THE END OF THE TRAIL 135 



formed about him, since one of the surgeons was a 

 friend of mine. 



Mr. Weldon spent a month in the hospital in 

 Boston, and the surgeons felt that the operation 

 had been successful. During his convalescence I 

 took him one day to the Fells Reservation, to call 

 upon the bear. As we walked about among the 

 cages, I so managed that we came on Bruno's 

 quarters suddenly. The bear, as we stopped in the 

 path directly in front of his cage and only a few 

 feet away, was standing on his hind-legs at his 

 full height. 



"That can't be Bruno!" exclaimed Weldon, as 

 he gazed in wonder at the huge beast. Then, 

 addressing the bear, he soliloquized : "When I saw 

 you last, you was a little cub and only weighed 

 eleven pounds. My God," he added in a husky 

 awe-struck voice, still speaking to the bear, "when 

 I think of what you was in my family and what 

 you have done for me and mine ! Great Heaven, 

 ain't it wonderful, Mr. Underwood," he said to 

 me, "how this thing has turned out?" 



A week later I received this characteristic letter 

 from the friendly grocer: 



I went to the stable at 4.30 this morning, to 

 feed my horse, and on my return I noticed a famil- 

 iar smile playing around (or nearly around) the 



