A ROLLICKING ROGUE
About Thanksgiving time Black Bruin suddenly disappeared, and although
the premises were searched, no trace of him could be found.
Finally, after two or three days, his master gave up the hunt,
concluding that the bear had obeyed the wild instinct in his nature and
returned to the woods. He had no doubt that he was snugly curled up in
some hollow tree where he would sleep away the winter months. Whether
he would ever return to them or not, was a matter of conjecture.
All the family mourned his loss, especially the baby, who cried half a
day for "Bar-Bar," as he called the bear.
One cold December evening when the farmer was bedding down the horse,
he imagined he heard a deep, steady breathing under the barn floor, and
after listening for some time, was sure of it. His first thought was
that some neighbor's dog had gone under the barn to sleep, so he went
and lifted up a trap-door that led to the cellar, which was not deep.
He whistled for the dog to come out, but no dog appeared. He could
still hear the breathing and was much mystified by it, so he got a
lantern and went under the barn to settle his doubts.
To his great astonishment he found Black Bruin curled up in one corner,
nearly covered with old hay that he had scraped together for the
purpose.
He was very sleepy, and only grunted when the man touched him with his
foot and spoke to him. As he seemed well content with the winter
quarters that he had selected, the man left him and went back to his
chores.
Not until the middle of March did he again appear, although different
members of the family often went to the trap-door and called for him to
come out. He seemed to be obeying a strongly rooted habit in the bear
nature, and he doubtless knew what was best for a sturdy cub like
himself.
One warm March morning the mistress thought she heard some one in the
back room, and supposing that a neighbor had come in, opened the door.
The intruder was no stranger to the family, for there was Black Bruin,
standing on his hind legs, licking off the sticky outside of a
maple-syrup pail. He had remembered his old delight in syrup.
Perhaps he had even got a whiff of the sweet on the spring air, and his
nose had told him what was going on. The bear's scent is very keen,
and this and his acute hearing make up for his poor eyesight.
Black Bruin, on his reappearance, was at once taken back into the
family's affection, and petted and spoiled, all of which seemed to suit
him admirably.
For a week or two, however, he would eat very little, and appeared to
come to his appetite gradually. At first the good people thought he
was sick, but an old woodsman explained to them that the bear was
always fastidious after hibernation. In the wild state he will eat
only buds and grasses, and perhaps a very few roots. He is wise, after
the way of the wild beasts, and knows that his digestive organs are not
in condition to do hard work; but when the right hour comes, he will
have a meal that will make up for much fasting.
The roguishness and capacity for mischief that Black Bruin had shown
during his first year of cubhood, increased tenfold, as he grew older
and stronger.
Tree-climbing, which he had learned late in the summer of his first
year, became a passion with him. He climbed the elms and the maples
along the road and the fruit trees in the orchard. In the barn, too,
he clambered about on the scaffolds and pried into all the corners with
his inquisitive nose.
A neighbor's boy often came to the farmhouse to romp and wrestle with
the bear-cub. Nothing pleased him more than a rough-and-tumble, and he
was quite an expert wrestler, once he learned how to floor his
adversary.
Whenever two or three boys came into the farmyard, if Black Bruin was
anywhere about, he would shuffle up to them and rearing upon his hind
legs, invite them, in the plainest language, "to come on."
His master also taught him to hold a broom in his arms in imitation of
a gun, and march up and down like a soldier. When this feat was
performed by their shaggy friend, the children would shout with
delight, at which the cub would loll out his tongue and seem greatly
pleased. He appeared to understand clearly that they thought him the
smartest bear in the world.
His old trick of hunting for hens' nests now recurred to him, and he
returned to it with renewed zest. In fact, Black Bruin seemed not to
forget any of his many forms of mischief, but rapidly acquired new ones
as well.
He not only hunted hens' nests outside, but frequently broke into the
hen-house, just like any other chicken thief, and ate eggs freely.
He always skulked into a corner when caught and seemed to expect the
thrashing that he got for such thieving.
He followed the farm-hands into the hay-field, as he had done the year
before, to look for bumblebees' nests, but he was not content with
lawful plunder.
One day the haymakers took their dinner to a distant field where they
expected to spend the day. All went well until the dinner-hour came,
when it was discovered that Black Bruin had tipped over the coffee jug,
pulled out the cork, and probably licked up the sweetened fluid. He
had also opened the dinner-basket, and only a few crumbs and some
pickles remained of what would have been dinner for three men.
To add insult to injury, the vagabond was lying asleep upon the
farmer's coat which he had thrown upon the ground, having a fine nap
after his hearty meal.
There was nothing to do but for all hands to go back to the farmhouse
for dinner.
The farmer had surrounded his beehives with a strong, high, barbed wire
fence, and had thought them quite safe even from the prying curiosity
of his bear-cub, but one day he found out differently.
On hearing a great humming about the hives, as though the bees were
swarming, he went to investigate. There in the midst of the hives was
the old honey thief. He had dug a hole in the ground and had crawled
under the barbed wire fence. Two of the hives were overturned and
pulled to pieces, and the contents of half a dozen sections licked out.
This was almost too much to bear, but the good-natured farmer dug a
trench under the fence, and placed another barbed wire lower down, and
the bees were safe for a time.
Sweet apples and pears were also to Black Bruin's liking. This was all
right in itself, but it led to other things.
One summer morning while the farmer was milking, he was startled by
hearing apples coming down in showers from the Golden Sweet tree back
of the barn. Thinking that some mischievous boy had climbed the tree
and was shaking off apples for sport, he rushed into the back yard,
determined to punish the offender severely.
"Here, you rascal," he shouted as he neared the tree, "what in the
world are you trying to do?"
The shaking in the tree ceased immediately, but at first the man could
not locate the truant. Finally he discovered Black Bruin away up in
the top of the tree, where he was well screened by the thick foliage.
"Come down here," cried the farmer in considerable wrath. "Come down
here and I'll give you a good drubbing."
Black Bruin clearly understood from the man's tone that he was angry,
so he stayed where he was.
The man then threw apples at him, but they had no more effect upon the
culprit than did the grass upon the bad boy in the fable; so the farmer
got a long pole and prodded the apple thief until he whined and came
scratching down the tree.
Black Bruin was very fond of the Golden Sweets, especially when they
were baked, and probably thinking that there were not enough on the
ground for family use, he had taken matters into his own hands. He
seemed very penitent, however, so the family finally forgave him, as
they had done so many times before.
When the following week he tried the same tactics upon a winter
pear-tree, the consequences were more serious. Black Bruin not only
got a good drubbing for the prank, but his master secured a dog-collar
and chained him to a maple-tree in the yard.
For a while he pulled and sulked, but finally, seeing that it was
useless, he yielded to the chain. He would beg so hard, though, to be
let loose whenever any one went through the yard, that he was always
allowed to be unchained and go free, when the family were about and
could watch him.
Once the chain and collar, together with the bear's uneasiness, nearly
cost the cub's life. He would climb up the tree to which he was tied
as far as the chain would allow him to go, and, while playing various
antics on the lower limbs of the tree, he fell. The chain was on one
side of the limb and he was on the other, where he dangled like a
culprit on the gallows.
He kicked and choked and tried desperately to catch the limb with his
fore-paws, but it was just out of reach and there seemed nothing for
him to do but strangle.
The tighter the collar grew and the shorter became his breath the more
he kicked and thrashed, until finally the collar broke, and the
half-strangled bear fell to the ground with a great thud. Feeling that
he had been cruelly treated and insulted, he picked himself up with a
groan and a growl, and making for the woods, was not seen again for two
days.
Finally Black Bruin returned to his friends, having had enough of wild
life for that time. He seemed delighted to see them again and wanted
to be petted more than ever, and, as if to make amends for his recent
bad behavior, was very good for a couple of weeks.
One day the farmer took a super of honey from one of the hives in the
back yard, and, as a sort of reward of merit, gave Black Bruin a pound
for his share.
This was an imprudent act upon the part of the bear's master, for honey
to the bear is what whisky is to the drunkard. Not that it intoxicated
him, but he craved it with an almost insatiate desire.
This pound was but a taste, so he fell to watching the hives again and
perhaps plotting as to how he might get at their contents. But the
hives seemed quite safe. They were surrounded by a barbed wire fence
six feet high. They were located under a broad spreading apple-tree,
however, and this fact gave Black Bruin his chance.
He waited until the farmer had gone to a distant field to work, then
climbed into the tree, and out on a long limb that overhung the hives.
The limb bent lower and lower until it nearly touched the barbed wire
fence, but it was just strong enough for him to make the spring and
land in the midst of the hives.
The good housewife heard the humming and buzzing as the bees swarmed
out to punish the intruder, and looking out of the back window,
discovered the thief.
Not much damage had been done, as he had been detected almost at the
outset; but one thing was now certain; the hives would not be safe from
Black Bruin any longer.
So the farmer repaired the broken collar and again secured the bear to
the maple, and once more he took up the life of a convict.
But it must not be imagined that Black Bruin led a very lonely life
even upon the chain, for the children frequently took him berrying, or
to the deep woods for nuts.
When the apples had been picked and most of the honey taken from the
hives, he was again given the freedom of the place to come and go as he
wished.
But the very worst of all Black Bruin's mischief and thieving came
about the second week in November, when he had been upon his good
behavior for several weeks, and the family hoped that he had reformed.
One night the household was awakened by the most violent and persistent
squealing of a pig. It did not seem to be any of the pigs at the farm,
but the sound came from down the road and it steadily drew nearer to
the buildings.
What it all meant the farmer could not imagine, so he hurriedly dressed
and went out-of-doors to find out.
He was just in time to see Black Bruin come shambling into the yard
carrying a pig, of perhaps twelve pounds' weight, in his mouth. He was
holding him by one hind leg and the load was so heavy that the culprit
could barely keep the poor pig's nose from dragging on the ground.
The farmer at once went to his assistance and rescued him, to the great
disgust of Black Bruin, who growled and plainly gave his master to
understand that he considered the pig his own property. He had not got
him out of the home sty, so that his master had no right to interfere.
Again Black Bruin paid the penalty for misbehavior and was chained up,
while next morning, the farmer had the humiliation of carrying the pig
home.
After about a week more of life upon the chain, the culprit slipped his
collar and disappeared. This time the farmer remembered his
disappearance of the fall before and finally looked under the barn,
where he found him curled up for his winter's sleep.