“I have the very thing,” interrupted Mrs. Shagg, as she went to one of the chests that stood near the wall.
“Of course!” exclaimed Shagg. “The ball I made you to use when darning my clothes.”
Out it came and soon, to the amazement of both the big bruins and the great joy of Tumble Curls, Little Black Bear had mounted to the top of it and traveled the full length of the cave. Then, as if to cap the climax, he turned himself topsy-turvy, tossed his heels in the air, and—of all unheard-of things—walked back again on his paws!
“Well, saws and sawhorses—I’d never have believed it!” marveled Shagg.
“Nor I, either!” admired Mrs. Shagg. As for Tumble Curls, she danced and clapped her hands with so much delight that Little Black Bear gladly did his tricks over and over again. Finally he turned a dozen somersaults all in a row, to say nothing of leapfrogging high above four stools that stood near the window.
Now, had Mr. and Mrs. Shagg and Tumble Curls had their way about it, Little Black Bear would have spent the entire afternoon performing for them. But just as he had sprung over the last of the stools, the clock on the mantel suddenly seemed to forget to tick and to tock. Instead it gave forth a warning “burr—r-r-r”, next it uttered a queer “click” and then called out the hour in so positive a tone that Little Black Bear turned about with a start.
“What! That o’clock!” cried he. “Oh, then I must be going at once, else I’ll never reach the menagerie tent by half-past twilight.”
Of course the others protested, but when they understood that their visitor really had to leave them, they immediately offered to accompany him at least part way through the forest.
“It won’t take me a minute to get ready,” assured Mrs. Shagg, as she went to the door at the back of the cave. And soon she came forth with a beautiful cashmere shawl, a lovely green parasol, and a bonnet simply covered with shining jet beads. While she was tying the bonnet strings under her chin, Shagg had opened two of the chests. From one he took a glossy silk hat that was almost as tall as the mantelpiece clock; and from the other a cane with a gorgeous gold knob.
“Family heirlooms,” said he, as he handed the walking stick to Little Black Bear for the latter’s inspection. “Yes, sir; wonderful cane it is, too. The very one that belonged to Great Big Bear. Just look at the initials engraved on the top of it.”