The bears grunted, as if to say: “But not in the same place.”
“Now what I want,” continued Balser, regardless of the interruption, “is, that you tell me what you know, if anything, concerning a big one-eared bear that lives hereabouts. Have you ever heard of him?”
Tom gave a grunt, and Jim, who had been studying bear language, said he meant “Yes.”
Jerry then put his nose to Tom’s ear, and whined something in a low voice.
“What does he say, Jim?” asked Balser.
“He says for Tom not to tell you anything until you promise to give them milk,” answered Jim, seriously.
“Jerry, you’re the greatest glutton alive, I do believe,” said Balser; “but if you’ll tell me anything worth knowing about the one-eared bear, I’ll give you the biggest pan of milk you ever saw.”
Jerry in his glee took two or three fancy steps, awkwardly fell over himself a couple of times, got up, and grunted to Tom to go ahead. Jim was the interpreter, and Tom grunted and whined away, in a mighty effort to earn the milk.
“The one-eared bear,” said he, “is my uncle. Used to hear dad and mother talk about him. Dad bit his ear off. That’s how he came to have only one. Dad and he fought about mother, and when dad bit uncle’s ear off mother went with dad and wouldn’t have anything to do with the other fellow. Couldn’t abide a one-eared husband, she said.”
“That’s interesting,” answered Balser. “Where does he live?”