Chinook, finding the woods as silent as if he were the only living thing about, paused in his chewing to wriggle his nose at the delicious smelling tidbit, and suddenly he realized that he was famished. What could it be, he asked himself? Not wild honey, but something almost as good! After all, he found himself unhurt, and if that Boy came again, he thought he could hold his own in a tussle.
Gingerly he reached forth a snowy paw to draw the goody nearer, then he licked the brown lump with an inquiring pink tongue. Um! Never in all his short life had he tasted anything better. Bears have a great sweet tooth. He crunched it delightedly.
Now began an experiment that the Boy had performed with other wild folk. Would the cub be too frightened to respond? Stepping quietly into view, he held out a great handful of the tempting lumps, and the little bear sniffed longingly. But at the same time he eyed the blue-overalled biped with not a little suspicion. He remembered, however, that it was the same Boy who had passed them once before, and who had not harmed him; but then Mother Brown Bear had taught him to be wary of what he did not understand.
By and by the Boy threw him another lump of sugar. That was a language he did understand. Chinook snapped it up, and his mouth watered for more. He could smell that the Boy had more to give him. Softly, slowly and ever so unalarmingly, the Boy came a few steps nearer, holding out the sweets, the cub watching intently. It took quite a while, for the little bear had to focus his mind so whole-heartedly on the feast before him as to forget those amazing moments when Boy and Ranger had thrown their coats over his head and fore paws and knotted the rope around his neck. But after all, Chinook had never in all his life received a hurt, and his mother was not there to sound her suspicions. Why not consider the Boy a friend? In the stillness of the mountain twilight the miracle was accomplished, and the furry woods boy allowed the human Boy to feed him.
Then from behind a fallen log not two stones’ throw distant the Boy saw the massive head and shoulders of Mother Brown Bear. That might be a different story. His father saw her too, for from the high little cabin window he called: “Quick! Inside!” Out he drew his revolver, in case the alarmed mother should think it necessary to demolish the cub’s abductor. But the Boy ran indoors, and then both watched from the window.
“Aw, it’s all right!” Chinook assured his mother, and she could tell from one sniff at his sugary face that he had been faring well. But she was still so nervous at having found him gone, and so angry at the thought that he had been captured, that—after nuzzling him all over to make sure no bones were broken—she only grunted a harsh “Come on!” to hide her fear, and led the way rapidly back into the woods, where Snookie waited. But Chinook was brought up so abruptly by his tether that his feet slid out from under him.
“Could I cut him loose?” whispered the Boy.
“No need,” smiled his father, for even as they spoke, Mother Brown Bear came back to gnaw furiously at the rope, and in a moment the little bear was free.
“Now he’ll wear a collar,” laughed the Boy.
“Don’t you believe it! His mother will have the rest of that rope off in no time,” the Ranger reassured him.