 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT
2 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT IN THE WOODS
3 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FOES
4 BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT AND HIS FRIENDS
5 BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL
6 BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL’S ADVENTURES
7 BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR
8 BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR’S ADVENTURES
9 WHITE TAIL THE DEER
10 WHITE TAIL THE DEER’S ADVENTURES
11 WASHER, THE RACCOON
(Other titles in preparation)
Issued in uniform style with this volume
PRICE 65 CENTS EACH, Postpaid
EACH VOLUME CONTAINS COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS
Copyright 1922 by
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
Copyright MCMXVII by George E. Walsh
INTRODUCTION TO THE TWILIGHT ANIMAL STORIES
BY THE AUTHOR
All little boys and girls who love animals should become acquainted
with Bumper the white rabbit, with Bobby Gray Squirrel, with Buster the
bear, and with White Tail the deer, for they are all a jolly lot, brave
and fearless in danger, and so lovable that you won’t lay down any one
of the books without saying wistfully, “I almost wish I had them really
and truly as friends and not just story-book acquaintances.” That, of
course, is a splendid wish; but none of us could afford to have a big
menagerie of wild animals, and that’s just what you would have to do
if you went outside of the books. Bumper had many friends, such as Mr.
Blind Rabbit, Fuzzy Wuzz and Goggle Eyes, his country cousins; and
Bobby Gray Squirrel had his near cousins, Stripe the chipmunk and Webb
the flying squirrel; while Buster and White Tail were favored with an
endless number of friends and relatives. If we turned them all loose
from the books, and put them in a ten-acre lot--but no, ten acres
wouldn’t be big enough to accommodate them, perhaps not a hundred acres.
So we will leave them just where they are--in the books--and read about
them, and let our imaginations take us to them where we can see them
playing, skipping, singing, and sometimes fighting, and if we read very
carefully, and _think_ as we go along, we may come to know them even
better than if we went out hunting for them.
Another thing we should remember. By leaving them in the books,
hundreds and thousands of other boys and girls can enjoy them, too,
sharing with us the pleasures of the imagination, which after all is
one of the greatest things in the world. In gathering them together in
a real menagerie, we would be selfish both to Bumper, Bobby, Buster,
White Tail and their friends as well as to thousands of other little
readers who could not share them with us. So these books of Twilight
Animal Stories are dedicated to all little boys and girls who love
wild animals. All others are forbidden to read them! They wouldn’t
understand them if they did.
So come out into the woods with me, and let us listen and watch, and I
promise you it will be worth while.
CONTENTS
STORY PAGE
I When Buster Was a Cub 9
II Buster and Loup 15
III How Buster Got Out of the River 23
IV Buster is Carried Away by the Men 31
V How Buster Was Stolen 39
VI Buster’s Cruel Masters 47
VII Buster Makes His Escape 55
VIII Buster’s First Public Appearance 63
IX Buster Saves Chiquita 71
X Buster Becomes a Trick Bear 79
XI Buster In a Railroad Wreck 87
XII Buster Meets the Little Girl Again 95
XIII Buster and the Little Girl 103
XIV Buster Tries to Escape and is Discovered 111
XV Buster is to be Sent to the Zoo 119
XVI Buster Returns to the North Woods 125
BUSTER THE BIG BROWN BEAR
STORY I
WHEN BUSTER WAS A CUB
In the North Woods where Buster was born, a wide river tinkles merrily
over stones that are so white you’d mistake them for snowballs, if you
were not careful, and begin pelting each other with them. The birches
hanging over the water look like white sticks of peppermint candy,
except in the spring of the year when they blossom out in green leaves,
and then they make you think of fairyland where everything is painted
the colors of the rainbow.
The rocks that slope up from the bank of the river are dented and
broken as if some giant in the past had smashed them with his hammer,
cracking some and punching deep holes in others. It was in one of these
holes, or caves, that Buster was born.
He didn’t mind the hard rocky floor of his bed a bit, nor did he mind
the darkness, nor the cold winds that swept through the open doorway.
He was so well protected by his thick, furry coat that he didn’t need
a soft bed on which to take his nap. A big stone made a nice pillow for
his head, and he rather liked the hard floor for a bed when he curled
up to go to sleep.
Buster was an only child. He didn’t know what a brother or sister was
like, and so he didn’t miss either. He had his mother, who was good
enough for him, and when he was old enough to crawl out on the rocks in
front of his home he would spend hours and hours there playing with her
in the bright sunshine.
Sometimes Mother Bear had to leave him while she went off in the woods
to get something to eat. At such times she made Buster stay in the cave.
“You mustn’t show yourself on the rock, Buster,” she cautioned, “until
you hear me call you. I won’t be gone long.”
Buster was a dutiful little cub, and he accepted his mother’s commands
without asking why or wherefore. Perhaps that was because he was too
young to understand, or because his mother was very strict with her
only child. When he was very young, so young that he could hardly see
at all, his mother used to tell him what to do and then gently but
firmly make him do it, using her big hairy paws to enforce obedience.
These early lessons were never forgotten, and Buster got in the habit
of minding his mother just as naturally as a tree grows straight when
trained upright to a stake. But Buster grew curious as he got older,
and one day when his mother was going away he asked: “Why can’t I play
in front until you come back?”
“Because,” replied Mother Bear, “Loup the Lynx might come along and eat
you up.”
“Who is Loup the Lynx?” asked Buster, turning very pale, for he had a
wholesome dread of being eaten up.
“Never mind, dear. You stay inside until I come back.”
That was a mighty argument of Mother Bear’s to make her child obey. He
was so afraid of Loup the Lynx that he never dared to poke his nose out
of the cave when his mother was away. And sometimes the temptation to
do it was very strong, for as he grew bigger and stronger the sunshine
had a great fascination for him. Nothing in the world seemed pleasanter
than to roll around on the rocks outside, blinking at the warm sun,
and smelling the odors of the sweet flowers. It was springtime then,
and the woods were full of the song of birds and the drone of busy
insects. It made one wish to be outdoors all the time.
“You must be careful today, Buster,” his mother said to him one
morning, “and stay inside the cave. I heard Loup the Lynx hunting
around here last night. I don’t like him. He’s a rough, brutal fellow,
and nearly always up to some mischief. I hate to leave you a minute
today. But I must.”
Buster kept his promise, and remained inside all the morning, playing
with his tail and the few leaves the wind blew in the cave. Toward
noon, however, he got tired of this, and also very hungry. When a bear
is hungry, he becomes very bold and will do things that would never
occur to him at other times.
Buster sniffed in all the corners of the cave for a bite of something
good to eat, but there was nothing more digestible than rocks and
stones. Then he crept nearer the entrance, venturing a little closer
every moment.
A streak of sunlight played on the rocks in front of him, and it so
fascinated him that he began trying to catch it with his little paws.
He had it, then lost it, and then sprang for it again. But the sunlight
danced around, and never stayed caught.
In the midst of this game of tag with the sunlight, Buster heard a
noise outside. It sounded like some animal scuffing heavily over the
rocks, and the little fellow was so sure it was his mother that he ran
out to greet her.
But what a surprise met him! Instead of Mother Bear there stood Loup
the Lynx, crouching and sniffing, with his long tail swishing back and
forth making a noise like a nutmeg grater.
Buster had never seen Loup the Lynx before, but nobody had to tell him
now. He recognized him instantly. His first thought was to run back in
the dark cave. Loup had a great dread of being caught in the cave by
Mother Bear. If he had to fight with a full grown bear he preferred to
be out in the open where he could spring in a tree if knocked over by a
big paw. So he resorted to cunning to induce Buster to come out further.
“Don’t be afraid, Buster,” he said pleasantly. “I’m not going to hurt
you. Your mother was delayed in the woods, and she sent me here to
watch the mouth of the cave so no harm would come to you.”
Buster was surprised at this information, and he stopped to look at
Loup. He didn’t like his face, but if his mother sent him it must be
all right.
“I was watching you playing with that sun-beam,” Loup continued, lying
down with his two paws in front of him. “I used to do that when I was
young, but I’m too old now. I can’t jump around as I used to. Now let
me see if you can catch the sun-beam.”
Buster was less afraid than ever, and he wanted to show Loup how spry
he was. “I can catch it if I want to,” he said boastfully.
“I don’t believe you can. Now let’s see you do it. If you do I’ll tell
your mother when she returns what a spry youngster you are.”
Buster, swelling with pride and ambition, made a dart for the
flickering sun-beam. At the same time Loup leaped into the air, and
landed right at the mouth of the cave, with Buster on the outside.
He was cut off from retreat, and Loup leered so cruelly at him that
a spasm of fear ran down his spine. He wished now that he hadn’t
disobeyed his mother, but it was too late, and he set up a little cry
of terror.
What Loup the Lynx did to him, and how Buster escaped to plunge into
more adventures, will be told in the next story.
STORY II
BUSTER AND LOUP
It was a dreadful position for a little rolly polly bear to be in, with
Loup the Lynx facing him, and his mother away in the woods where she
couldn’t hear his cries. Loup was so sure of his prize that he let him
squeal and cry for some time. It rather amused him.
“What a little howling brat you are!” Loup said finally. “Stop that
squealing or I’ll make you.”
Buster was as much frightened by the tone of the voice as by the words,
and almost instantly stopped calling for his mother. He was a very
young bear--a mere cub--and you could not blame him for crying for
help. Besides he had never been outside of the cave alone before, and
right down in his heart he knew that his disobedience of his mother’s
commands had got him into trouble.
“I’ll stop,” he said, “if you’ll please move away from that doorway and
let me go inside. Mother told me not to come out of the cave when she
was away.”
“Oh, she did!” sneered Loup. “Then you’ve been a bad, wicked cub, and
you deserve to be punished. I think I’ll teach you a lesson.”
“Please don’t, Mr. Loup,” pleaded Buster, who much preferred to be
punished by his mother than this wicked looking animal. “One punishment
will be enough, and I know mother will attend to that.”
Loup laughed and swished his short tail as if he wished it were longer
so he might use it as a whip to punish Buster with.
“No, I’ll punish you too,” he added. “You deserve it. Do you know how I
punish cubs that disobey their mothers?”
Buster didn’t know, and wasn’t particularly anxious to find out. His
one desire was to get back of Loup and escape in the cave where he
might be able to hide until his mother returned. If he could only get
Loup away from the front of the cave, he might run in it.
“Well, I’ll tell you,” Loup added. “I take them by the scruff of the
neck, and shake them until they haven’t breath enough to squeal.”
He grabbed a stone in his jaws and shook it back and forth just to show
how he would do it. The sight made Buster feel faint.
“And then,” went on Loup, “I give them a pat on the back with my paw
like this.”
Loup raised a paw and brought it down on the rock so hard that it made
Buster jump a foot in the air. The blow was so powerful that it seemed
for a moment as if it would crack the rocks. Loup laughed joyfully at
Buster’s fright.
“Now that I’ve shown you what I intend to do with you,” Loup continued,
“you’ll be prepared. Well, I’m coming now to punish you.”
Buster backed away to the edge of the rock.
“And when I’ve cuffed your ears, and shaken out your teeth,” Loup
threatened, “I’m going to eat you. Oh, yes, a young cub makes delicious
eating. I’ll fill my stomach with you.”
For the first time Buster showed a little spirit of defiance. Standing
up on his two hind legs, he said, wagging his head: “No you won’t, Mr.
Loup, for my mother will kill you first. She’s bigger than you, and she
can strike harder than you. My, when she brings her big paw down it
makes the rocks shake! If you touch me she’ll strike you on the head,
and knock you in the river.”
“Huh!” snorted Loup angrily. The fact was he was afraid of Mother Bear,
but he didn’t want Buster to know it, and he tried to make him think so
by boasting. “If your mother should come near me, I’d knock her over.
I could do it easily.”
Perhaps Buster wasn’t convinced by this boastful talk, or may be he
heard something in the bushes that sounded like his mother’s familiar
footsteps. At any rate, he turned suddenly, and clapped his paws.
“Now let me see you do it, Mr. Loup!” he cried. “Here comes mother! She
won’t let you hurt me!”
The way Loup jumped and growled showed that his courage wasn’t so very
great after all. He had no desire to meet Mother Bear, and the thought
he had lost a delicious dinner by talking so long to Buster made him
hungry. For a moment he hesitated. If he jumped on Buster and ran away
with him, Mother Bear would be on his tracks immediately, and if he
stayed he would be cornered in the cave. He decided to take the safest
course.
“Well, if your mother’s coming, Buster,” he said in a changed voice,
“it won’t be necessary for me to stay here with you any longer. You
might tell her I kept guard over the cave while she was away.”
Buster was so surprised by these words that he turned to look at the
Lynx. Loup smiled at him, and added: “Of course, you know this was all
a joke. I didn’t intend to hurt you. I love little bear cubs. That’s
why I came here to protect you. We’ll always be great friends, and when
you grow up I’ll show you the ways of the woods.”
Buster in his innocence believed these soft words, and his feelings
toward Loup took a sudden change. He wasn’t wise enough to follow up
his advantage and let Loup go. Instead he said:
“Don’t go yet, Mr. Loup. I’m not sure mother is coming after all. The
noise in the bushes was just a bird scratching for worms.”
Loup raised his ugly head and glanced around him. His ears were cocked
up so that he could catch the faintest sound in the distance. Then a
smile of satisfaction spread over his face. Turning to Buster he let
out a roar that sounded like distant thunder rumbling in the sky. It
made Buster jump nearly two feet in the air.
“So you were trying to deceive me!” he growled. “You lied to me! You
said your mother was coming when she wasn’t. Then for that I’ll kill
you and eat you up!”
Buster started to protest. “No, no, Mr. Loup, I didn’t lie to you,” he
stammered.
But he couldn’t get any further. Loup had crouched for a spring.
Buster saw his big, dark body coming through the air at him, and very
naturally he ran away crying with fright. Loup seeing that he had
missed him in his spring struck viciously with one paw, and just grazed
Buster’s head. It was only a graze, but it drew blood, and made Buster
whimper with pain.
There was one thing Buster wanted, and that was to get safely inside
the cave, and the moment Loup sprang in the air he started for it. But
Loup was a quick, powerful dodger, and before the cub could reach the
entrance the Lynx had taken another long jump and landed directly in
front of him.
Buster, to escape him, wheeled so suddenly that he rolled all over in a
heap. The rock sloped down toward the water, and the cub rolled down it
so fast that Loup was unable to catch him. It was the only thing that
saved Buster’s life.
He had never been in the river, and he didn’t know whether he could
swim or not, but he much preferred the water to Loup’s dripping jaws.
So instead of trying to check his rolling he kicked out to make himself
go faster.
Loup reached him just as he got at the edge of the rocks, and with one
paw tried to crush his head and body; but again he missed him, and
merely cut a deep gash in Buster’s shoulder. The next moment the cub
splashed into the river, and went down, down, down until it seemed to
him there was no bottom.
In the next story you will hear of how Buster was rescued from the
river.
STORY III
HOW BUSTER GOT OUT OF THE RIVER
Buster had never been in water over his head before, and you can
imagine his feelings when it got in his eyes, mouth, ears and nose. He
coughed and kicked, and made a great splutter, but after all it was
more fright than real danger. He was such a fat little cub that he
couldn’t sink to the bottom, and stay there.
Just when he thought his end had surely come, he bobbed up on the
surface, and his head came out of the water. What a wonderful thing
it was to inhale pure fresh air again! Buster had never realized how
good it was until then! Of course he had always breathed all the air he
wanted, and so having enough he didn’t know what it meant to be without
it for even a few seconds. That’s the way with a lot of things we have
in this world.
Buster inhaled the air in great gulps, filling his lungs until they
swelled up like balloons, and then to his horror he felt himself
sinking. The mere thought of going down in the water again terrified
him. He let out a squeal of fear, and began splashing with all four
paws.
That was the best thing he could do, for a bear can swim without any
lessons if he must do it to save his life. But it was a laughable sight
to Loup the Lynx watching from the shore. Buster’s swimming was clumsy
and awkward.
“Ha! Ha!” laughed Loup gleefully. “Wag your tail, Buster, and maybe
that will help you! Don’t sneeze now, or you’ll swallow all the water
in the river. That’s right, keep going around in a circle.”
It was cruel of Loup to poke fun at him, and Buster thought so too,
but he was so occupied in trying to keep his head above the surface he
didn’t have time to answer.
“Come toward the shore, Buster, and I’ll help you,” Loup called
finally, running down to the edge, and wading knee-deep in the river.
This was the first kindly offer of the Lynx, and once more Buster began
to think Loup was not so wicked after all, but when he had made his way
a few feet toward the shore he stopped. Why was Loup so anxious to save
him? Of course, there was only one explanation to it. He wanted to eat
him up.
Buster turned suddenly and splashed away from the bank. Much as he
dreaded death by drowning, he preferred it to being eaten up by Loup.
“This way, Buster! This way!” called Loup, thinking that the cub had
got turned around and didn’t know which way he was swimming.
Buster made no reply. He saw the opposite shore ahead. It was a long
distance away, but he was going to swim for it. He began splashing
harder than ever.
“I tell you to swim this way!” added Loup, growing suspicious and angry.
Buster continued to head in the opposite direction.
“If you don’t come this way,” angrily cried Loup, “I’ll come after you,
and hold your head under the water until you’re dead.”
Buster more frightened than ever paddled desperately, and he was really
making pretty good time. He was beginning to learn how to swim. The
opposite bank was growing nearer every moment. To his surprise he found
that his strength was not leaving him, and he could keep his head up
better than before. There was a chance of escaping the Lynx.
“You little brat!” shrieked Loup, dancing around in the shallow water.
“I’ll teach you to trick me!”
Loup was an excellent swimmer, but he didn’t like the water. He hated
to get his soft fur wet, for it took a long time to dry it in the sun.
He never took a swim unless forced to it either to catch his victim or
to save his life.
But this was one of those occasions when he had to swim or lose his
prey. Buster was surely escaping him. In a few more minutes he would
be on the opposite shore where he could hide in the bushes until his
mother returned.
“All right!” added Loup finally, making up his mind. “I’m coming for
you!”
These words didn’t frighten Buster nearly so much as the terrible
splash he heard a moment later behind him. It seemed as if the river
rose a foot, and that big waves were dashing against the bank. Loup had
run up a tree leaning over the edge of the river, and launched himself
from it. When his body struck the water it made a loud noise.
Buster made a frantic effort to increase his speed, but once when he
glanced over his shoulder he nearly lost heart. Loup was swimming with
great powerful strokes which brought him closer every second. He didn’t
splash and flounder around in the water as the cub did, but, with all
except his ugly head and long tail under the surface, he moved forward
with the least amount of friction. Loup swam as steadily and easily as
a boat propelled by a screw.
Buster grew frantic with dread. He expected any moment to feel Loup’s
powerful paw crushing down on his head, for right behind him he could
hear the deep breathing of the Lynx. There was no hope--no escape!
“Thought you’d get away from me, Buster, didn’t you?” laughed Loup when
within a few yards of the cub. “Ha! Ha! This is delicious sport! Now
I’m going to duck you and half drown you, and then duck you again.”
“Oh, please, please--” gasped Buster, who was pretty well winded now.
“Please let me go!”
For reply Loup laughed louder than ever. Then Buster thought of a
trick. This time he made it up, for he had heard nothing in the bushes
to make him think his mother was returning. But under the circumstances
you can’t blame him for stretching the truth.
“Oh, Loup, there’s mother coming!” he cried. “I must go to her at once!”
Loup was not deceived this time. He took a cautious peep around him,
and then splashed the water violently with his two front paws.
“You can’t deceive me that way the second time, Buster,” he said. “Your
mother isn’t coming. I’m going to kill you, and then take you up on the
bank and eat you.”
“But, Mr. Loup, I haven’t done anything to you. Won’t you let me go
this time? I’ll promise to be your friend, and--”
“No!” roared the Lynx so loudly that the echo went ringing up and down
the river.
He raised a great paw to grasp Buster, who to escape it dove under the
water and disappeared for an instant; but he couldn’t stay there long,
and when he reappeared there was the menacing paw raised to strike him.
Loup really liked to torture his victims. It wasn’t his nature to kill
them outright. It gave him great pleasure to see them suffer. If he had
struck at Buster at once, he might have killed him in one blow; but
he didn’t, and that was what saved the little bear’s life. There was
rescue at hand which neither one dreamed of.
There was a sudden splash in the water, and then a dull thud as
something hard and heavy struck Loup on the nose. He jumped back with a
scream of rage. At first he thought Buster had played a trick on him,
but when another heavy thing hit him on the back of the head he knew
differently.
From the shore there came excited cries. “Hit him again! Let me try him
this time!”
Loup glanced that way, and understood instantly. Two men were standing
on the shore pelting him with rocks. Two of them had hit him, and
others were coming his way. There was no fight in Loup when caught
in the water, and with a scream of rage he turned and swam for the
opposite bank. He wasn’t going to risk the loss of his life for the
sake of a good dinner.
The next story will tell how Buster met the men, and was carried away
as a captive.
STORY IV
BUSTER IS CARRIED AWAY BY THE MEN
Buster was nearly as much surprised as Loup by the sudden appearance of
the men, but he lacked the strength to turn and swim back to the other
side of the river. Indeed, between fear and his hard struggle he was
almost ready to give up and sink. He felt he couldn’t take many more
strokes even to save his life.
At first he thought the rocks were being hurled at him, but as they
followed Loup half way across the river, the men throwing them until
the Lynx was out of reach, he concluded that maybe he was safer on that
side with the men than on the other with his old enemy. This belief was
strengthened when the men stopped bombarding the Lynx, and turned to
Buster.
“It’s a young bear!” said one of the men.
“Sure! I told you so before. We must save him. Here, little fellow!
Come here! We won’t hurt you!”
Buster looked at them with eyes that seemed ready to pop out of his
head. He was so thankful that the men were not going to hurt him that
he swam straight toward them. One ran out to meet him, and caught him
in his arms.
“The poor little fellow’s hurt,” the man said, noticing the blood
on Buster’s shoulder where Loup’s claw had caught him when he first
tumbled in the river.
“I wish we had a gun to shoot that Lynx,” remarked the other. “I’ll
come back and lay for him.”
The man holding Buster stroked his head and back, as he carried him up
on dry land. “The poor little fellow’s tired out and half dead with
fright,” he added.
“And hungry, too,” said the second man. “We must find him some warm
milk. Got any in the camp?”
“Nothing but condensed milk.”
“Well, we’ll try him with that.”
They carried Buster up to their camp in the woods, and brought out a
can of condensed milk. After warming some of this over the fire, they
gave it to Buster.
Nothing ever tasted so good as that milk, for Buster was cold, tired
and still trembling from fright and weakness. He didn’t know it until
then, but he was dreadfully hungry, so hungry that he couldn’t stop
until he had lapped up the last drop.
The two men watched him in silence, and then patted him on the back.
“You were hungry, little chap, weren’t you?” remarked one. “Well,
that’s enough for the present. We don’t want to make you sick.”
“Oh, give him a bit of this honey-comb for dessert. That won’t hurt
him.”
And then to Buster’s delight, the man handed him something, the very
odor of which sent the blood tingling through his veins. One taste of
it, and Buster was in ecstasy. It was his first taste of honey, and the
grunt of pleasure that escaped his lips sent the men into a roar of
laughter.
“The little chap’s having the time of his life,” one laughed. “Like
Oliver Twist he’ll be begging for more when that’s gone.” Of course,
Buster didn’t know anything about Oliver Twist, but he did know that he
could eat that delicious honey all day, and when the last drop was gone
he did beg for more.
“Stand on your hind legs and ask for it, and I’ll give it to you,” said
the man.
Buster didn’t know exactly what he meant, but it was much easier to
reach up to the hand containing the honey when he stood on two legs,
and he unconsciously obeyed.
“Now ask for it.”
Buster opened his mouth and snapped at it, but the hand was raised
beyond his reach. Then, disappointed, he uttered a little cry of
eagerness. To his surprise the man gave him the honey.
“That’s right,” he laughed. Then turning to his companion, he added:
“I’m going to teach him tricks, Jim. You can teach a young cub almost
anything if you begin early enough.”
All this was strange talk to Buster, but he had learned the first
lesson of his new life--the trick of begging. After that when he wanted
milk or honey or anything else, he stood up on his hind legs and
grunted or cried for it. He found that he always got what he wanted in
this way.
With his little stomach full of rich milk and sweet honey, Buster grew
very sleepy, and when he curled up to rest one of his rescuers spread a
warm blanket over him. In a few minutes he was lost in slumberland.
[Illustration: HE STOOD ON HIS HIND LEGS AND CRIED FOR IT]
When Buster awoke he had a queer sensation of being carried in a
hammock or something equally soft and comfortable. It was so different
from his hard bed on the rocks! His first thought was that it was
all part of a dream, but remembering his experience with Loup the Lynx
he shuddered, and set up a call for his mother. He was frightened, and
whimpered so loudly that the man carrying him opened the blanket and
peeked in.
“What is it, Buster?” he asked, addressing him by the very name his
mother had always called him. “Hungry again?”
Buster was indeed hungry again, but he was also homesick and wanted his
mother. He kept on whimpering when the man took him out of the blanket
and patted him.
“Oh, give him something to eat, Bill, and stop his crying,” said the
man’s companion.
So they stopped long enough to feed him again, and after that Buster
felt less homesick, and, it must be confessed, forgot his mother. The
men began playing with him, and Buster rolled over and gnawed at a
stick for them until they roared with laughter.
“Do you know, Jim,” said one of his captors, “we’ve got a rich prize in
that cub. He’s the most intelligent little chap I ever saw. I wonder
where he came from.”
“Probably his mother was killed, and that Lynx knew it, and was trying
to make a dinner off him.”
“I’d like to get a crack at that lynx some day.”
“So would I. But I’m mighty glad we saved the cub. He’ll make a fine
pet. He’s as playful as a dog.”
Buster was a little startled to hear that his mother had probably been
killed. That would account for her not returning to the cave when he
called her. Had Loup killed her? No, Buster didn’t think so, for his
mother was big and powerful, and could easily knock a lynx over with
one blow from her paw. Then who was her murderer, or wasn’t she dead?
These questions were too hard for Buster to answer, and he soon stopped
trying to think of them. Meanwhile, he was safe and well fed, and
his two captors liked him. Why should he worry about something that
couldn’t be helped?
At night time the men came to a cabin near the edge of the woods, and
Buster was given a warm blanket in one corner of it. He watched them
cook their evening meal, and ate whatever they fed him. The bacon
sizzling in the frying pan smelt so good that Buster poked his nose in
it, and then drew back with a howl of pain. It burnt his little nose
and brought the tears to his eyes.
“Let that be a lesson, Buster, not to poke your nose in things that
don’t belong to you,” laughed one of the men. Then he handed him a
piece of bacon well cooked, and not too hot. Buster swallowed it in one
gulp.
“What are you going to do with the little fellow, Jim?” suddenly asked
one of the men. “You know we can’t keep him in the city.”
“I’ve thought of that,” replied the other slowly. “The only thing we
can do is to sell him. He ought to be worth something.”
This was the first hint to Buster that he wasn’t always going to live
with his captors, and it made him very sad. When bears were sold, what
became of them? Buster didn’t know, and he went to sleep very troubled.
But he wasn’t sold after all, and in the next story you will hear how
he was stolen.
STORY V
HOW BUSTER WAS STOLEN
Buster remained three whole days in the camp with the two men who had
saved him from Loup the Lynx, and during that time he learned many
things that his mother had never taught him. For one thing he learned
manners.
One day he stuck his nose in the pot of soup on the table and began
licking it up until a hand grasped him by the neck, and jerked him
back. “Buster, you’ve got to learn your manners, and the time to
begin is when you’re young,” said the man who held him. “Now I must
punish you so you’ll never stick your nose in the soup again without
remembering it.”
With that two sharp blows from a small stick landed on Buster’s nose.
He yelped with pain, and tried to run away, but his captor held him.
“The next time you will get three blows instead of two,” he added
gravely. Buster never repeated the offence.
For another thing he learned it paid to be obliging. When the men
asked him to jump over a stick or dance on his hind legs, he received a
double lump of sugar if he promptly obeyed. A little extra dance, or a
new kind of trick, always brought something to reward him. Buster was
shrewd enough to connect the two together--the trick and the reward.
But there was one thing he hadn’t learned, and it got him in trouble
again just as it did that day when he disobeyed his mother in leaving
the cave when she was away. The men had to go away for a few hours, and
they shut Buster up in the cabin, with the remark:
“You stay in here, Buster, and watch the camp. We’ll be back soon.”
“Better close that window, Jim,” remarked the other. “He might climb up
to it and get out.”
“No, it will be too hot in here. Besides, I think we can trust Buster.
He won’t try to get out.”
Of course, when they left Buster had no intention of disobeying. He
was satisfied to curl up in a corner of the cabin and sleep until they
returned; but they were gone for a long time, and late in the afternoon
he got very restless.
“I’ll climb up there and look out,” he said to himself, glancing up at
the window. “They didn’t tell me not to do that.”
To reach the window he had to climb up on the stout table, and jump
from that to the broad window-sill. This feat wasn’t so difficult, for
Buster had learned to use his claws with great skill in climbing. The
jump to the window-sill was a short one, but he nearly missed it, and
had to scramble desperately to prevent a fall.
Once on the window-sill, however, he was well repaid for his trouble.
It was a beautiful day outside, and the woods smelt so sweet and
attractive that Buster felt a strange longing to get out there and
roll around among the leaves. But he wasn’t going to do it. No, he
remembered the words of his captors, and while he had made no promise
he intended to obey them.
Just the same when Groundy the Woodchuck came along and cast a long
shadow in front of the window, Buster leaned so far out that he nearly
lost his balance. Groundy glanced up, and at first was startled and
ready to run; but when he saw that Buster was no more than a cub, only
a little larger than himself, he stopped and spoke to him.
“What are you doing up there?” he asked. “You don’t live in that house,
do you? If you don’t look out the owners will come along and catch
you.”
“They’ve caught me already,” replied Buster. “That’s why I’m here,
Groundy.”
“Oh, then you’re a prisoner!” sighed Groundy. “I’m sorry for you. Are
you tied by a chain?”
“Indeed, I’m not! They don’t chain me up. I’m not a prisoner, either.”
Groundy looked at him in silence, not quite able to understand. Buster
was grinning at him as if he enjoyed his perplexity. Finally, Groundy
said:
“I can’t believe you, Buster. But there’s one way to show me. If you’re
not a prisoner, tied by a chain, climb down here. Then I’ll believe
you.”
“I can’t--” began Buster, and then stopped. Of course, if he said that
Groundy would go away convinced that he was actually chained inside the
window.
“I thought so,” nodded Groundy. “Well, I’m sorry for you. I must be
going now.”
“Wait a minute!” called Buster. “I’ll climb down just to show you, but
I can’t stay.”
It really wouldn’t do any harm, he thought, to climb down and right
back again to show Groundy that he was free. He would do it so quickly
that he would be back in the cabin again before any one saw him.
Groundy was waiting for him, and Buster couldn’t disappoint him now.
He dropped easily to the ground under the window, and cried: “How was
that for a jump, Groundy! You couldn’t do better, could you?”
“No, but the thing that puzzles me is, how are you going to get back
again? Anybody can jump down a hill, but not many can jump up it. Can
you jump back to the window-sill?”
Buster had not given much thought to this. He looked up, and the window
was so high above his head he knew that he could never jump half the
way.
“I don’t know,” he stammered. “But maybe I can climb back. I’ve got
good claws, and I can climb a tree.”
“That may be, Buster, but you can’t climb the side of a house,” replied
Groundy. “If you can I’ll watch you.”
Groundy squatted down, and Buster anxious to show how well he could
climb started to go up the side of the house; but a bear hugs a tree
when climbing it, and Buster couldn’t get his paws around the cabin any
more than he could fly to the moon. He made several attempts to dig his
claws in the logs to pull himself up, but each time he tumbled back to
the ground before he could reach half way. But he wasn’t going to give
up trying right away, and again and again he made the attempt until
completely exhausted.
“You can’t do it, Buster,” remarked Groundy finally, rising to his
feet. “I knew you couldn’t. It’s easier to roll down a hill than roll
up it.”
Buster was greatly disappointed, and he looked around to find something
that he could roll under the window and climb up that way; but a noise
in the woods suddenly startled Groundy.
“Someone’s coming,” he whispered. “I must be going. Better come with
me, Buster.”
“No,” was the reply. “I live here now, and I won’t run away just
because I disobeyed and got in trouble.”
Perhaps it would have been better for him had he accepted Groundy’s
invitation; but he didn’t know that, and it was to his credit that he
stayed. He knew that he had done wrong in climbing out of the window,
but two wrongs don’t make a right, and Buster decided that he would
face his masters and let them punish him if they wanted to.
But he received a severe shock the next minute. A stranger appeared
around the side of the cabin, and another on the other side. They were
not pleasant looking. They were very unlike the two men who had rescued
him from the river.
“Head him off!” shouted one. “Don’t let him get away!”
Buster was too surprised and frightened to run, and before he knew it
he was caught by four stout arms and something thick and blinding was
thrown over his head. He grunted and squealed, but nobody seemed to
hear him. He was picked up and carried swiftly away in the woods and
for a long time he was jounced and pounded about in a thick blanket
that completely covered him.
When he finally got a peek of daylight again, he was in a strange
place, with two evil-looking faces bending over him. In the next story
you will hear about Buster’s new masters.
STORY VI
BUSTER’S CRUEL MASTERS
Buster was so enraged at the treatment he had received that the moment
one of the men touched him he growled and snapped at the hand. He had
nearly suffocated in the blanket, and all the way through the woods he
had been bounced and jounced around cruelly. His captors had seemed to
take delight in tormenting him.
So you cannot exactly blame him for being very angry when one of the
men poked him in the ribs with a hand. The hand was quickly withdrawn
the moment Buster snapped at it.
“The little beast,” snarled the owner of the hand. “I’ll teach him to
bite!”
Before Buster knew what was coming, he was slapped over the head with
a stout stick. It stunned him for a moment, and he lay very quiet. But
when he got back his senses, he showed his teeth again and sprang for
the man.
This time he was knocked over and kicked about the room until he ached
in every bone. His two captors came for him with short, stout sticks,
which they used freely. Again and again Buster sprang at them, and
tried to bite them, but each time he was knocked down.
You see, Buster was only a cub, and he was no match for two full grown
men, but he had the spirit of his wild ancestors in him, and he fought
until he was hardly able to stand up. Then he dropped down sullen and
resentful, beaten into silence, but with his spirit still flaming with
anger.
From that day began a new life for Buster. He was no longer treated
kindly and coaxed to do tricks. Every time he failed to do what his
captors demanded of him he was kicked and cuffed about, and when he
obeyed them he was not rewarded by any sugar or honey.
Indeed, he never tasted either of these sweet things. What he had to
eat were scraps of bread or meat which the men threw to him after they
had eaten all they wanted. Instead of having the freedom of a cabin, he
was kept chained up in a small, dark hut.
And what a hut it was! It was dirty and smelly, with scarcely any sun
or daylight in it. At night time the men lighted a dirty old lamp or a
smelly candle which spluttered and dripped without giving much light.
His bed was the bare, hard floor, with nothing for a covering except a
few whisps of straw.
Buster rebelled at all this treatment. He couldn’t get used to it. The
men never spoke a kind word to him, nor ever patted him on the back in
a friendly way. They whipped him for the slightest thing, and made him
so afraid of them that finally he ran whenever one of them approached.
But even this wasn’t the worst of his captivity. In a short time his
captors began to teach him to dance and do tricks, but not in the
gentle way his former friends did. They put a muzzle on his nose so he
could not bite any one, and tied a chain to his neck. Then with a long
pole, one end of which was sharpened, they prodded him into dancing. If
he didn’t dance fast enough to suit them they jabbed him with the sharp
pole, and sometimes when he was so tired he could hardly stand they
made him stand on his head and turn a somersault.
As a reward for all this Buster was given a few dry crusts of bread and
a drink of water, but never any honey or sugar. At night time, sore and
tired, he would curl up in the corner of his room, and think of the
past. With tears in his eyes, he thought of his happy home in the cave,
of his mother who was so kind to him, of Loup the Lynx, and of the two
men who had saved him from the river, and fed him with rich milk and
sugar and honey.
Oh, how he wished he was back with them or at home in the cave with
his mother! But wishing wouldn’t help him, and after a while he began
planning a way to escape. He decided to be good, and obey his cruel
masters, but the first chance he had he would run away from them.
After that Buster became a model bear. He tried to please his masters,
not because he liked them, but because he was waiting for the chance
to run away. He was really a very bright bear, and within a couple of
months he could do many tricks and stunts. He was given a tin cup,
which he was taught to hold out to people, and when pennies were placed
in it he bowed and carried them to the man with the pole.
One day he was taken out on the streets, and was led along until they
came to some children playing. One of his masters played a wheezy old
organ, while the other shook the chain and told Buster to dance.
Now dancing out in the fresh air, with children watching him and
clapping their hands, was very much pleasanter than in his dirty room,
and Buster enjoyed it. He danced as he never did before, and when
the man holding the chain told him to stand on his head and turn a
somersault he obeyed promptly.
There was a clapping of hands, and a shout of pleasure came from all
sides. Buster got to his feet, bowed, and repeated the performance.
Then a little girl, holding the hand of a gentleman, approached Buster
and handed him a stick of candy.
It was time for him to pass the tin cup for pennies, but Buster was so
pleased with the little girl’s attention, and so hungry for something
sweet, that he forgot his duties and took the candy. But before he
could put it in his mouth the man with the chain jerked him back and
prodded him with the sharp pole.
Buster grunted with pain and hurriedly picked up the tin cup. A shout
of anger went up from the crowd, and the gentleman holding the little
girl’s hand spoke sharply to Buster’s master. Then he picked up the
stick of candy and handed it to Buster, who took it and tucked it in
his mouth. How sweet and delicious it tasted! It made him think of the
days when he was kept in the cabin with the two campers who had rescued
him from the river.
Once more there came a jerk on the chain, and the pole prodded him in
the side. He had forgotten to pass the tin cup for pennies. The candy
had made him forget his duties.
Now it was not Buster’s fault that the crowd didn’t fill his cup with
pennies. Indeed, it was because they knew the money was to go to the
two men and not to Buster that the people refused to pay.
“They don’t deserve anything!” somebody said. “They’re cruel to the
poor creature! Don’t give them anything!”
Buster made a complete circle of the double row of men, women and
children, but not a penny was dropped in his cup. When he returned,
finally, and handed the empty cup to his master he was greeted by an
angry cuff. There was an angry growl from the people, and the men
fearing trouble led Buster away, jerking him hard with the chain.
But that wasn’t the last of his punishment. That night when he got home
Buster was sent to bed without even his crust of bread. The men were
angry because he hadn’t collected many pennies for them, and like many
other people in this world they laid all the blame of their failure
upon another. Buster was the scape-goat.
In the middle of the night, Buster thought of the little girl who had
given him the stick of candy, and groaning with pain and hunger he
made up his mind to run away very soon and find the girl if he had to
travel half around the world. She would at least be kind to him, and
that was all he wanted. On the very morrow he would plan a way to get
out of the hut and begin his search for the girl with brown eyes and
dimples in her cheek.
Buster gets away in the next story, but he joined a circus instead of
finding the little girl who had been kind to him.
STORY VII
BUSTER MAKES HIS ESCAPE
Buster had been growing rapidly all this time, and instead of being
a little cub he was nearly as tall as his mother and as broad as a
Newfoundland dog. A few months had made a tremendous difference in his
size and strength.
But he was hardly aware of this change. He still thought of himself as
a little bear, but had Loup the Lynx seen him now it is doubtful if he
would have been so free to attack him. Loup had a wholesome respect for
a full grown bear. It was only the young cubs that he liked to tackle
and eat.
But if Buster wasn’t aware of his growing size and strength his two
captors were. That was why they kept him chained up at night and always
carried a long pointed pole when they took him out on the street. They
were afraid that some day Buster would realize his strength, and then
all would be up with their control of him.
The day came, however, when Buster suddenly found that his muscles
were powerful and his strength greater than that of his masters. They
had been traveling all day from one small town to another, gathering
in a few pennies here and there, and resting by the way-side whenever
opportunity offered. It was a hot day, and the road was dusty and rough.
When they came to a small brook the sight of the cool, sweet water
brought to Buster’s mind pictures of the broad river that ran in front
of the cave where he was born. A great desire to plunge in the stream
and wallow in the cool water seized him. With this idea in mind he
quickened his pace, and started down the embankment.
A sudden jerk of the chain around his neck brought him to his senses,
but with an angry toss of the head he continued on, dragging the man
behind him. In vain the man tugged at the chain, shouting to his
companion, who came up and began prodding Buster with the sharp end of
the long pole.
But Buster wanted to get in the brook. Nothing in all his life had
ever appealed so much to him. The dust and dirt in his mouth, ears and
nose irritated him. Instead of stopping he slapped at the pole and
continued on his way.
Then something happened that aroused him to fury. The man gave him
such a vicious jab with the sharpened pole that it made him grunt and
squeal. Heretofore such cruel treatment had always cowered Buster, but
it had an opposite effect on him now. It aroused his fury.
With a quick, lightening-like stroke he grasped the pole in his two
paws, and before either of his captors could recover from their
surprise he snapped it in two. It was all done so quickly that even
Buster was surprised.