Twinkly sniffed and sniffed.

From the tumble-down shack on the mountain-side came the most wonderful odor! It fairly made his mouth water.

But still his natural cunning bade him sniff all about the place before he ventured within. Though there were hobnailed footprints everywhere, the man-scent had long since disappeared.

That twisting thunder-storm last July was doubtless to blame for the charred and crumbling appearance of the side the door was on. There was nothing to keep him from walking straight inside.

There were a number of iron kettles in the shack, and into each of these Twinkly sniffed with interest. But they were clean and empty. Where, then, did that sugary odor come from? Ah, over in one corner, where it had fallen, lay a wooden cask. This, Twinkly’s wriggling nose told him, was the place. Inside this cask was the delicious something that made his mouth water so. Successive wettings, as rain and wind had pummeled through the side of the shack, had wet the contents till they were oozing liquidly through the cracks.

Twinkly Eyes put out his tongue and licked the sides, then set joyously to work with his curved claws to tear an opening into the thing.

So suddenly that it struck him square in the face, the half of one stave came off. Then he broke off another, and after that a third. The keg had not been full, and the part he had torn an opening into was the empty part. But Twinkly didn’t care. He simply thrust his head in and licked, and licked, and licked at the sugary cake.

He could just reach it with the red tip of that greedy tongue. There was nothing he could reach with his jaws. And presently he began to twist and wiggle in the effort to get more.

By dint of much shoving he finally got his head clear inside the cask. Then he was happy. My, how that bear enjoyed the next half-hour! By stretching his neck farther and farther through the narrow opening he could just scrape the delicious contents with his teeth.

His jaws dripped with the combined delights of an-tic-i-pa-tion and real-i-za-tion. That the feast would continue till the last crumb was gone he had no doubt whatever. Not Twinkly Eyes!

By and by, however, stretch as he might, he could thrust his head no farther, and he could reach no more. Then what a time there was, as the little Bear tried to pull himself out of the barrel.

And as he jerked and banged about in growing alarm, his heels sent everything in the cabin spinning about his shanks.

When finally his head came free quite suddenly, he sat down with such violence that he went sliding across the floor with the huge iron kettle over-turned on top of him. And, of course, being unable to see what it was that had imprisoned him, he struck out still more viciously.