bulk of Mother Bruin kept it warm and of an even temperature.

Before the snow had disappeared the old bear left the cave each day,
driven forth by hunger after her long winter fast, but the cubs remained
at home until the north wind with its blizzards was forced to retreat
before the balmy wind of the south. Then they tumbled out into the
sunshine, blinking and rubbing their eyes with their little black paws
at the abrupt change from dusk to bright daylight.

It was a wonderful world in which they found themselves. Patches of snow
still lingered in the hollows, but the earth was rapidly discarding its
brown winter mantle, replacing it with one of living green. The
gracefully drooping branches of a group of birch trees standing beside
the stream were delicately filmed with green; the air was sweet with the
breath of arbutus; and from a tree close beside the swollen brook
drifted the six plaintive notes of a white-throated sparrow.

Scraping away the dry leaves under a beech tree, Mother Bruin disclosed
a few of the little three-cornered nuts, moldy from their long contact
with the earth but, nevertheless, acceptable food for a bear. A little
farther on she dug for roots in the soft mud at the edge of a swamp, now
vocal with the spring call of the hylas. The cubs followed her, full of
curiosity concerning everything they beheld in this new and fascinating
world.

Several weeks later, while the Hermit was roaming the woods with his
familiar brown bag upon his back, he was granted the rare privilege of
watching the bear family when the three were unaware of his presence.
Mother Bruin, as usual, was leading the way, the cubs, as like as two
peas, following single file in her footsteps and imitating her every
move so faithfully that the Hermit chuckled to himself. When the big
bear halted and looked about her, the small bears also halted and looked
eagerly about; when she sniffed at a fallen log, they, too, sniffed; and
once when she sneezed, the cubs looked curiously at her and then tried
faithfully to imitate the sound.

The ants were busy making their community dwellings and when Mother
Bruin paused to lick up a mouthful, two little red tongues joined hers,
the cubs smacking their lips over the treat. At length, their hunger
satisfied, the family stopped under a great pine and the cubs began a
rough and tumble game, while Mother Bruin sat on her haunches, keenly
watchful of every move. Occasionally, for no reason whic