“Perhaps not this time, but if he hadn’t stolen those flapjacks, he wouldn’t have been misjudged.”
CHAPTER XXI
WHEN THE WORLD TURNED WHITE
IT certainly was hard, thought Fuzzy-Wuzz, for a cub bear to keep out of trouble.
Back from the camping trip, the Ranger’s children spent much time in the great log barn, and Fuzzy with them. How he did love to turn somersaults in the haymow! Like a furry clown, he would tumble about as if he hadn’t a bone in his body.
Sometimes the hens did not lay in their boxes, and the children used to be sent to hunt eggs, which they would find here and there in the hay. Fuzzy, too, learned to hunt for eggs, though those he found were never seen again, save for the smears of egg yolk on his jaws.
He soon found it was great sport to chase the hens and send them squawking, feathers flying as he caught a mouthful of tail plumage.
He also delighted in coming around at milking time. At first the cows were so uneasy with the little bear around that they would kick their pails over and lower their horns at him. So the Ranger tried to drive him away by milking a stream of milk at him as one would turn on the hose.
Was Fuzzy driven away? On the contrary, he just opened his mouth wide and drank it down. After that he used to come and beg to have them milk into his mouth.
But Fuzzy was finally banished from the barn. The mischievous young rascal caught a pig one day and hugged him till the pig squealed as if he were being killed. A little more and he would have been, for a bear has a powerful hug. It certainly was hard for a fun-loving little bear to keep out of trouble.