Fuzzy-Wuzz, a little brown bear of the Sierras

OLD FRIENDS

THE children had climbed high that day with their berry pails.

Wiggledy had gone bounding on ahead, threatening every squirrel and chipmunk with the most ferocious barks. Suddenly he began sniffing at the ground in a way that attracted the children’s curiosity, then went bounding off with joyful yelps.

“What can it be?” wondered the little girl. “He never ran away and left us like that before.”

“Let’s go along and find out,” proposed the boy.

They had to run to keep the dog in sight. Sometimes he would stop and peer into the branches of a tree, then sniff about underneath. Then off he would race again, nose to the ground, uttering happy yelps and whimpers.

The way he led them zig-zagged this way and that, but always it took them higher. At last they found themselves away up on the mountain side almost to timber line. Then Wiggledy disappeared in a berry patch too thorny for them to follow.

As they stood waiting and calling for him to come back, and filling their pails from the berries within reach, the little girl began staring at the rocks further up. When the boy glimpsed her frightened eyes he, too, stared in the direction she was gazing.

From behind a mammoth bowlder peered a huge brown head, with a long yellowish snout.

Slowly a huge, furry form came lumbering forth, walking awkwardly flat-footed, wagging its head from side to side. It was headed straight toward them.

Now it arose to its full height, sniffing the breeze and peering apparently right at them with its near-sighted little eyes. Then down on all fours again went the shaggy beast. It was a brown bear,—the largest they had ever seen.

The children didn’t know which way to turn. Of course they knew, as their father had often told them, that a brown bear will not harm human kind, unless wounded or cornered or trying to defend its young. But how could they be sure this bear had not been wounded, or had no cubs somewhere hidden among the rocks and thought they were after them!

The little girl was in for running, but the boy sternly bade her stay still and show no fear. Wiggledy was still racing around in the berry patch with his nose to the ground. Just then the wind veered. With a frantic yelp the dog went flying straight toward the bear.

“Wiggledy! Come back!” called the boy, frightened lest the bear would kill him. But the dog raced on.

Then something happened that left them speechless with amazement. The little dog and the big bear began romping together just as had the pup and the yearling cub the year before.

“It IS Fuzzy-Wuzz!” cried the boy. “Come here, you old rascal you,” and he fished a hunk of gingerbread from his pocket and strode up to the bear.

The bear shambled toward him eagerly, and took the tid-bit from his hand. It was Fuzzy-Wuzz, his old friends not forgotten, though he had taken to the wild where he belonged.

THE END