MAINLY ABOUT BEARS 39 



drag him through. He refused to descend the 

 stairs until a piece of cake tempted him. Mose 

 would have followed a piece of cake straight up 

 to Roosevelt's gun. 



Poor old Mose! I never tired of talking to 

 him; with his bear head cocked on one side and his 

 little black eyes following the movement of my 

 lips, he would listen as though he understood, but, 

 in fact, waiting, for he knew that he would get a 

 lump of sugar before the confab ended. 



The farmhands teased him. He grew grad- 

 ually morose, ugly and dangerous, and then his 

 end came. The household was in mourning for a 

 week. 



Moved by interest in Mose, I made a study of 

 bears, sought their society wherever I could, and 

 am told that I have gained much from them, 

 especially as to my manners before breakfast. 

 Of course, I am no expert, simply a catechumen; 

 but I know a heap of things about bears, and, when 

 I heard of the bears in the Yellowstone, they 

 decided me. 



