the little girl felt greatly relieved. Satisfied that the bear had not
climbed in the open window, the searching party turned their attention
elsewhere. But the danger wasn’t over yet, and Nell knew it. She patted
the top of the bed-clothes, and whispered:
“Keep quiet a little longer, Buster. Here comes some one up the stairs.”
Buster grunted and lay as still as a mouse. There was a knocking on the
door, and when the little girl opened it her father appeared. He was
very white and trembling.
“A bear that escaped from the railroad wreck is roaming around here,
Nell,” he said. “I was terribly afraid he had climbed up the shed to
your room. I’m so glad you’re safe.”
He kissed her and seemed greatly relieved to find his daughter safe. He
crossed the room and looked out of the window. Then he returned to her.
“Perhaps you’re safer here until they find him,” he added. “Stay right
here in your room, and keep the door and window locked. I’ll come and
tell you when they find him.”
The little girl could have laughed in her glee, for this was just what
she wanted. She was terribly afraid Buster would smother under all
those clothes and make a noise. She couldn’t get her father out of the
room quick enough.
When he was gone, and the door locked, she ran to the bed, and threw
back the clothes. Buster was all curled up just as she had left him.
But he was fast asleep! It was a warm, comfortable bed, and after his
long run and heavy breakfast of pies, rolls, bread and milk it had
seemed impossible to keep his eyes open for long. And the moment he
closed them he was sound asleep.
The little girl sat down on the floor, and laughed until the tears
streamed down her cheeks. Buster woke with a start and blinked at her.
He couldn’t for several minutes imagine where he was.
“Oh, Buster,” she exclaimed finally, “I thought you were being
smothered to death, and you were so comfortable you fell asleep.”
Buster struggled to his feet and began chuckling. It made him happy to
see the merriment of the little girl. She pulled the clothes up and
flung them back on the bed. She was a very prim little housekeeper, for
she was not satisfied until the pillows were brushed off and patted in
position and the sheets and covers carefully smoothed out.
Buster watched her in silence, and then in his clumsy way offered to
help, but he pulled the clothes so hard, and made such a general mess
of it, that he stopped when the girl sat down and laughed again at him.
“I never saw anybody so clumsy, Buster,” she said. “No, you can’t help
any more. You sit down there in the middle of the floor until I’m
through. Then we’ll have breakfast together.”
The moment she uttered these words she stopped. Have breakfast
together? How could she arrange that? How, in fact, could she manage to
get Buster any breakfast without somebody discovering him in her room?
What did bears eat anyway? And how much? Goodness, from the size of
him, he might eat her father out of house and home! The little girl
felt terribly distressed all of a sudden. She had saved Buster from his
pursuers, but now that she had him what was she going to do with him?
You couldn’t keep bears in a bed-room or closet, nor could you chain
them up in the back yard like a dog? Everybody would be afraid to visit
the house, and all the servants would leave. What could she do?
“Buster, haven’t you any home you can go to?” she asked suddenly,
turning to him. Then she remembered what her father had told her. The
train carrying the circus animals had been wrecked, and some of the
people and animals killed. Of course, the circus people would like
Buster back again, but was he happy there? Or did he run away because
they treated him cruelly?
“Buster, do you want to go back to the circus?” she added after a
pause. “For if you do I’ll have to tell them you’re here, and if they
want you they’ll call for you.”
Now Buster had no desire just then to return to the circus. He thought
it would be much nicer to live with the little girl and play with her.
So he shook his head vigorously, which made the girl sigh, and say
solemnly: “Then you won’t have to go back! I’ll keep you here!”
She cleaned up things in the room, and dressed herself. Her breakfast
was waiting for her downstairs, and if she didn’t go soon her father
would be up after her.
“Buster,” she said once more, laying a hand on his head, “I’m going
down now to get my breakfast, and then I’ll bring you something to
eat--some sugar and coffee, and jam and--and--what do you like to eat?”
Buster only grinned and shook his head. The little girl was puzzled. “I
know what I’ll do,” she added, smiling. “I’ll ask my father. He’s wise
and knows everything, and he’ll tell me what bears eat. I know he’ll
like you, Buster.”
Of course, Buster wasn’t quite so sure of this, but he had no way to
express his doubts. He heard the little girl running down the stairs,
and then for a long time he was left alone. It was a queer situation
for him. He walked across the room, and the floor squeaked with every
tread. Then he looked out of the window and immediately ducked his
head, for there was a man and dog below on guard.
He waited a long time for the little girl to return, and then grew
restless. He tried the door, and finding it unlocked opened it and
stuck his head out. All was quiet in the house. He couldn’t hear any
one around.
A great fear that something had happened to the little girl suddenly
made him very anxious. Perhaps the men and dogs had captured her, and
were holding her because she had hid him in her bed-room. This thought
made him angry. If she was in trouble and needed him, he would go to
her assistance.
Buster closed the door softly behind him and started down the stairs.
Now that he was going to the little girl’s assistance he wasn’t afraid
of anything. He hadn’t been afraid to attack all the animals in the big
cage when Chiquita was in danger. Then why should he be afraid now!
Down, down the stairs he clumped, his great weight making each step
squeak and groan. Nobody was in the hall below, and the whole house
seemed quiet and deserted. Had the men taken the little girl away with
them? Buster uttered an angry growl and took another step down.
Then directly in front of him appeared a man. He stepped out of a
doorway so suddenly that both bear and man were surprised. Buster
recognized him immediately as the gentleman who held the little girl’s
hands that day she fed him a stick of candy.
The man started suddenly, stared at the bear on the stairs, and backed
slowly away. “Nell! Nell!” he called. “Keep away! Go back! The bear is
in the house! Run for your life and tell the men!”
But little Nell, instead of running away, pushed past her father and
surprised him so that he nearly dropped down with fright. She ran
straight up to Buster and hugged him. Then laughing she turned to her
father.
“It’s only Buster, and he wouldn’t hurt me. Why, he’s been in my
bed-room all the time!”
What they decided to do with Buster after that will be told in the next
story.
STORY XV
BUSTER IS TO BE SENT TO THE ZOO
It seemed almost like a fairy story to the little girl’s father when
she told him how Buster had climbed through the window of her room, and
how she had covered him up with the bed-clothes to protect him from the
men. And he didn’t believe in fairy stories! In fact, he didn’t believe
just then that he was awake and hearing things. It surely was all a
dream.
But there was Buster on the stairs, and his little girl hugging the
great big, shaggy creature. Why, with one blow the bear could crush
the life out of her! It made him tremble to think of it. He tried to
call her away, but she didn’t hear him. She was talking to Buster, who
seemed to understand.
“Now, papa, you see he won’t hurt me,” she said finally, “and I won’t
let the men hurt him. We must do something for him.”
“Yes, yes, dear,” was the stammering reply. “But what?”
“Can’t we keep him here?”
The man smiled for the first time. “Where----in your bed-room?”
“No-o, but maybe outdoors. I think he likes outdoors the best.”
“But, dear, he would never be happy here, and he’d frighten all of our
neighbors. He may be good to you, but he might be ugly to others.”
“Not if they were kind to him,” was the confident answer.
“Maybe not! Maybe not! But we must think of it.”
He was quiet for a moment, watching Buster out of the corner of his
eyes. He was less afraid of the bear than at first. Something in his
eyes made him think that perhaps his little girl’s trust was not
misplaced after all. But he had a natural fear of all wild animals, and
did not like to run any risks.
“I’ll tell you, dear,” he added finally, “we’ll put Buster in the
cellar until the men have gone, and then--then we’ll telegraph to the
owners of the circus. They will come for him, and he’ll be better off
with them than with us.”
“But maybe he ran away from the circus because they were cruel to him,”
protested Nell. “I don’t want him to go back then.”
“I don’t know about that, but I read in the papers that the circus
people are going out of business. Their loss of animals in the smash-up
decided them to give up the show business. Chiquita, their famous
trainer, was injured so she’ll never go back to performing again. I
believe she’s in the hospital now, and won’t be out for a month or two.”
Now all this was news to Buster. They couldn’t understand how eager
he was to learn all about the circus. If Chiquita was injured in the
wreck, then perhaps Spot and Ocelot and Old Lion were hurt, too, or
even dead.
It made him very sad, for it meant the end of his circus life. He would
never want to perform for another trainer now that Chiquita was gone.
Poor Chiquita! Buster shed a tear for her, for she had been his dear
friend, and he knew now that he couldn’t help her or ever see her again.
“Then, papa,” broke in little Nell again, “we can keep Buster, can’t
we?”
“Only a few days, dear,” was the smiling reply. “We have no place to
keep him, and I’m sure he’d soon try to escape.”
The little girl pouted, and looked anxiously at Buster before speaking.
“Then what will become of him?” she added. “He won’t have any home at
all. That will be dreadful, papa, and he’s been so good to me.”
“Ah!” exclaimed her father suddenly, his eyes brightening. “I have it.
We’ll send him to the Zoo. We’ll make them a present of him if the
circus people don’t come to claim him.”
The little girl was not exactly sure that she approved of this, and she
continued pouting and looking at Buster. “But won’t they shut him up in
a cage, and keep him there all the time?” she queried. “I don’t think
I’d like to be caged forever and forever, would you?”
The question was addressed to her father, but Buster answered it with a
vigorous shake of the head. He didn’t know anything about the Zoo. It
was a place he had never heard about, but if they kept bears caged up
there all the time he didn’t care to know more about it. It certainly
was a dreadful place.
He had often pitied Spot and Ocelot for being shut up in their cages
all the time, but he blamed them a good deal for that. They wouldn’t
behave themselves decently, and it served them right. But that was no
reason why he should be kept in a cage all the rest of his life. No, he
preferred to be free.
“My dear,” Buster heard the father say after a pause, “that is the only
wise thing to do. Keeping him here is simply out of the question. We
must put him in the cellar until I can notify the authorities. Then
they’ll put him in a cage at the Zoo, and you can go and see him as
often as you like.”
The thought of being able to see Buster at the Zoo made her feel
better, and she turned and whispered to him: “I’ll come every week to
see you, Buster, and I’ll bring you sugar and peanuts and candy, and
everything.”
Buster smiled, for he knew that she meant what she said, but he was
greatly troubled in mind. Could he, for the sake of seeing the little
girl once a week, endure prison for the rest of his life? All the
outdoor freedom would then be denied him. He couldn’t walk around, nor
perform before people in the circus; he couldn’t even crawl under a
pile of canvas or a clump of bushes to sleep. He would always be behind
those iron bars.
He remembered how Old Lion had complained of the monotony of life in
the cage, and Old Lion had grown old and weak in doing nothing. Spot,
Ocelot and Timber had never become reconciled to their captivity, but
paced their cages day and night longing to escape.
Buster drew a great sigh, and glanced out of the window. He saw green
trees, smiling fields and tinkling brook. Ah, how he loved those! No,
he could not leave them forever. He started for the outside door as if
to leave the house.
“Don’t let him out, Nell,” the little girl’s father said. “The men and
dogs are out there. Do you think you can get him down the cellar for
the night?”
“Yes, papa, he’ll come with me,” was the answer. “Won’t you, Buster?”
Buster nodded, and followed her. He had no wish to go outside and fall
in the hands of his pursuers. So he meekly followed the little girl
down the stairs to the cellar where he was safe from all his enemies.
It was a wide, roomy cellar, and Buster felt quite content there, but
the thought that the men might call for him on the morrow to take him
away to the Zoo spoilt his happiness.
When the little girl left him, he had made up his mind. Before morning
he would break out of the cellar and escape. There had come into his
mind a vision of the woods where he had been born, and a great desire
to find his way back. Could he do it? In the next story you will hear
how he set out on his long journey, and what happened to him.
STORY XVI
BUSTER RETURNS TO THE NORTH WOODS
Buster spent the rest of the day in the cellar of the house where the
little girl lived, sleeping part of the time and playing with his
little friend whenever she had the time to come down. There were many
things in the cellar that smelt good--jams and jellies stored away in
a closet, potatoes, apples and cabbages in bins, and boxes full of
dry groceries--but Buster did not touch any of these. He ate what the
little girl fed him, and nothing else.
As the day dragged along, and night approached, he thought more and
more of the North Woods where he had been born. He saw the beautiful
river that flowed past the cave, heard the tinkling of the waves and
the songs of the birds, and sniffed the fragrance of the millions of
wild flowers. He thought of his mother, who had mourned his death--of
Loup the Lynx, who had driven him from home, and made him an exile.
And the more he thought of these things, the more anxious he was to
return to the woods. He was not needed in the circus now. Chiquita had
gone, and he would never find another trainer like her. The little girl
was his friend and loved him, but he could have no home with her. Then
the place for him was in the woods where he would be free to roam about
and hunt as he chose.
It was nearly dark when the little girl said good-night to him. She
kissed him on the tip of the nose, and Buster felt a desire to take her
in his arms and hug her. But he knew that would never do. His gentlest
hug might break her little bones and kill her. So he contented himself
with a smile and grin, and waved a paw to her as she closed the door.
Buster ate the supper she had brought down to him. He felt that he
needed it all for his great journey. It might be days before he could
get another such supper. It was quite dark outside when he had finished.
But there were lights upstairs and sounds of voices. Buster sat down
and waited until they had all gone to bed, and the house was as quiet
as a mouse. Then he got up and began preparing for his escape. The
windows were out of the question, for they were too small for him to
crawl through. So he devoted himself to breaking through the outside
door.
This was locked, but Buster leaned his heavy weight against it until
the lock creaked and then snapped. The door sprung open so suddenly
that he tumbled outside all in a heap. The night was clear and quiet.
The noise made by the bursting of the lock did not seem to disturb
anybody, and Buster started across the fields in a slow jog trot.
When he reached the border of the swamp, he skirted the edge instead
of plunging through it. He finally came out on the road where he had
frightened the man carrying a basket of pies and rolls. He smiled at
the remembrance of it, and wondered if the man would come again with
another basketful of good things.
Buster had started out with the intention of finding his way back to
the North Woods, but he soon found himself in a quandary. Which way
should he go to find them? And how far off were they?
He might have been compelled, after all, to return to the little girl’s
house and go to the Zoo for the rest of his days, if he hadn’t stumbled
by accident upon Sleepy the Opossum cuddled up in a crotch of a tree.
“Hello, Sleepy,” he called, “can you direct me to the North Woods, and
tell me how far I must travel to reach them?”
“Follow the wind, Buster,” replied Sleepy, “and travel day and night
until you get there. That’s all I know.”
The wind was blowing from the north, and after traveling in that
direction all night, crossing fields, woods and swamps, he came to rest
in a dense thicket. “I’ll sleep here,” he said, “until night, and then
go on.”
He didn’t want to show himself in the day time, and so he slept soundly
all day. When he stretched himself toward sundown, he saw Curly the
Skunk nearby watching.
“How far is it to the North Woods, Curly?” he asked. “And which way do
I go?”
“It’s far again as you’ve traveled, Buster,” was the reply, “and it
will take you twice as long to reach it, for there’s a big river to
cross. Follow the moon, and you won’t miss it.”
Buster thanked him for this information, and as there was a bright moon
he had no trouble in keeping in the right direction. As on the previous
night he traveled until the dawn of a new day, and then once more
sought refuge in a dense swamp to sleep.
He was awake bright and early, rising before the moon was up. This time
he asked Washer the Raccoon, who responded promptly:
“Follow the trail made by White Tail the Deer until you come to the
river. Then cross it, if you can. It’s a long swim, and I wouldn’t like
to undertake it.”
Again Buster thanked his little forest friend, and resumed his hard
journey. He was pretty tired and dirty by this time, for he had walked
through swamps and thickets of briars in the dark, and had fallen and
stumbled a number of times. But he had to reach the North Woods where
he would be in no further danger of capture. Now that he had decided to
return to his old home, he wasn’t going to be turned aside by anything.
He reached the bank of the river by dawn. It was certainly a wide
river, and very swift. He walked in it and drank his fill of cool,
refreshing water. Seeing Billy the Mink washing himself on the bank, he
called to him: “Must I swim the river to reach the North Woods, Billy?”
“You certainly must,” laughed Billy, “unless you can fly across. You
haven’t wings yet, have you, Buster?”
“Not yet, Billy.”
Then taking a plunge in the deep, swift stream, Buster began his long
swim. The current was so strong that it carried him far down from the
point he had in view, and at times it seemed as if he wasn’t making
any headway at all. His long tramp in the woods began to tell on him,
and he puffed and grunted as never before.
But he was a powerful swimmer, and in time his feet touched sandy
bottom on the other side. He waded through the shallow water until he
stood on dry land once more.
“My, Buster, you look like a drowned rat!” exclaimed a voice in the
bushes. He turned to see Groundy the Woodchuck smiling at him. “When
did you arrive?” continued Groundy. “And how big you’ve grown! I hardly
knew you at first.”
“How far am I from the North Woods, Browny?” Buster interrupted.
“How far? Why, as far again as half.”
“This is no time for joking, Browny. I want a plain, straightforward
answer.”
“Well, then you’ll have it. You’re there now! You’re standing in the
North Woods!”
Buster gave a little sigh of relief. So he was back home, in the woods
where had been born! How good the trees and bushes looked and smelt! He
sniffed the pines and spruces. He looked at the river he had crossed,
and for the first time realized this was the stream that passed the
door of his old home. By following it up he could come to the cave
where his mother had lived, and where Loup the Lynx had found him that
day when he tried to kill him.
If you want to hear more of Buster’s life you can follow him in the
book “Buster the Big Brown Bear’s Adventures.”
BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL
BOBBY’S INTRODUCTION
There are many squirrels living in the North Woods, but only one real
Bobby Gray Squirrel, and if you saw him once you would never mistake
him for any other. Bobby was a gay, rollicking happy-go-lucky fellow,
who believed in enjoying himself today and letting the morrow take care
of itself. He wasn’t exactly lazy, but he didn’t believe in doing work
that wasn’t actually necessary, and sometimes, I’m afraid, he forgot to
do what was really necessary.
Bobby had many friends in the woods, and they all liked him and smiled
at him, but there were some who thought his careless ways might get him
in trouble some day. So instead of chattering pleasantly with him, they
shook their heads and preached to him.
“Why don’t you get busy these pleasant days, Bobby, and store up food
for the winter?” Gray Back the Weasel asked reprovingly one bright,
sunny day.
The continuation of this interesting story will be found in
BOBBY GRAY SQUIRREL
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WHITE TAIL THE DEER
STORY I
WHITE TAIL’S FIRST LESSON
High among the timberland of the North Woods White Tail the Deer was
born, and if you had stumbled upon his home in the thickets you would
have been surprised by a noise like the rushing of the wind, and then
by a very remarkable silence that could almost be felt. The first was
made by Mother White Tail as she deserted her young and took to quick
flight.
White Tail, crouching low down in the bushes, so still that he scarcely
moved a hair, would hide his beautiful head in the branches and leaves
like an obedient child. Left alone he knew that his one chance of
escape was not to move or whimper or cry.
That was the first lesson White Tail was taught by his mother--to keep
absolutely quiet in the presence of danger. When he was so small that
he could hardly hold up his head, she whispered to him: “Listen, White
Tail! When I give the signal that the hunters are coming, you must
flatten yourself down
The continuation of this interesting story will be found in
WHITE TAIL THE DEER
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517 S. Wabash Ave.
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129 Spadina Ave.
TORONTO, ONT.
Bumper the White Rabbit
STORY I
WHERE BUMPER CAME FROM
There was once an old woman who had so many rabbits that she hardly
knew what to do. They ate her out of house and home, and kept the
cupboard so bare she often had to go to bed hungry. But none of the
rabbits suffered this way. They all had their supper, and their
breakfast, too, even if there wasn’t a crust left in the old woman’s
cupboard.
There were big rabbits and little rabbits; lean ones and fat ones;
comical little youngsters who played pranks upon their elders, and
staid, serious old ones who never laughed or smiled the livelong day;
boy rabbits and girl rabbits, mother rabbits and father rabbits, and
goodness knows how many aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces, cousins, second
cousins and distant relatives-in-law! They all lived under one big roof
in the
The continuation of this interesting story will be found in
BUMPER THE WHITE RABBIT
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WHITE TAIL’S ADVENTURES
STORY I
WHITE TAIL JUMPS STEPPING STONE BROOK
White Tail grew rapidly in size and strength, his long, clean limbs
showing taut muscles and great springing power; and his neck grew thick
and short, which is well for a buck, who must use it in savage thrusts
when the head is a battering ram. His horns were short and bony, but
they protruded in front like knobs against which it would be unpleasant
to fall.