THE BEAR COLONY AT LAST. THE PARTING
OF BOSEPHUS AND HORATIO
"Oh, the wind blows fair and the snow is gone
In the Arkansaw when the spring comes on.
Oh, the sun shines warm and the wind blows fair,
For the boy and the cub and the Old—Black—Bear."
SO sang Bosephus and Horatio as they sat side by side in the doorway of a deserted lumberman's cabin in the depths of an Arkansaw forest. The cub rescued from the brutal Italian and brought with them on their hasty journey out of Louisiana, stood a few feet away watching them intently. Now and then he made an awkward attempt at dancing, which caused Bosephus and Horatio to stop their music and laugh. He had grown fat and saucy with good treatment, and seemed to enjoy the amusement he caused. At a little distance behind him, some seated and some standing, and all enjoying the entertainment, were seven other bears of various sizes. The colony so long planned by Horatio and Bosephus was established.
The long journey out of Louisiana had been made rapidly and with no delays. Though midwinter when begun, the weather had been beautiful at the start, and there had been few storms and but little cold since. The cub had gradually confided his story to Horatio, who loved him and continued to call him affectionately "little brother." He had been captured in a very deep woods, he said, by hunters, who sold him to the Italian. He did not know where these woods were, but as the friends crossed the Louisiana line and entered lower Arkansaw he grew more and more excited every day, for he declared these were so like his native woods that he could almost hear his mother's voice crooning the evening lullaby. Soon after, they came one evening upon a deserted lumberman's camp and took possession of the one cabin that still remained. It was a good shelter and there was a stream with fine fish in it close at hand. But when the friends awoke next morning the little bear was gone.
They were very sorry, for they had grown much attached to the little chap and he had seemed to be fond of them also. It was very lonely in the deep forest without him. Horatio sighed.
"He didn't appreciate us, Bo," he said, sadly. "He's gone back to be a wild bear. He never got the taste of men—tastes, I mean, and I suppose these woods made him homesick. They are like my old woods, too, and I get homesick sometimes—even now." Then the boy and the Bear went to the brook to fish and the day passed gloomily.
But that night, when Bo had built a fire in the big fireplace which almost filled one end of the cabin, and was cooking the fish, there came a muffled scratching sound at the door. Horatio sprang to his feet instantly.
"That's Cub," he said, excitedly.
The boy ran to the door and opened it. Sure enough, the little cub stood before him, and out of the darkness behind gleamed seven other pairs of eyes. The boy was brave, but as he saw that row of fiery orbs he felt his flesh creep and his hair began to prickle.
"Horatio!" he called, softly, "come quick."