THE BEAR MAKES A JOURNEY 69 



was like a monkey ; he could pull out a drawer, and 

 open a door if it were unlatched. Standing up on 

 his hind-legs, he would whine and smell at the 

 crack of the food-room door, and, unless it was 

 latched, his long prying claws could open it quite 

 easily. Nothing within his reach was safe. 



When there was no fire burning, he liked to 

 climb into the fireplace and up one of the andirons 

 to the black iron pot that hung on the crane. With 

 one paw he would tilt it over, and stick in his head, 

 to see if by chance any food had been left there 

 that might be to his liking. Sometimes in the even- 

 ing, as I sat by the fire reading, the bear would shin 

 up the back of my chair, climb to my shoulder, and 

 slap the book from my hand ; then, if he felt drowsy, 

 he would climb down, curl up in my lap, and drop 

 off to sleep. 



We let him run about the camp pretty much 

 wherever he wished. One place, however, he was 

 supposed not to enter the sleeping-room. But 

 whenever he was missing, we could be almost sure 

 of finding him there. One day from this forbidden 

 room there came a dismal howl of pain. I ran to 

 the door, and sure enough Bruno was in serious 

 trouble. He had jumped from the chair to one of 

 the beds ; then, mounting the post, he had climbed 

 to the shelf overhead. On this shelf I had left some 

 fishing-tackle a long gut leader, with three fly- 



