She remembered nothing more and never knew—and indeed was far too sleepy to care—that one of those horrible hunters had passed by the very mouth of her cave without knowing she was there.
But he had found Mr. Bruin, however, a little further on. He also was so dreadfully sleepy that he could not rouse himself, and the hunter could hardly get him even to turn over so that he could get a good shot at him.
But he was able to manage the deed very comfortably, as Bruin showed no signs of waking up; and having killed him, dragged him out with the help of some other hunters, stripped off his nice warm coat, and then had a good meal of bear steak, of which hunters are very fond.
But Brunie never even heard the shots which killed her husband, although they were so close by, and the vibrations made the very leaves and twigs on which she was lying quiver again.
She slept heavily on and on, in her snug home, but about the beginning of February woke up, gave one big yawn, and then bustled about.
For she was a very important bear that day.
The next day she was a more important bear still, for she was a mother bear, and had four pretty little children—very small, only about six or eight inches in length, but finely made little animals, and all healthy and strong.
Very, very pleased and proud Brunie was of them, and very tender and careful.
She had forgotten all about Bruin, her husband, now, her only thought being for her little ones.
She kept them carefully in the nice warm cave until the cold weather had passed, and the little bears knew that all they had to do if they felt chilly was to creep up to their mother, and nestle in among her nice warm fur.