IN WHICH LITTLE BLACK BEAR ADDS STILL MORE TO HIS STORY
If Little Black Bear had never before held his breath, he most
positively did when, as he gazed with fascination at the wee girl with
the tumbling curls, he saw her raise the window and place her two
slippered feet on the flagged floor of the cave.
The first thing he noticed was that she carried a bonnet by its long
ribbons quite as one holds the handle to a basket. This she first placed
on the floor and then, carefully closing the window behind her, again
picked it up and started on tiptoe toward Mrs. Shagg.
Now, as you no doubt remember, Little Black Bear had got himself into a
snoozy position just as the strange face appeared at the window, and he
still lay huddled deep down in the depths of his chair. So, as the one
with the bonnet softly crossed the great cave, the back of the chair
gradually shut her from view. But Little Black Bear had by this time
recovered his breath and, becoming more bold, put his head out from
under one arm of the chair in order to see what was about to take place.
There sat Mrs. Shagg—sound asleep in the rocker with her apron spread
over her knees. Quietly the little girl approached her. Not a sound did
she make. Except for the steady “tick-tock, tick-tock” of the clock that
stood on the mantel shelf, there was no sound of any kind throughout the
whole cave. Now the yellow-haired stranger was at Mrs. Shagg’s very
side, and had placed one of her hands under the crown of the bonnet.
What in the world was she going to do!
Leaning still farther out, Little Black Bear craned his neck to see just
what was about to come next. Ah! now he saw! Their visitor was pouring
something into Mrs. Shagg’s lap. But what was it she brought? Again he
edged himself still farther along. And then—
Bang!
Both the chair and the curious one struck the floor with a crash!
At the sound of the fall, Mrs. Shagg sprang to her feet with the
towering Shagg following after; while at the very same moment the floor
of the cave was simply strewn with berries that the little girl had
poured from her bonnet into Mrs. Shagg’s lap.
“Plumb-bobs and sawdust, now! What’s all this rumpus?” stormed the
carpenter, glaring about. “Oh, it’s you, is it, Tumble Curls; did you
come down the chimney and knock over the porridge pot?”
“And just look at the berries—all over the place!” cried Mrs. Shagg.
“And here’s something else on the floor,” added her husband, as his eyes
fell upon a certain sheepish-faced party who was just then picking
himself up from under the overturned chair.
“Yes,” admitted Little Black Bear, “it was all my fault. For it was I
who did it—I and the chair.” And he recited just what had happened. “But
I’ll clean up every last one of the berries—honest I will.”
“Pshaw, now, you’ll do nothing of the kind, for the broom will clear
them away in three Whisks and a whee,” laughed Mrs. Shagg.
“Of course,” agreed Tumble Curls “while I can easily get a brimming
bonnet-ful more.” And she started away toward the window.
“Nonsense,” protested Shagg, “you’ll do nothing of the sort; for we can
go without dessert for once, I guess. Stay right where you are and meet
our new friend, Little Black Bear.”
“Pleased to,” said Tumble Curls, dropping a curtsy and putting one hand
to her dimpled chin. And when, a moment later, she learned that Little
Black Bear was from the circus you may be sure she forgot all about the
berries that had by now been brushed into a dustpan by Mrs. Shagg.
Indeed nothing would do but that Little Black Bear should do some tricks
for them.
[Illustration: Little Black Bear gladly did his tricks over and over
again. _Page 185._]
“Oh, please, please do,” begged Tumble Curls, “for I’ve never, never
been to a circus, though my grannylocks has told me about them and,
once, I saw a wonderful picture. It showed some bears walking on big,
colored globes. Do they really do that?”
“Why, of course,” answered Little Black Bear. “That’s easy as pie. If I
only had—”
“I have the very thing,” interrupted Mrs. Shagg, as she went to one of
the chests that stood near the wall.
“Of course!” exclaimed Shagg. “The ball I made you to use when darning
my clothes.”
Out it came and soon, to the amazement of both the big bruins and the
great joy of Tumble Curls, Little Black Bear had mounted to the top of
it and traveled the full length of the cave. Then, as if to cap the
climax, he turned himself topsy-turvy, tossed his heels in the air,
and—of all unheard-of things—walked back again on his paws!
“Well, saws and sawhorses—I’d never have believed it!” marveled Shagg.
“Nor I, either!” admired Mrs. Shagg. As for Tumble Curls, she danced and
clapped her hands with so much delight that Little Black Bear gladly did
his tricks over and over again. Finally he turned a dozen somersaults
all in a row, to say nothing of leapfrogging high above four stools that
stood near the window.
Now, had Mr. and Mrs. Shagg and Tumble Curls had their way about it,
Little Black Bear would have spent the entire afternoon performing for
them. But just as he had sprung over the last of the stools, the clock
on the mantel suddenly seemed to forget to tick and to tock. Instead it
gave forth a warning “burr—r-r-r”, next it uttered a queer “click” and
then called out the hour in so positive a tone that Little Black Bear
turned about with a start.
“What! That o’clock!” cried he. “Oh, then I must be going at once, else
I’ll never reach the menagerie tent by half-past twilight.”
Of course the others protested, but when they understood that their
visitor really had to leave them, they immediately offered to accompany
him at least part way through the forest.
“It won’t take me a minute to get ready,” assured Mrs. Shagg, as she
went to the door at the back of the cave. And soon she came forth with a
beautiful cashmere shawl, a lovely green parasol, and a bonnet simply
covered with shining jet beads. While she was tying the bonnet strings
under her chin, Shagg had opened two of the chests. From one he took a
glossy silk hat that was almost as tall as the mantelpiece clock; and
from the other a cane with a gorgeous gold knob.
“Family heirlooms,” said he, as he handed the walking stick to Little
Black Bear for the latter’s inspection. “Yes, sir; wonderful cane it is,
too. The very one that belonged to Great Big Bear. Just look at the
initials engraved on the top of it.”
Sure enough, there were the three letters, “G. B. B.”—a bit worn, yet
still quite distinct.
“And the hat?” asked Little Black Bear, as they climbed the stone steps
and came to the clearing, “is it—”
“It is, indeed,” answered Shagg.
“My grannylocks always liked to tell of the time when she took it and
brought it back filled with berries,” put in Tumble Curls, “Goodness,
how Great Big Bear did scold!”
“But he ate the berries just the same,” added Mrs. Shagg.
“Then your grannylocks once lived here in the forest like you?” asked
Little Black Bear of Tumble Curls, as the four descended the slope.
“Of course she did. Surely you must have heard of my
grannylocks—Goldilocks, some called her.”
“Goldilocks!” repeated Little Black Bear. “Goldilocks! Well, I should
say I have! But,” he added in a puzzled sort of way, “I always supposed
that she and the Three Bears weren’t—weren’t—”
“Weren’t on very good terms?” finished Shagg. “Yes, we all know that
story. But, as I said this morning, the fact that Goldilocks broke those
chairs proved the very best thing that could have happened to our
family. So you may be sure it wasn’t long until she and the Three Bears
became the closest of friends.”
Thus they talked as they walked into the deeper depths of the forest.
What an odd group they made! First came Little Black Bear, his eyes and
his ears wide with attention and his lunch bag still tucked tightly
under one arm. At his side skipped Tumble Curls, swinging her bonnet and
chattering and laughing or telling no end of wonderful things about her
own home that lay in a glade high up the mountain slope. A dozen paces
behind them came the two Shaggs, arm linked in arm—he with his cane and
very grand hat and she with her parasol and still grander shawl. On they
went until they had got well past the great tree in which Little Black
Bear had slept through the night; past this and almost within sight of
the fringe of the forest. And then Shagg cried to them to halt.
“For it is here that we must leave you,” he explained. “You see, we
bears of the forest seldom or never go beyond or even to the edge of
it.”
“It has been fine of you to come all this way,” Little Black Bear said
gratefully, “and I can’t begin to thank you for the wonderful time I’ve
had.”
“La! La!” returned Mrs. Shagg, “all we hope is that you will visit us
again some day.”
“You’ll always find a welcome,” rumbled Shagg, as he gave Little Black
Bear a hearty thump on one shoulder.
“Oh, do come back,” said Tumble Curls wistfully. “Promise you will.”
“I’ll try,” answered Little Black Bear, as he set his face toward the
forest’s edge. And then, amid the cries of farewell, he parted from his
three friends.
He had gone but a short way when he felt something rather sharp and
rather hard pressing against the crook of his arm. It came from the
inside of the lunch bag. Then he remembered. It was the
taffy-on-the-stick. Quickly he turned back. Mr. and Mrs. Shagg were just
disappearing behind the trunk of a tree. But not so with Tumble Curls;
she was still watching after him. Little Black Bear now retraced his
steps, fumbling in the paper bag as he went.
“Here,” he said, as he reached Tumble Curls’ side. “Here: maybe you’d
like to have it.” And he thrust the taffy-on-the-stick into her hands
and then ran away as fast as ever he could. He recalled how he had twice
been tempted to eat the sweetmeat but had not; and he was glad.
Soon he reached the point where meadows came to meet the forest; and
there, quietly cropping the grass, stood the White-White Horse.
“Did you find your story?” asked a voice, while, as if to accompany the
words, the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes danced, smilingly, toward
him.
“Oh, Pretty Lady, it was a wonderful story,” cried Little Black Bear.
“You see—”
“Not yet,” answered she, “It’s not to be told until we get back to the
menagerie tent. So make haste to scramble to the top of yonder
treestump, while I bring the White-White Horse to the side of it.”
A moment later, Little Black Bear had climbed to his place and, just as
half-past twilight was about to begin, the three travelers set off with
all speed to rejoin those whom they knew were awaiting them.