THE BIG LAVENDER BEAR
It was a pleasant place to wander, and the two travelers were
proceeding at a brisk pace when suddenly a voice shouted, “Halt!”
They looked around in surprise, seeing at first no one at all. Then
from behind a tree there stepped a brown, fuzzy bear whose head came
about as high as Cayke’s waist—and Cayke was a small woman. The bear
was chubby as well as fuzzy; his body was even puffy, while his legs
and arms seemed jointed at the knees and elbows and fastened to his
body by pins or rivets. His ears were round in shape and stuck out in a
comical way, while his round, black eyes were bright and sparkling as
beads. Over his shoulder the little brown bear bore a gun with a tin
barrel. The barrel had a cork in the end of it, and a string was
attached to the cork and to the handle of the gun. Both the Frogman and
Cayke gazed hard at this curious bear, standing silent for some time.
But finally the Frogman recovered from his surprise and remarked, “It
seems to me that you are stuffed with sawdust and ought not to be
alive.”
“That’s all you know about it,” answered the little Brown Bear in a
squeaky voice. “I am stuffed with a very good quality of curled hair,
and my skin is the best plush that was ever made. As for my being
alive, that is my own affair and cannot concern you at all, except that
it gives me the privilege to say you are my prisoners.”
“Prisoners! Why do you speak such nonsense?” the Frogman angrily. “Do
you think we are afraid of a toy bear with a toy gun?”
“You ought to be,” was the confident reply, “for I am merely the sentry
guarding the way to Bear Center, which is a city containing hundreds of
my race, who are ruled by a very powerful sorcerer known as the
Lavender Bear. He ought to be a purple color, you know, seeing he is a
King, but he’s only light lavender, which is, of course, second cousin
to royal purple. So unless you come with me peaceably as my prisoners,
I shall fire my gun and bring a hundred bears of all sizes and colors
to capture you.”
“Why do you wish to capture us?” inquired the Frogman, who had listened
to his speech with much astonishment.
“I don’t wish to, as a matter of fact,” replied the little Brown Bear,
“but it is my duty to, because you are now trespassing on the domain of
His Majesty, the King of Bear Center. Also, I will admit that things
are rather quiet in our city just now, and the excitement of your
capture, followed by your trial and execution, should afford us much
entertainment.”
“We defy you!” said the Frogman.
“Oh no, don’t do that,” pleaded Cayke, speaking to her companion. “He
says his King is a sorcerer, so perhaps it is he or one of his bears
who ventured to steal my jeweled dishpan. Let us go to the City of the
Bears and discover if my dishpan is there.”
“I must now register one more charge against you,” remarked the little
Brown Bear with evident satisfaction. “You have just accused us of
stealing, and that is such a dreadful thing to say that I am quite sure
our noble King will command you to be executed.”
“But how could you execute us?” inquired the Cookie Cook.
“I’ve no idea. But our King is a wonderful inventor, and there is no
doubt he can find a proper way to destroy you. So tell me, are you
going to struggle, or will you go peaceably to meet your doom?”
It was all so ridiculous that Cayke laughed aloud, and even the
Frogman’s wide mouth curled in a smile. Neither was a bit afraid to go
to the Bear City, and it seemed to both that there was a possibility
they might discover the missing dishpan. So the Frogman said, “Lead the
way, little Bear, and we will follow without a struggle.”
“That’s very sensible of you, very sensible indeed,” declared the Brown
Bear. “So for-ward, MARCH!” And with the command he turned around and
began to waddle along a path that led between the trees.
Cayke and the Frogman, as they followed their conductor, could scarce
forbear laughing at his stiff, awkward manner of walking, and although
he moved his stuffy legs fast, his steps were so short that they had to
go slowly in order not to run into him. But after a time they reached a
large, circular space in the center of the forest, which was clear of
any stumps or underbrush. The ground was covered by a soft, gray moss,
pleasant to tread upon. All the trees surrounding this space seemed to
be hollow and had round holes in their trunks, set a little way above
the ground, but otherwise there was nothing unusual about the place and
nothing, in the opinion of the prisoners, to indicate a settlement. But
the little Brown Bear said in a proud and impressive voice (although it
still squeaked), “This is the wonderful city known to fame as Bear
Center!”
“But there are no houses, there are no bears living here at all!”
exclaimed Cayke.
“Oh indeed!” retorted their captor, and raising his gun he pulled the
trigger. The cork flew out of the tin barrel with a loud “pop!” and at
once from every hole in every tree within view of the clearing appeared
the head of a bear. They were of many colors and of many sizes, but all
were made in the same manner as the bear who had met and captured them.
At first a chorus of growls arose, and then a sharp voice cried, “What
has happened, Corporal Waddle?”
“Captives, Your Majesty!” answered the Brown Bear. “Intruders upon our
domain and slanderers of our good name.”
“Ah, that’s important,” answered the voice.
Then from out the hollow trees tumbled a whole regiment of stuffed
bears, some carrying tin swords, some popguns and others long spears
with gay ribbons tied to the handles. There were hundreds of them,
altogether, and they quietly formed a circle around the Frogman and the
Cookie Cook, but kept at a distance and left a large space for the
prisoners to stand in. Presently, this circle parted, and into the
center of it stalked a huge toy bear of a lovely lavender color. He
walked upon his hind legs, as did all the others, and on his head he
wore a tin crown set with diamonds and amethysts, while in one paw he
carried a short wand of some glittering metal that resembled silver but
wasn’t.
“His Majesty the King!” Corporal Waddle, and all the bears bowed low.
Some bowed so low that they lost their balance and toppled over, but
they soon scrambled up again, and the Lavender King squatted on his
haunches before the prisoners and gazed at them steadily with his
bright, pink eyes.