A DREADFUL NIGHT FOR A LITTLE BEAR
A lot of people, great and small,
Are like a frightened little Bear--
Where danger there is none at all
They somehow get a dreadful scare.
_Mother Bear._
More and more Black Shadows crept through the Green Forest and all
around Boxer, the lone, lost little Bear, as he sat crying and wishing
with all his might that he never, never had thought of running away.
He wanted to be back in the great windfall which had been his home. He
wanted Mother Bear. “Boo, hoo, hoo,” sobbed the little Bear, “I would
just as soon have a spanking. I wouldn’t mind it at all if only I had
my Mother. Boo, hoo, hoo.”
Now there are many keen ears in the Green Forest after dark, and no one
can cry there and not be heard. Hooty the Owl was the first to hear
those sobs, and on wings that made no sound at all he flew to see what
was the matter. Perched on top of a tall stump just back of Boxer, it
didn’t take Hooty long to understand that this little Bear was lost.
“He needs a lesson,” thought Hooty. “He needs a lesson. He must have
run away from home. There is nothing around here for him to fear, but
it will be a good thing for him to think here is. Here goes to give him
a scare he won’t forget in a hurry.”
Hooty drew a long breath and then hooted as only he can. It was so
sudden, so loud and so fierce, that it was enough to frighten even one
accustomed to it. Boxer, who never had heard that call close at hand
before, was so frightened he lost his balance and fell over on his
back, his legs waving helplessly. But he didn’t stay on his back. I
should say not! In a twinkling he was on his feet and running pell-mell.
Again rang out Hooty’s terrible hunting call, and Boxer was sure
that it was right at his heels. As a matter of fact, Hooty had not
moved from the tall stump. Headlong Boxer raced through the woods. And
because it was quite dark and because he was trying to look behind him,
instead of watching where he was going, he pitched heels over head down
the bank of the Laughing Brook, splash into a little pool where Billy
Mink was fishing. The tumble and the wetting frightened the little Bear
more than ever, and Billy Mink’s angry snarl didn’t make him feel any
better. Without so much as a glance at Billy Mink, he scrambled to his
feet and up the bank, sure that a new and terrible enemy was at his
heels.
More heedlessly than ever he raced through the Green Forest and just by
chance entered the thicket where Mrs. Lightfoot the Deer had a certain
wonderful secret. Mrs. Lightfoot jumped, making a crash of brush.
“Oh-oo,” moaned Boxer, dodging to one side and continuing headlong.
When he could run no more, he crept under a pile of brush and there
he spent the rest of the night, the most dreadful night he ever had
known or was likely ever to know again. Old Man Coyote happened along
and yelled as only he can, and unless you know what it is, that sound
is quite dreadful. Boxer never had heard it close at hand before, and
he didn’t recognize it. He was sure that only a great and terrible
creature could make such a dreadful noise, and he shook with fear for
an hour after.
So all night long the little Bear heard strange sounds and imagined
dreadful things and couldn’t get a wink of sleep. And all the time not
once was any real danger near him. There wasn’t a single thing to be
afraid of.
[Illustration: HE PITCHED HEELS OVER HEAD DOWN THE BANK OF THE LAUGHING
BROOK. _Page 162._]