MAY-TIME IN THE FOREST 45 



doubtless, inherited, for all black bears are good 

 wild-bee hunters. They highly prize wild honey, 

 and when they find a bee tree quickly tear it apart. 

 With paws and face daubed with the gluey golden 

 liquid, and besieged by thousands of angry buzz- 

 ing bees, Bruin enjoys his stolen fruit. Grunting 

 with satisfaction, he champs his jaws, stopping now 

 and then to sneeze, and with his sticky paws to 

 wipe away the swarm of infuriated insects that are 

 crawling over his face and eyes. His fur is so thick 

 and heavy that his enemies seldom find a vulner- 

 able point of attack. 



But our Bruno had no enemy to fight when he 

 ate his honey, of which there was a good stock in 

 Gordon's camp. Oh, no, the pampered pet 

 honey was fed to him in an iron spoon. His beady 

 black eyes rolled around in ecstasy, while his round 

 woolly sides twitched with pleasure and excite- 

 ment, as, smacking his lips, he wound his long pink 

 tongue round the honey-covered spoon. 



We had brought in with us some fruit and candy 

 for the children. While they were receiving these 

 little gifts with shouts of delight, we heard a curi- 

 ous scratching noise under the table and there 

 was Bruno in the middle of our suit-case, over- 

 hauling the contents with his mischievous paws. 

 Collars and socks, neckties and hair-brushes, were 

 scattered hither and yon, as in frantic haste he 



