BEAR ON ICE
The goldfinch stayed close to his new friends and in the end they
accepted him as one of them. They named him “Sancho Wing” and built
him a little house on the roof of their new home. In many respects it
was not unlike the permanent nest the bird had planned to build in one
of the strange tree’s branches, but it was made of regular building
materials—not woven of twigs and weeds—though Snythergen remembered
Sancho Wing’s weakness for soft things, and caught and saved all the
thistle down and milkweed silk that blew against his leaves to use for
lining the walls and floors. The living rooms were down stairs, but in
the garret above there was ample space in which the finch might store
stray bits of string, odd twigs, and curious little things he found in
the woods—for Sancho Wing was an eager collector of curiosities. But the
most interesting thing about the house was its watch tower, which rose to
a dizzy height—even for a bird. For it was intended as a look-out from
which Sancho might keep a sharp watch for the bear.
Sancho Wing was far too curious a little bird to sit quietly at home and
wait for things to take their course. So, in addition to scanning the
horizon daily for signs of the bear, he searched the forest over until he
located the cave in which the beast lived, and actually flew into it. As
it was getting dark and the beast was half asleep, he mistook the bird
for a bat and paid no attention to him. Although very much frightened,
Sancho hovered around until the brute’s heavy snoring indicated that he
was fast asleep. Then hastening back he assured Snythergen and Squeaky
they might now rest in peace, and retired to his own snug feather bed.
The three friends had been living together happily and unmolested by the
bear for about a month, when one Sunday at daybreak Sancho Wing opened
his eyes and wondered what had awakened him. He listened. There was a
faint sound like the crackling of twigs. He winged a few hundred yards
into the woods in the direction of the cave and saw the bear approaching.
Hastening back he pecked Snythergen until he opened his eyes.
“The bear is coming! Get into your tree suit at once, it’s your only
chance!” said Sancho.
Snythergen pushed the house up out of the way and jumped out of bed,
calling to the pig. But Squeaky would not wake up. He was too fond of
sleep ever to allow himself to be disturbed before breakfast was on the
table, and always he slept rolled into a ball, his head tucked under his
body; and so tightly did he curl himself up that he kept this position no
matter what any one did to him. Snythergen might have rolled him on the
ground or tossed him into the air, without waking him. And had he done so
Squeaky would have recounted these adventures afterwards as part of his
dream.
Therefore Snythergen did not waste time trying to wake Squeaky, but
hastened to arrange himself in his tree suit. This done, he bent over
and with his top branches picked Squeaky up and lifted him out of danger.
Next he lowered the house to the ground to make the bear think it was
occupied, and took his position as a tree. Hardly had he shaken out his
leaves and arranged his branches when the beast arrived.
Casting an inquiring glance at the tree, the bear entered the house
in search of food. He proceeded at once to the ice-box. Luckily (as
it turned out) the door was open. Before leaving Snythergen had had
the quick forethought to put a piece of cheese in his pocket and
had neglected to close the ice-box door. When the bear had eaten up
everything that was handy, he pushed his head far into one of the smaller
compartments of the box to reach a last morsel of jam he had been unable
to get before. This time he succeeded and, licking his lips, attempted to
pull his head out.
He pulled and he pulled but he could not pull his head out. It was caught
in the opening, and the harder he strained, the more firmly the ice-box
became attached to him. He growled and he gnashed his teeth. He stood on
his hind legs and pounded the ice-box against the walls, until Snythergen
and Sancho Wing feared he would knock the house down. Through a window
Sancho saw the bear bracing himself for a mighty blow which, if allowed
to land, would surely break through the wall.
“Quick, quick, pull the house up!” he called.
Grasping the rope with the twigs of a lower limb, Snythergen gave it a
jerk. And just as the brute was delivering a terrific blow the house shot
up and the bear’s effort spent itself in the air harmlessly, except that
the big fellow was thrown sprawling to the ground, with a force that
twisted his neck painfully.
For the moment Snythergen and Sancho Wing forgot their own fears to laugh
at the beast’s comical state. Undoubtedly he was the most surprised bear
in the whole world. Thinking himself still inside of the house (for
whoever heard of a house running away!), he felt about for the walls, but
there were no walls there! The ice-box fastened to his head, blinded him.
Back and forth he stumbled, groping in every direction. And the pounding
of the heavy box on the ground was giving him a splitting headache.
After he had pulled the house up Snythergen was not at all pleased to
find the bear had eaten up all of their food. And now he beheld the
intruder in a rage, bent on breaking their new ice-box! He was so
indignant, his branches fairly itched to punish the clumsy brute. And
the moment the bear was in a favorable position Snythergen crept softly
behind him, stripped the leaves and twigs from one of his stoutest limbs
and gave the beast a sound thrashing. As the blows fell fast and heavy
the bear yelled like a sick puppy. But Snythergen closed his ears to the
sound, and not until he was out of breath and perspiring did he conclude
the brute had had enough. Then his kind heart was touched, for with the
headache and the spanking, the bear was aching and smarting at both ends.
[Illustration: “At least I can relieve his headache”]
“At least I can relieve his headache,” thought Snythergen, bending over
to examine the ice-box. There was still ice in one of the compartments.
Removing a piece Snythergen was able to crowd it in against the bear’s
head, and in spite of the brute’s wiggling, placed it so it rested
against his forehead. Very gently the beast settled down on his aching
haunches, to let the ice cool his throbbing brow. The ice-box was still
attached to him as securely as ever. Apparently he had given up trying
to free himself. But the bear was not to rest in peace for long. His
head recently so hot now became freezing cold. And the pain of it drove
him into a frenzy. Snythergen and Sancho were about to come to his
assistance when he charged blindly forward and a lucky jump was all that
saved Snythergen from a fatal collision. The bear rushed back and forth
beating the ice-box against the rocks and trees, not minding how it
hurt his neck and shoulders. His one desire was to relieve the terrible
freezing in his brain.
Snythergen quite understood all the bear’s thoughts and now decided that
the big fellow had been punished enough. Grasping the rope from which
the boulder dangled, and swinging it around his head, he brought it down
squarely upon the ice-box. This well-aimed blow split open the box,
freeing the bear’s head, but the door frame still clung about his neck—an
absurd collar.
Stunned, lame, and aching, the poor bear crawled into the sunlight to
thaw out his brain and to melt his frost-bitten thoughts. But the sun
did not melt his hard heart or calm his rising indignation. He looked
about angrily for his persecutors. He strode threateningly up to one tree
after another, but they all stood very still and wore the innocent look
that comes natural to trees. Snythergen, however, had not been a tree
long enough to look as unconcerned as the others; besides he had a guilty
conscience.
The bear may have smelled the cheese in Snythergen’s pocket, or maybe
something unusual in his appearance made the beast suspect him, for he
came up and walked around and around the tree until poor Snythergen was
dizzy, following with his eyes, and so frightened he could hardly stand.
Uneasily he swayed from side to side, catching his balance just in time
to avoid a fall. The bear stopped, rubbed his nose on Snythergen’s bark,
dug a claw into it. And Snythergen could not avoid a cry of pain. Sancho
Wing saw the danger his pals were in, and realized that something must be
done quickly if they were to be saved.
“Throw the cheese to him!” cried the little bird. Snythergen tossed it on
the ground a few yards away and the bear followed it eagerly, gulping it
down in one mouthful. Sancho Wing thought he heard woodchoppers in the
distance and flew away to summon help. Soon he found two men with axes
and a rifle, and hiding in some leaves, he called to them:
“Hello, hunters! there is a bear over there near that shaking tree.
Follow the sound of my voice and you will easily find the place.”
The men were simple fellows, only too eager to follow Sancho as he darted
through the leaves calling: “This way, this way!” They could not see who
was calling but supposed it was a little boy who was keeping out of
sight for fear of the bear. Now that help was near, in the midst of his
anxiety Sancho could not avoid chuckling. For he had thought of a way
to get even with Snythergen for the tricks he had played on him about
the nest. As he hurried along he told the woodsmen, after driving away
the bear to cut down a certain tree. “You will know it by the sleeping
pig in its top branches,” he said. Just then the bear saw the huntsmen
approaching and he did not wait for them to come up, but made tracks
before they could get a shot at him.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
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