30 WILD BROTHER 
up that she had been foster-sister to a bear. “It 
would be fine, sir,” said he, “if you could only 
think of some such name.” 
I told him that, after I reached home, I would do 
my best to find one that would be appropriate. 
My head was now too full of this strange adventure 
to give heed to anything else. 
The next thing on my programme was to get a 
picture of Bruno; but this was not so easy. He 
was a helpless little creature, not yet able to 
stand up on his legs and walk, though with his fat 
little black-clothed body resting on the floor, he 
could wriggle and push himself about to some ex- 
tent, like a baby just learning to creep. On Feb- 
ruary Ig, the day before my arrival, he had opened 
his eyes for the first time. “I guess he heard you 
were coming, Mr. Underwood, and he wanted to 
see you,” said one of the little girls. The natural- 
history books tell us that black bear-cubs get their 
eyes open when they are thirty or forty days old, 
so this would make Bruno’s birthday about the 
15th of January. 
First, I weighed and measured him. From the 
end of his short stubby tail, which was only five 
eighths of an inch long, to the end of his nose, his 
length was twelve and a half inches. From the end 
of his nose to the back of his head, he measured 
three inches. Around his stocky little chest, the 
