[Illustration: Dapple would strike at her with her forefeet.
--_Page 29_
]
FUZZY-WUZZ
A Little Brown Bear of the Sierras
_By_
ALLEN CHAFFEE
Author of “Unexplored,” “Lost River,” “Twinkly
Eyes, the Little Black Bear,” “Trail
and Tree Top,” etc.
_Illustrated by_
PETER DA RU
MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY
SPRINGFIELD - - - MASSACHUSETTS
Copyright, 1922
BY MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY
Springfield, Massachusetts
_All rights reserved_
=Bradley Quality Books=
PRINTED IN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
_To_
_M. M. Soule_
INTRODUCTION
A LITTLE brown bear, no bigger than a house cat, that the Ranger found
near drowning, is brought up with the orphaned fawn his children tamed,
a rascally young burro, a ring-tailed cat, an owl, a tame canary, and a
valiant yellow pup.
The scene is laid in the high Sierras, where trout-filled streams
cascade down fragrant cedar slopes.
The author has turned natural science into story form. With the
enterprising bear cub, we meet pine squirrels and painted chipmunks,
the pika of the snow-clad peaks and the rattler of the sun-baked
low-lands, the weasel and the wapiti, and have at least a glimpse of
the cougar and the coyote.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I MOTHER BROWN BEAR 1
II THE CINNAMON CUB 5
III THE YOUNG SCREECH OWL 8
IV WITH THE RANGER’S CHILDREN 12
V FUZZY RUNS AWAY 16
VI THE COYOTES 19
VII THE SPOTTED FAWN 22
VIII WILD PLAYMATES 27
IX THE HUNTER 31
X TINY FOLK AND THEIR TROUBLES 34
XI CHUCK AND CHIPPER 38
XII MOTHER CHIPMUNK’S ADVENTURE 43
XIII THE HOME UNDER THE ROCK 46
XIV THE CACHE 50
XV THE PINE NUTS 54
XVI FUZZY-WUZZ PLAYS FATE 58
XVII BUCKY, THE BURRO 62
XVIII “AS STUBBORN AS A MULE” 66
XIX THE PINTO PONY 70
XX THE PACK-HORSE TRIP 75
XXI WHEN THE WORLD TURNED WHITE 79
XXII THE RING-TAILED CAT 83
XXIII THE BABY CANARY 87
XXIV “JEST AN ORNERY PUP” 92
XXV A REGULAR DOG 97
XXVI CHUMS 101
XXVII PRETTY PAWS, THE PINE SQUIRREL 105
XXVIII THE RATTLESNAKE DEN 110
XXIX MOTHER BROWN BEAR AND THE BULL 115
XXX PIKA OF THE PEAKS 121
XXXI FUZZY AND THE WEASEL 125
XXXII WAPITI 129
XXXIII DAPPLE DISAPPEARS 133
XXXIV DAPPLE’S SECRET 136
XXXV OLD FRIENDS 139
FUZZY-WUZZ
CHAPTER I
MOTHER BROWN BEAR
THE stars, twinkling like diamonds on a black velvet sky, looked down
that night on a tender sight. A huge brown bear lay in the mouth of her
cave in the rocks above the falls, nuzzling her babies to sleep.
A crafty old coyote also watched, his yellow eyes gleaming murderously
at the tiny balls of fur. Soon, he told himself, the mother would have
to go in search of her own supper, leaving the cubs asleep in the den.
He licked his chops at the thought.
The littlest cub looked so tender and helpless! His cinnamon-brown fur,
that matched the red-brown soil and the red-brown trunks of the pines,
was still as fuzzy as a kitten’s.
But it just happened that the cubs were not left alone that night. As
the last red flush had faded from the peak of Red Top, their mother had
had an unexpected feast. A Forest Ranger, with his camp outfit on a
burro, had stopped at the foot of the falls to cook a string of trout
and other good things, and had then pushed on up the trail to the hot
springs, where he had work to do.
The mother bear had scarcely waited till the man was out of sight
before she had gobbled up the fish heads, the left-over flapjacks, the
bacon rind, everything,--while the burro, hobbled with a rope about his
heels, had snorted in alarm and browsed as far away as he could get.
Now she could stay at home, at least till daybreak,--for her clever
nose had caught the message that the breeze carried her, from that
sneaking little yellow wild dog, and no coyote was going to steal a
march on her! Her teeth gleamed in a snarl as she thought of the danger
to her unweaned cubs.
Had she seen more of men, she would have thought it strange that the
Ranger should leave his burro and pack behind. But this was in the high
Sierras, a steep mountainside where few men passed, and she had seen
little of the strange creatures who always walked on their hind legs
and made mysterious fires.
In one way she was different from most bears. She had three cubs
instead of only two. It was about all she could keep track of. Of
course they were obedient youngsters. Wild babies have to be, if they
are to survive.
When their mother took the trail to the river, they followed her in
single file, the biggest cub first, wee Fuzzy-Wuzz at the end of the
procession. If she heard something she did not understand, and rose to
her hind legs to listen, the three little bears stood up the same way,
pricking their ears and trying to hear what she heard. If she sniffed
at a strange scent, they sniffed; and if she turned and ran, they
turned and scrambled after her as fast as their fat legs could carry
them.
As it happened, the Ranger returned to camp before the yellow moon
had risen from behind the lacework of the pines, and, gathering an
armful of springy fir boughs, made his bed by the river, which slapped
rhythmically against the rocks in the stealthy quiet.
It was just as he was watering the burro in the chill of sun-up that
the shaggy one led her little family forth on an exploring expedition.
Plodding along with her nose to the trail, she suddenly heard the sound
of footsteps. Instantly, with a startled “Hoof!” she rose to her full
height. Instantly three wee mimics rose to their hind legs behind her,
breathing each his startled little “Hoof!”