The heart of loyal little Ken was filled with pride. It was a great honor, the pupils of Josephine Bayley thought, to be asked to remain in at recess and be talked to by teacher. Sometimes she actually asked their opinions about things, for, strange as it may seem, it was her theory that if the children would rather have red geraniums blossoming on the window-sill, instead of white, red they should be.
“It’s your schoolroom,” she had told her pupils, “and here you spend the heart of every day. I want it to be beautiful in your eyes, and then I know it will be in mine.”
Was there ever another teacher so understanding as their beloved Miss Bayley?
Ken’s intelligent freckled face glowed with eagerness when at last the little line of pupils had filed out to the playground, and he was to hear why Miss Bayley had asked him to stay in at recess.
The young teacher left her desk and stepped down by his side. “Laddie,” she began, “yesterday morning early I climbed the trail that starts back of the inn, and I found a wonderful view of Lake Tahoe, but I found more than that. Guess what?”
She had placed a hand on each of his shoulders, and was looking into the wondering eyes that were so like Dixie’s, though not so dreamy, for Ken was a doer of deeds, as Pine Tree Martin had been.
“Oh, Miss Bayley, teacher, what? A bear, like ’twas. Now and then they do come down from the high Nevadas, but usually not till the snows set in.”
“Gracious, me, no, not that. If I had met a bear, I don’t suppose I should be here to-day to tell about it.”
The girl-teacher looked her consternation at the mere possibility of such a meeting, but the boy shook his head, with its unruly mop of hair that was redder than Dixie’s, as he answered, “Bears don’t touch people unless they’re cornered or come upon sudden-like.”
Then, remembering that the mystery had not been explained, he asked eagerly, “Miss Bayley, what did you see?”