“For it is here that we must leave you,” he explained. “You see, we bears of the forest seldom or never go beyond or even to the edge of it.”
“It has been fine of you to come all this way,” Little Black Bear said gratefully, “and I can’t begin to thank you for the wonderful time I’ve had.”
“La! La!” returned Mrs. Shagg, “all we hope is that you will visit us again some day.”
“You’ll always find a welcome,” rumbled Shagg, as he gave Little Black Bear a hearty thump on one shoulder.
“Oh, do come back,” said Tumble Curls wistfully. “Promise you will.”
“I’ll try,” answered Little Black Bear, as he set his face toward the forest’s edge. And then, amid the cries of farewell, he parted from his three friends.
He had gone but a short way when he felt something rather sharp and rather hard pressing against the crook of his arm. It came from the inside of the lunch bag. Then he remembered. It was the taffy-on-the-stick. Quickly he turned back. Mr. and Mrs. Shagg were just disappearing behind the trunk of a tree. But not so with Tumble Curls; she was still watching after him. Little Black Bear now retraced his steps, fumbling in the paper bag as he went.
“Here,” he said, as he reached Tumble Curls’ side. “Here: maybe you’d like to have it.” And he thrust the taffy-on-the-stick into her hands and then ran away as fast as ever he could. He recalled how he had twice been tempted to eat the sweetmeat but had not; and he was glad.
Soon he reached the point where meadows came to meet the forest; and there, quietly cropping the grass, stood the White-White Horse.
“Did you find your story?” asked a voice, while, as if to accompany the words, the Pretty Lady with the Blue-Blue Eyes danced, smilingly, toward him.