By the Fireside 179 



THE OLD b'ab's HOME-COMIN* 



"The big lump o' darkness was descendin* tail 

 foremost an' was almost atop o' me when it came 

 to me, like a flash o' light, that I might take the 

 elevator route out o' that stub. 



'^Twistin' the top o' the bag in a knot an' 

 squeezin' it between my knees, with the cubs 

 squirmin' around in it, I grabbed the old gal's 

 tail with one hand an' socked Jim's butcherin' 

 knife into her hindquarters. 



** There was more surprises than one in that 

 b'ar's home-comin'. With a howl that made that 

 old stub tremble she started up, an' there I was 

 clutchin' her tail wi' one hand an' sockin' the 

 knife into her wi' t'other, an' not forgettin' to 

 keep my knees tight together on that bag o ' young 

 b'ars. 



*'Did she stop at the entrance? Nary a stop. 

 She kept on goin' with a jump from the stub an' 

 landed me an' the bag o' cubs on a brush-pile 

 more'n twenty feet away. The tumble broke my 

 holt, but the b'ar never stopped goin' as fur as 

 I could see, 



LOST THE KNIFE 



"Consarn the luck, anyway, says I. What did 

 she want to come interferin' fer an' there I've 

 gone and left that butcherin' knife o' Jim's stick- 

 in' in her back. Dad '11 wallop me sure an' Jim '11 



