"That won't do it. You can teach him better with kindness. Throw that stick away. Aren't you ashamed of yourself."
"Minda yo' own biz," was the insolent reply.
The little boy saw that it would not be safe to stay there any longer. The cub was whining pitifully and Horatio was becoming furious. He turned away, the Bear following reluctantly. When they had gone perhaps a half a mile Horatio paused.
"Let's camp here," he said. "This is a nice place and I'm tired."
Bosephus was tired, too. The day before Christmas with its merry preparation had been a big day among the plantations and the friends had reaped a harvest.
"All right, Ratio," he said, and they made preparations for the night, though it was still quite early.
"MAKA HIM GROW AN' DANCE AN' PLAY A 'FID'."
"Bo," said the Bear, reflectively, "Christmas always reminds me of when I was a little cub like that poor little fellow we saw back yonder. I was a Christmas present—by accident."
"A Christmas present by accident! How was that?"