The Story of Ben 41 



steaming from the warmth of his house. I often tried 

 to get him to eat at such times, but he would only- 

 smell of the food; then he would stand up on his hind 

 feet with his forepaws against my shoulders, lap my 

 face and hands with his tongue, and crawl back to his 

 nest. Several times I crept down into his den to find 

 out how he slept. He was curled up much as a dog 

 would be and seemed simply to be having a good nap. 

 The amount of heat that his body gave out was as- 

 tonishing. I have thrust my hand under him as he 

 slept and it actually felt hot. The steam, too, that 

 came up through the cracks of the floor of the carriage- 

 house not only covered the carriage with frost but 

 coated the whole inside of the room. 



For more than a year, or until he got so large and 

 rough that he broke the rockers from several chairs 

 that he upset in his mad gallops around the rooms, he 

 was allowed the privilege of the house. He used to 

 stand up and touch the keys of the piano gently, then 

 draw back and listen as long as the vibration lasted. 

 He was fond, too, of being dragged about on his back 

 by a rope that he held fast in his teeth. He never tired 

 of this sport and would get his rope and pester you 

 until you gave him a drag to get rid of him. He had 

 several playthings with which he would amuse himself 

 for hours, and one of these was a block of wood that had 

 replaced the rope ball that he had been used to juggle 

 on his trip through the Bitter Roots. Another was 



