120 WILD BROTHER 
had crystallized round the cork, then pulled the 
stopper out and thrust his long pink tongue deep 
into the neck of the jug, till it caught the flavor of 
the molasses down below. 
Cook discovered him just in time to prevent a 
catastrophe. A moment later and the jug would 
have been pouring its contents out on the floor. 
Already he had tipped over a pitcher of cream, and 
pulled several pots and pans from their position 
on the shelves. 
“Get out of here, you black rascal!” cried the 
mistress of the kitchen; and to emphasize her de- 
mand, she belabored Bruno’s hind-quarters with the 
flat of her broom, as, licking his chops, he galloped 
through the door. 
Bruno spent the greater part of his second Bel- 
mont winter in his retreat beneath the ground, 
coming out for food only when the days were 
warm. If for any reason I wished to see him, how- 
ever, I had merely to say: “Foxy, go fetch him,” 
and the dog soon dragged the drowsy sleeper, 
yawning and protesting, up into the light of day. 
Early in the spring, as the days grew warmer and 
the frost was leaving the ground, there came a™ 
morning of great excitement. Bruno dug out of his 
retreat. The thawing earth near the entrance to 
his den had slipped away and left a small opening 
beneath the foundation of the cage. Through this 
