scorn. They screamed
when he growled, and ran away if he stretched out a paw at them. When,
therefore, he had found himself once more in the vast responsible
freedom of the forest, and reviving with some difficulty the
half-forgotten art of shifting for himself, he had given a wide berth
to the hunters' shacks and the cabins of lumbermen and pioneers. But
when, on the other hand, he had come upon Mrs. Gammit's clearing, and
realized, after long and cautious investigations, that its presiding
genius was nothing more formidable than one of those petticoated
creatures who trembled at his growl, he had licked his chops with
pleasant anticipation. Here, at last, was his opportunity,--the
flesh-pots of servitude, with freedom.

Nevertheless, the old bear was prudent. He would not presume too
quickly, or too far, upon the harmlessness of a petticoat, and--as he
had observed from a dense blackberry thicket on the other side of the
fence, while she was at work hoeing her potatoes--there was an air
about Mrs. Gammit which seemed to give her petticoats the lie. He had
watched her for some time before he could quite satisfy himself that
she was a mere woman. Then he had tried some nocturnal experiments on
the garden, sampling the young squashes which were Mrs. Gammit's
peculiar pride, and finding them so good that he had thought surely
something would happen. Nothing did happen, however, because Mrs.
Gammit slept heavily; and her indignation in the morning he had not
been privileged to view.

After this he had grown bolder--though always under cover of night. He
had sampled everything in the garden--the abundance of his foot-prints
convincing Mrs. Gammit that there was also an abundance of bears. From
the garden, at length, he had ventured to the yard and the barn. In a
half-barrel, in a corner of the shed, he had stumbled upon the
ill-fated white top-knot hen, faithfully brooding her eggs. Undeterred
by her heroic scolding, and by the trifling annoyance of her feathers
sticking in his teeth, he had made a very pleasant meal of her. And
still he had heard nothing from Mrs. Gammit, who, for all her
indignation, could not depart from her custom of sound sleeping. If he
had taken the trouble to return in the morning, he might have
perceived that the good lady was far from pleased, and that there was
likely to be something doing before long if he continued to take such
liberties with her. And then, as we have seen, he had found the