“Yes, little girl. I’ve had ’em ever since they were little bits of cubs. Some one shot the old bear and I found these two, like puppies, whimpering on their dead mother. I brought them to my camp, raised them on a bottle until they were old enough to eat, and I’ve kept ’em ever since. This evening they got away, as they often do, and wandered off, so I had to take after ’em.”
“Are you camping around here?” asked Mr. Martin.
“Yes, in a way,” was the answer. “I’m not camping for fun, as you folks are. It’s business with me. I’m manager of a lumber camp over in the woods.”
“Oh, yours is the camp we have been looking for!” exclaimed Mrs. Martin.
“You’ve been looking for me?” echoed the man, who gave his name as Pat Teeter.
“We met some lumbermen on a raft going down the river,” explained Mr. Martin, telling about the dog who bit the auto tire. “They said you might let us inspect your camp.”
“Sure, I will. We’ll be glad to have you visit us!” declared Mr. Teeter. “There aren’t many men in camp now, and they’ll be glad of company. We’re over in the woods about three miles from here.”
“I’m afraid that’s rather too far to go to-night,” objected Mrs. Martin. “And we have things all ready here.”
“Then come over the first thing in the morning,” urged Mr. Teeter. “I’ll go back now, with my runaway bears. We’ll expect you in the morning.”
“Will your bears do tricks?” asked Ted, as the shaggy creatures on the ends of the chains prepared to follow their keeper.