smiled, and leered at the men. Something in their eyes attracted his
attention. It was fear! Buster read it as clearly as if it had been
printed there in large letters.
His captors were afraid of him! They had lost their pointed pole, and
thus disarmed they were no longer able to torment. Buster was the
master of the situation. A great feeling of exultation swelled up in
him. His eyes gleamed and flashed.
Then with a roar he turned on the one holding the chain and struck
savagely at him. What happened filled Buster with glee. The man
dropped the chain and fled with cries of fright. Buster pursued a few
yards, and then sat down on his haunches and laughed.
“Ho! Ho! They’re afraid of me!” he said. “I won’t have to be their
slave any more! All I’ve got to do is to growl at them, and strike
them!”
He got up and strutted around. He was a free bear once more. Never more
would he be a captive. He waddled down to the brook and plunged into
the cool water. He washed and drank and gurgled to his heart’s content.
Once or twice his captors approached, and tried to coax him out, but he
turned on them with a snarl and made them run away again.
Then they disappeared entirely, and Buster was left alone to enjoy his
bath. But his freedom wasn’t to last for long, although he didn’t know
it at the time.
Now as it happened there was a circus in the town a few miles back, and
his two masters who cared more about the money value of Buster than
anything else, decided that it was a good chance to make a bargain.
They knew that they would never be able to control their half-grown
bear once he had discovered his strength and power. He was henceforth
useless for their work.
But a circus was different. Buster would be valuable in the circus
either as a trick animal or as a dangerous man-eating creature that had
to be kept caged all the time. People would pay money to view a bear
that no man could tame. Of course, Buster was no such wild animal, and
he had no intention of killing any one, but the fact that he had broken
away from captivity and refused to be captured again furnished the
foundation for a story that he was a wild, desperate animal that could
not be tamed.
Buster was lying on the grass near the brook, enjoying a quiet snooze,
when he was startled by the appearance of half a dozen men armed with
sticks and pitchforks. He raised his head and looked mildly at them.
Behind walked the two men who had cruelly tormented him.
“There he is!” shouted one. “Look out for him, or he’ll jump on you!”
Buster growled when he heard that familiar voice, and rose on his two
hind legs to face the approaching crowd. Some of them stopped and
refused to go any further; but two or three approached warily. They
were armed with clubs and pitchforks, but one of them carried a long
rope looped over an arm. Buster didn’t know what this was for, and he
turned his attention to the men with the clubs.
He growled and stepped toward them. They retreated a few steps--all
except the man with the rope. He seemed cool and unafraid. Buster eyed
him curiously when he raised an arm and twirled the rope over his head.
He even watched the rope circle in the air and come toward him.
It was not until the rope looped over his head and settled on his
shoulders that he understood; but it was too late then. The man jerked
it, and Buster felt something around his neck that choked him almost
to death. He tore at it with his paws, but before he could rip it off
another from behind caught him.
Buster fought fiercely for a few moments, but when the men armed with
pointed sticks and clubs ran in and began prodding him sharply every
time he tore at the rope he began to grow afraid again. He was no match
for all these men, especially when his neck was being squeezed so that
he could barely draw a decent breath.
When he quieted down, the men stopped prodding him, and Buster soon
found that it didn’t pay to fight against such heavy odds. Only when
his former captors came near him did he growl and show signs of anger.
Buster was led back a few miles and placed in a cage with iron bars.
There was plenty of food and water in the cage, and he was glad to get
inside with the ropes off his neck. Buster had joined the circus!
But would his new life be happier than the old? Had he jumped from
the frying-pan into the fire, or were there days ahead when he could
enjoy life once more without the fear of being beaten for every little
mistake? He didn’t know, but he slept soundly and peacefully that night
even if he was a prisoner in an iron cage.
What happened to him in the circus will form part of the next story,
called Buster’s First Public Appearance.
STORY VIII
BUSTER’S FIRST PUBLIC APPEARANCE
The cage in which Buster was kept was rather small, but it was clean
and fresh, with plenty of straw on the bottom, and a blanket stretched
on one side to shield him from the draft. There were other cages in the
place, and after the first night he began to get acquainted with their
occupants.
On his right there was an old Lion, who had lost most of his teeth and
much of his hair. He snored so loudly the first night that Buster was
twice awakened by what he thought was the roll of thunder. When morning
dawned he asked the Old Lion if he always snored like that.
“Yes, when I’m asleep, but when I’m awake I snore like this.”
To Buster’s surprise he opened his mouth and let out a roar that shook
the whole place and started every animal crying and snarling. Spot the
Leopard, who was caged on Buster’s left, growled and spit ferociously
as he sprang from one side of his cage to the other. But the Old Lion
sat back on his haunches and roared with laughter.
“What did you do that for?” asked Buster, when the wild commotion began
to subside.
“Just to show you how I snore in the day time,” was the retort. “You
want to hear it again?”
“No, thank you, once is enough.”
“Well, if you say so, I won’t,” replied the Old Lion. “But after you’ve
been here a long time you’ll be glad to hear me roar. It breaks up the
monotony. There’s nothing else to do, you know, and it gets dreadfully
tiresome doing nothing. Heigh-o! it’s a dull life!”
He yawned and stretched himself. Spot the Leopard on the other side
stopped his snarling, and glanced between his bars at Buster. He was
interested in this new-comer, and he continued to stare so long that
Buster finally smiled back at him and nodded his head.
“How did they catch you?” Spot asked suddenly.
“With a rope,” replied Buster. “I wasn’t expecting it, and they dropped
it over my head before I could run.”
Spot spit and snarled again to show his temper. “They caught me when I
was a cub,” he said. “They wouldn’t have caught me if I was full grown.
They’re afraid of me now. Every time my trainer comes in I snarl and
snap at her. She snaps the whip in my face, and I pretend to be afraid
of it. But I’m not! I’m just waiting my chance. Some day I’ll pounce on
her, and then--”
He swished his long tail and licked his lips, while his eyes glowed
balefully.
“What sort of a trainer have you?” asked Buster. “Is she good to you?”
“There she comes now,” whispered Spot. “You can see for yourself.”
Buster turned and saw a young woman, dressed in a dazzling, sparkling
costume of many colors, with a small cap surmounting her golden hair,
and a thick, rawhide whip in her hand. There was a fearless look in the
dark eyes, and when she strode up to Buster’s cage she surveyed him
quite calmly. Buster returned her stare, and blinked two or three times.
“He doesn’t look so ugly,” the woman said finally, addressing one of
the attendants. “If I know anything about bears, I should say he was
naturally good-humored. But of course you can’t tell. His temper may
have been ruined by some one. His name is Buster, you say?”
She walked up to the cage and stuck a hand between the bars and patted
the shaggy head. “Well, Buster, we’re either going to be friends or
enemies,” she added. “Which is it?”
Buster couldn’t reply right away, so surprised was he, but
unconsciously he stuck out his tongue and licked the hand. How soft and
velvety it felt! Instead of drawing the hand away, she permitted him to
lick it again. Then she smiled.
“You can see,” she said, speaking to the attendant, “he’s answered my
question. We’re going to be friends. Now open the door for me. I’m
going inside.”
Once more Buster was surprised, but not nearly so much as the
attendant. “Don’t do it, Chiquita,” he said in alarm. “He’s not to be
trusted. He’s a vicious brute.”
Chiquita smiled and put on her gloves.
“Do I need your advice, Billy,” she said, “when it comes to training
animals? Now please open the door.”
“But, Chiquita, you will wait until I summon the attendants to protect
you if he attacks you.”
“No, I’m going in now.”
She opened the door herself and stepped in the cage. Buster watched
her with eyes of admiration and surprise. He had no fear of her. This
dainty little creature could not hurt him. Indeed, she looked so slight
and helpless that he felt more like protecting her than hurting her.
She came up to him and rubbed his nose. He grunted with pleasure. Then
she patted his head and talked to him in a low, sweet voice. Then she
asked him to get down, and when he obeyed she sat on him. She touseled
his head, opened his mouth and stuck a hand in it, and finally patted
him again, and said:
“He’s all right, Billy, as harmless as a kitten. We’ll put him in the
circus tonight in place of poor old Bowser.”
Billy, the attendant, wasn’t convinced of the wisdom of this course,
and shook his head, but Chiquita laughed and walked out of the cage.
Buster didn’t know just what they meant, for he had never been in a
circus before, but that evening he learned.
He was wheeled into a brilliantly lighted place and stopped alongside
of a big circular cage containing nearly a dozen other animals. There
was the Old Lion, Spot the Leopard, Boar the Hound, Timber the Wolf,
Ocelot the Jungle Cat, and several others which he did not instantly
recognize.
His coming started up a commotion among the animals, for just like
people they were curious and inquisitive. They eyed him furtively and
sniffed at him. But without noticing them he waddled across the big
cage and took a vacant place near the Old Lion.
Then something happened that dazzled him. The curtain around the big
circular cage disappeared, and a sea of human faces were visible on
every side. The lights went up, and the whole place seemed like a
wonderful picture.
The next moment Chiquita entered the cage, holding her whip in one
hand and a flag in the other. She gave a few sharp orders and the
animals began to pose, dance and run around. It was all new to Buster
and a little confusing, but he tried to follow and imitate the others.
Apparently this pleased Chiquita, for she patted him once, and
whispered in his ear:
“Well done, Buster! You’re doing splendidly!”
Buster noticed that Spot the Leopard was often surly and ugly, refusing
to obey until Chiquita hit him with the whip. This made him mind,
but it didn’t improve his temper any. His surliness made the others
nervous, and once they got all snarled up and confused.
“You, Spot,” cried Chiquita, “I’ll punish you if you don’t behave. Now
take that!”
She gave him a sharp rap over the nose with her whip. It stung and
enraged Spot, who cowered back a moment, and then crouched for a leap.
Chiquita saw what was coming, but she didn’t flinch. She snapped the
whip in his face again, but this time the trick didn’t work.
Spot flung himself through the air in a mighty leap, uttering a low
savage growl, which excited the other animals so they set up a wild
roar. Attendants ran to the cage with long irons and sticks in their
hands, but Chiquita was penned against the iron bars, vainly trying to
hold Spot off at arms’ length. There was a great shout outside, and
everybody stood up, with fear and horror in their eyes.
In the midst of the confusion, Buster suddenly came to life. He
had taken no part in the commotion, but when he saw Spot attacking
Chiquita, whose white face and appealing eyes were turned toward him,
his anger flared up. He would not stand by idly while the Leopard tore
and scratched the white flesh of his friend.
With a low growl, Buster started across the cage, baring his teeth
in an ugly grin, and holding aloft a paw ready to strike. The other
animals stood aside to let him pass, but Spot was snapping and
snarling at Chiquita so that he did not see him.
How Buster saved Chiquita from Spot the Leopard, and won her undying
friendship, will be told in the next story.
STORY IX
BUSTER SAVES CHIQUITA
Spot the Leopard had attacked Chiquita so suddenly that she had little
chance of defending herself, and the other animals, excited by the
commotion, were ready to join in the attack against their fair trainer.
Buster had not been in the circus long enough to learn the ways of
the other animals. Chiquita had been kind to him, and after the cruel
treatment from his former masters it seemed as if the dainty young
trainer was more than a friend to him. He recalled Spot’s threat to
pounce upon Chiquita some day and punish her.
Buster resolved, as he crossed the cage in a few long strides, to
protect Chiquita, and if necessary to fight Spot the Leopard. He was
angry with Spot, but not so much as to inflict serious injury on him.
It was only when he got close and saw the deep scratch on Chiquita’s
arm where the Leopard’s claws had laid the flesh open, that his anger
flared up to white heat.
With a deeper growl than before, he raised his right paw and delivered
a telling blow on Spot’s body. It was not intended as a knock-out blow,
but Buster had grown to powerful proportions, and his most playful cuff
was enough to do considerable damage.
It landed with a deep thud on Spot’s side, and the Leopard was hurled
to the other side of the cage with a bang. He struck the iron bars, and
for a moment seemed too stunned or surprised to utter a sound. Buster
calmly stood in front of Chiquita and glared defiantly at his enemy.
Spot recovered his senses after a while and let out a growl and screech
that made every one in the circus shudder. He crouched down low,
swishing his tail, and glaring at Buster. It was a moment of intense
suspense.
To make matters worse the other animals kept up their uproar. The fight
had stirred their blood, and they began crouching and stalking about
the cage as if anxious to get in the fray. Ocelot the Jungle Cat in
particular showed great excitement. He began creeping upon Buster from
behind, and Timber the Wolf sneaked in closer to get a chance.
[Illustration: HE RAISED HIS RIGHT PAW AND DELIVERED A TELLING BLOW ON
SPOT’S BODY]
Buster through the corner of his eyes noticed the restless, threatening
motions of the two. Boar the Hound ran around, barking vigorously,
but made no attempt to take any part in the fight. The Old Lion, who
was too sleepy and indolent even to roar, sat apart as if he was to be
the judge of the contest.
Chiquita, who was slightly wounded, cowered back of her defender,
unable to get her whip or to make her voice heard. A thousand
spectators outside watched with horrified eyes the combat. Attendants
were running around with long poles and irons to prod the animals back
to their corners, but they were so excited they did little good.
Suddenly Spot the Leopard took advantage of a moment when Buster was
watching Ocelot the Jungle Cat. He sprang at his enemy like an arrow
from a bow. At the same instant Ocelot closed in, and Timber the Wolf
watched for his opportunity.
But Buster hadn’t been taken off his guard. He had kept one eye on
Spot, and when he shot through the air that powerful right paw of his
was raised again. It caught Spot in mid-air. It was no gentle blow
this time. It was delivered with all the force that lay behind those
powerful shoulder muscles.
It landed on Spot’s body with such a thud that it could be heard in
every corner of the great circus. The Leopard was hurled back against
the iron bars with such force that it seemed for a moment as if they
would give way. Spot grunted, and dropped to the floor in such a dazed
state of mind that he couldn’t think or act.
Buster having delivered this knock-out blow turned swiftly to Ocelot,
whose claws had sunk into his shaggy leg. The huge paw came down on
Ocelot’s head and nearly crushed the skull. He dropped his hold and lay
down as if suddenly struck by lightning.
Buster, smarting with the pain in his leg, growled in rage, and turned
to Timber the Wolf. Now Timber was naturally a coward. The punishment
meted out to Spot and Ocelot immediately caused him to change his mind.
He ran around the cage as Buster started in pursuit.
A temper, once it gets beyond control, is a terrible thing to have. It
may lead into all sorts of trouble. Buster by this time had lost his
completely. He was so enraged that he wanted to kill everything in the
cage. His eyes grew blood-shot and terrible to look at.
He lunged at Timber, and missed him, but the Old Lion happened to be in
the way. Buster gave him a side cuff that made him roar with pain. It
was a glancing blow. If Old Lion hadn’t been so old that most of his
teeth were gone he would have struck back, and Buster would have been
in a peck of trouble. He didn’t know much about lions in those days.
The next animal that got in his way was Boar the Hound, which he
sent whimpering across the cage. Then he came to Spot, who was just
recovering his senses, and with an angry snarl hit him again and stood
before him like a cat over a mouse as if defying him to run or strike
back.
Round and round the cage Buster pursued the animals, striking right and
left, and tumbling them all in a heap whenever he got within striking
distance. Ocelot climbed to the top of the iron bars and crouched there
in shivering terror.
Timber the Wolf leaped and jumped over the backs of the others, and
thus escaped serious injury. It was a mix-up that threatened to end in
a terrible tragedy. Buster was master of the situation, and so enraged
that he continually saw red. The pandemonium outside, and the quickly
thrusting sticks and irons of the attendants, had no effect on his
temper. He ignored the noise, and merely snapped and snarled at the
sharp irons every time they got in his way.
Then Chiquita, who had been cowering in her corner in fright, suddenly
regained control of her nerves. She picked up her whip, but did not
use it. Instead she walked calmly up to the enraged bear, and said
sharply:
“Buster! Buster!”
Buster stopped short as if pricked by a needle. When his name was
repeated in that soft voice, he closed his dripping jaws and ceased
growling.
“Buster, come here!” added Chiquita.
It was a soft, soothing command, and it fell on Buster’s excited nerves
like cooling balm. He looked at Chiquita, and then without so much as a
grunt waddled toward her.
What followed made every one in the vast audience gasp. Chiquita,
ignoring her danger, suddenly put her two arms around Buster’s neck,
and actually wept on his shaggy breast.
“Buster, you saved my life,” she said gently. “Spot would surely have
killed me if you hadn’t come to my help. You dear old Buster!”
Buster’s emotions cannot be described. All his rage suddenly vanished.
He put a paw on Chiquita’s shoulders, and then fearful of hurting her,
dropped it to his side.
She raised her head from his breast, and added: “Now come with me.
Take me outside.”
And leading Buster she walked across the cage, opened the door and
stepped out. Buster meekly followed. Outside she led him by a paw
across the arena, and faced the great audience. “You have seen what
happened,” she said in a clear voice. “Can you wonder that I love
Buster the Bear?”
The audience went wild, shouting and waving to them, and Buster was so
confused he hardly knew what to do. In the next story Buster becomes a
famous trick bear.
STORY X
BUSTER BECOMES A TRICK BEAR
Buster was not popular among the animals of the circus after his fight
with Spot the Leopard, but he was a great favorite with the circus
people. From being regarded as a dangerous bear, ready to kill his
trainer at any moment, he was looked upon thereafter as a special pet
who could be trusted by every one.
Of course, it was Chiquita who favored him the most. She bestowed more
attention upon him than on any of the others. She petted him, praised
him, feeding him dainties, and giving him the softest bed in the place.
She even permitted him to roam about the rooms she occupied, and as
Buster did not get in mischief or do any harm his liberty was extended
day by day.
Buster grew as fond of Chiquita as she was of him, and he obeyed her as
meekly and willingly as a pet dog. None of the ugly temper he showed
when fighting Spot in the cage showed itself again, and Chiquita began
training him for trick performances.
Buster had already received a little training, and he was quick to pick
up his new lessons. He soon learned to jump through a hoop, skip rope,
and turn somersaults back and forth. Then one day, Chiquita said:
“You would make a good clown, Buster, I believe. Yes, you would.”
Not knowing what a clown was, Buster merely grinned and nodded his
head. Chiquita made a wonderful dress for him out of red, white and
blue flannel, and with a tall hat on his head Buster looked like the
cartoon of Uncle Sam. Dressed as the goddess of liberty, Chiquita
appeared in the arena walking arm in arm with her escort.
This brought great applause from the audience, and what pleased the
people pleased Buster. He grinned and nodded his head, and strutted
around with his head high in the air.
All the time he was receiving special favors and attention, Spot the
Leopard and Ocelot the Jungle Cat were in their cages watching for an
opportunity to get revenge on him. The pain they suffered from Buster’s
hard blows was nothing to what they suffered in mind and spirit. They
were nearly consumed with rage and envy.
Buster never passed near the cage without their snarling and spitting
at him. They could do this in safety, for the iron bars were between
them. Right down in their hearts, however, they were afraid of him.
Buster, who carried no spirit of ill-feeling against them, merely
grinned when they spit at him. But one day he stopped in front of
Spot’s cage, and said:
“Why don’t you forget and forgive, Spot? This carrying a grouch around
with you all the time spoils your face. Let’s be friends.”
“Friends!” snarled Spot. “I may think of that after I’ve clawed off
some of your hide!”
“Me too!” echoed Ocelot. “And I’d like to begin with your eyes.”
“And I’ll lap up his warm blood when you’ve killed him,” growled Timber
the Wolf from his cage.
Buster, instead of being offended at these threats, sat back on his
haunches and laughed. Then noticing the Old Lion watching them, his
eyes blinking sleepily, he turned to him.
“What would you like to do to me, Old Lion?” he asked.
“Nothing, Buster, except to give you some good advice,” was the reply.
“That’s a friendly offer. I’ll listen to it.”
The Old Lion winked and blinked, stretched himself with a yawn, and
then sat up looking for all the world like the noble king of the beasts.
“When your enemies threaten you, Buster,” he said slowly, “it is wise
to listen to them so you may be prepared. Don’t let the pride of
strength deceive you. The mouse gnawed through the net that the lion
couldn’t break, and Cobra the Reptile put a whole jungle of animals to
flight. That is all, Buster.”
“Thank you, Old Lion,” replied Buster. “I’ll remember what you said.”
“It doesn’t make any difference to me whether you remember it or not,”
was the answer, as the Old Lion stretched out and went to sleep.
Buster did remember the advice for a few days, and then forgot it. He
also ignored Spot and Ocelot, for they refused to make friends with
him. Meanwhile, his progress as a trick bear increased, and he appeared
nightly before big audiences with Chiquita.
One day the big tent was taken down, for the circus was to move to
another town. There was such noise and confusion that every one was
upset. Buster found his customary resting place filled with packing
boxes and baggage. Somewhat put out by this he wandered around,
and finally climbed on the top of a bundle of canvas away from the
confusion.
It was a soft, comfortable bed, and Buster soon fell asleep. He snored
and rolled around in his slumber until attendants came running up to
find out what the trouble was. When they discovered him, they laughed
and said:
“It’s only Buster taking his mid-day snooze with the high treble stops
wide open.”