All morning the Bears came and went or wandered near my hiding-place
without discovering me; and, except for one or two brief quarrels, there
was nothing very exciting to note. But about three in the afternoon it
became more lively.
{Illustration}
There were then four large Bears feeding on the heap. In the middle
was Fatty, sprawling at full length as he feasted, a picture of placid
ursine content, puffing just a little at times as he strove to save
himself the trouble of moving by darting out his tongue like a long red
serpent, farther and farther, in quest of the titbits just beyond claw
reach.
Behind him Slim Jim was puzzling over the anatomy and attributes of
an ancient lobster. It was something outside his experience, but the
principle, "In case of doubt take the trick," is well known in Bearland,
and it settled the difficulty.
The other two were clearing out fruit-tins with marvellous dexterity.
One supple paw would hold the tin while the long tongue would dart again
and again through the narrow opening, avoiding the sharp edges, yet
cleaning out the can to the last taste of its sweetness.
This pastoral scene lasted long enough to be sketched, but was ended
abruptly. My eye caught a movement on the hilltop whence all the Bears
had come, and out stalked a very large Blackbear with a tiny cub. It was
Grumpy and Little Johnny.
The old Bear stalked down the slope toward the feast, and Johnny hitched
alongside, grumbling as he came, his mother watching him as solicitously
as ever a hen did her single chick. When they were within thirty yards
of the garbage-heap, Grumpy turned to her son and said something which,
judging from its effect, must have meant: "Johnny, my child, I think you
had better stay here while I go and chase those fellows away."
Johnny obediently waited; but he wanted to _see_, so he sat up on his
hind legs with eyes agog and ears acock.
Grumpy came striding along with dignity, uttering warning growls as she
approached the four Bears. They were too much engrossed to pay any heed
to the fact that yet another one of them was coming, till Grumpy, now
within fifteen feet, let out a succession of loud coughing sounds, and
charged into them. Strange to say, they did not pretend to face her,
but, as soon as they saw who it was, scattered and all fled for the
woods.
Slim Jim could safely trust his heels, and the other two were not far
behind; but poor Fatty, puffing hard and waddling like any other very
fat creature, got along but slowly, and, unluckily for him, he fled in
the direction of Johnny, so that Grumpy overtook him in a few bounds
and gave him a couple of sound slaps in the rear which, if they did not
accelerate his pace, at least made him bawl, and saved him by changing
his direction. Grumpy, now left alone in possession of the feast, turned
toward her son and uttered the whining _Er-r-r Er-r-r Er-r-r-r,_ Johnny
responded eagerly. He came "hoppity-hop" on his three good legs as fast
as he could, and, joining her on the garbage, they began to have such a
good time that Johnny actually ceased grumbling.
{Illustration}
He had evidently been there before now, for he seemed to know quite well
the staple kinds of canned goods. One might almost have supposed that he
had learned the brands, for a lobster-tin had no charm for him as long
as he could find those that once were filled with jam. Some of the tins
gave him much trouble, as he was too greedy or too clumsy to escape
being scratched by the sharp edges. One seductive fruit-tin had a hole
so large that he found he could force his head into it, and for a few
minutes his joy was full as he licked into all the farthest corners.
But when he tried to draw his head out, his sorrows began, for he found
himself caught. He could not get out, and he scratched and screamed like
any other spoiled child, giving his mother no end of concern, although
she seemed not to know how to help him. When at length he got the tin
off his head, he revenged himself by hammering it with his paws till it
was perfectly flat.
A large syrup-can made him happy for a long time. It had had a lid, so
that the hole was round and smooth; but it was not big enough to admit
his head, and he could not touch its riches with his tongue stretched
out its longest. He soon hit on a plan, however. Putting in his little
black arm, he churned it around, then drew out and licked it clean; and
while he licked one he got the other one ready; and he did this again
and again, until the {Illustration: A Syrup-tin Kept Him Happy for
a Long Time} can was as clean inside as when first it had left the
factory.
A broken mouse-trap seemed to puzzle him. He clutched it between his
fore paws, their strong inturn being sympathetically reflected in his
hind feet, and held it firmly for study. The cheesy smell about it was
decidedly good, but the thing responded in such an uncanny way, when he
slapped it, that he kept back a cry for help only by the exercise of
unusual self-control. After gravely inspecting it, with his head first
on this side and then on that, and his lips puckered into a little
tube, he submitted it to the same punishment as that meted out to the
refractory fruit-tin, and was rewarded by discovering a nice little bit
of cheese in the very heart of the culprit.
{Illustration}
Johnny had evidently never heard of ptomaine-poisoning, for nothing came
amiss. After the jams and fruits gave out he turned his attention to the
lobster- and sardine-cans, and was not appalled by even the army beef.
His paunch grew quite balloon-like, and from much licking, his arms
looked thin and shiny, as though he was wearing black silk gloves.