“Madge, what has become of our boat?” Everett inquired, and Madge, for answer, pointed out toward the lake, where Everett saw two boats approaching the shore. A fisherman was rowing a rather rough-looking craft and towing their own. Madge explained how it had happened, and the lad went down to the water’s edge to assist at the landing.
“Thank ye,” said the fisherman, as he tossed the painter of the little craft to Everett. “Strangers from the city, I take it,” he added, as he looked at the youth’s white flannel suit, with a twinkle under his shaggy eyebrows. “What would ye think now, if ye’d lived on Little Bear Lake, as I have, for upward of fifteen year, and not been away from it?”
“Oh, then you must know the story of the Little Bear!” Eva exclaimed eagerly. “We saw a picture of him over at the inn.”
“Know the story? I should say I do! Why, little gal, that bear was a good friend of mine and the Kid’s. If ye’ve time to row over to my shack, I’ll show ye Little Bear’s skin and tell ye the tale about him. I live in that clump of trees on the mainland yonder.”
“We’d love to go,” Madge replied.
“All aboard!” Everett called, and soon the two boats were crossing the lake.
In a grove of pine-trees the rude shack stood. A three-legged stool was in front of the door through which the party entered. There was very little furniture in the one room, only things that were absolutely necessary, and those were homemade, it was plain to see. Over a rustic bed an Indian blanket was thrown. Three-legged stools, a table, and a stove completed the furnishings.
“I cook on a camp-fire mostly,” the fisherman said. “Stoves are too civilized for the like o’ me, but when it’s winter that stove comes into its own. Many a blustery night Little Bear and I would come in chilled to the bone, and we’d make a crackling fire in that rusty old stove, and glad we were to have it, I kin tell ye!”
“Oh!” cried Eva. “Did Little Bear live right here with you? Weren’t you afraid of him? I thought bears were ferocious and ate people up.”
“Well,” said the old fisherman, “I s’pose there are ferocious ones, maybe, but to my thinking there’s no creature more good-natured and kindly-intentioned than a bear. He won’t fight a man unless he sees that the man means to harm him, and the bear’s in the right to fight then, I should say.”