BOXER GETS HIS OWN BREAKFAST
True independence he has earned
Who for himself to do has learned.
_Mother Bear._
It seemed to Boxer, the lost little Bear, that that dreadful night
would last forever; that it never would end. Of course, it didn’t last
any longer than a night at that season of the year usually does, and it
wasn’t dreadful at all. The truth is, it was an unusually fine night,
and everybody but Boxer and anxious Mother Bear thought so.
Perhaps you can guess just how glad Boxer was to see the Jolly Little
Sunbeams chase the Black Shadows out of the Green Forest the next
morning. He still felt frightened and very, very lonesome, but things
looked very different by daylight, and he felt very much braver and
bolder.
First of all, he took a nap. All night he had been awake, for he had
been too frightened to sleep. That nap did him a world of good. When he
awoke, he felt quite like another Bear. And the first thing he thought
of was breakfast.
Now always before Mother Bear had furnished Boxer with his breakfast
and with all his other meals. But there was no Mother Bear to do it
this morning, and his stomach was very empty. If anything were to be
put in it, he was the one who would have to put it there.
Just thinking of breakfast made Boxer hungrier than ever. He couldn’t
lie still. He must have something to eat, and he must have it soon. He
crawled out from under the pile of brush, shook himself, and tried to
decide where to go in search of a breakfast. But being lost, of course
he had no idea which way to turn.
“I guess it doesn’t make much difference,” grumbled Boxer. “Whichever
way I go, I guess I’ll find something to eat if I keep going long
enough.”
So Boxer started out. And because he had something on his mind,
something to do, he forgot that he was lonesome, and he forgot to be
afraid. He just couldn’t think of anything but breakfast. Now while he
never had had to get food for himself before, Boxer had watched Mother
Bear getting food and felt that he knew just how to go about it.
He found a thoroughly rotted old stump and pulled it apart. It happened
that he found nothing there to eat. But a few minutes later he forgot
all about this disappointment as he pulled over a small log and saw
ants scurrying in every direction. He promptly swept them into his
mouth with his tongue and smacked his lips at the taste of them. He
didn’t leave that place until not another ant was to be seen.
By and by he dug out certain tender little roots and ate them. How he
knew where to dig for them, he couldn’t have told himself. He just
knew, that was all. Something inside him prompted him to stop and dig,
and he did so.
Once he chased a Wood Mouse into a hole and wasted a lot of time trying
to dig him out. But it was exciting and a lot of fun, so he didn’t mind
much, even when he had to give up. He caught three or four beetles and
near the Laughing Brook surprised a young frog. Altogether he made a
very good breakfast. And because he got it all himself, with no help
from any one, he enjoyed it more than any breakfast he could remember.
And suddenly he felt quite a person of the Great World and quite equal
to taking care of himself. He forgot that he had cried for his mother
only the night before. The Great World wasn’t such a bad place after
all.