CHAPTER XXVI 



SPRING IN THE VALLEY 



WHEREVER berries and fruit are to be found, Black 

 Bruin is sure not to be far off. His limbs are still 

 somewhat heavy and stiff from their long winter 

 sleep, but his greedy tummy is already beginning to 

 rumble. He would willingly lay down his life for 

 fruit, chestnuts, and fresh herbs. Completely ignor- 

 ing the human intruder, Master Bruin sticks tight 

 to the trees and bushes, filling his eager mouth with 

 all the delicacies he can find. So, at least, many an 

 Indian sportsman has told me ; and it is therefore not 

 particularly difficult, especially in autumn, to secure 

 these black rascals by the dozen. 



But it is quite a different matter with his red 

 cousin. In high-lying, desolate, rocky districts the 

 latter spends his solitary, modest existence, living on 

 plants, roots, dead game, squirrels, mice, snakes, and 

 other vermin. His rough, lonely life amongst the 

 heights has made him timid and nervous, and in his 

 over-cautiousness his sense of smell and hearing have 



to serve him well. Long before one can even 



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