CHAPTER X.
It was agreed by all hands at the next meeting, that Bruin must tell the story.
“You have not told a story for a long, long time, Bruin,” said Toto,—“not since we began to meet here; and Granny wants to hear one of your stories; don’t you, Granny?”
“Indeed,” said the grandmother, “I should like very much to hear one of Mr. Bruin’s stories. I am told they are very delightful.”
Mr. Bruin bowed in his peculiar fashion, and murmured something which sounded like “How-wow-mumberygrubble.”
The old lady knew, however, that it was meant for “Thank you, ma’am,” and took the will for the deed.
Bruin sucked his paw thoughtfully for a few minutes; then, raising his head with an air of inspiration,—“Pigeon Pretty,” he asked, “what kind of a bear was that in your story?”
“Really, Bruin, I do not know,” replied the wood-pigeon. “It said ‘a bear,’ that was all.”
“You see,” continued Bruin, “there are so many kinds of bears,—black, brown, cinnamon, grizzly, polar,—really, there is no end to them. I thought, however, that this might possibly have been the Lost Prince of the Poles.”
Here Bruin paused a moment and looked about.
“The Lost Prince of the Poles!” exclaimed Toto. “What a fine name for a story! Tell us now, Bruin; tell us all about him.”
“Listen, then,” said the bear, “and you shall hear about