Finally the thought struck Tiny that he might be close to Squirreltown. He quickly ascended to the topmost branch and looked all about him.
Less than two miles away he saw a wonderful sight. It seemed to him that millions of bright stars clustered together over the top of a tall tree in the east. They circled briskly about, sparkling and flashing like diamonds in an immense crown.
“The good owl prophet has told me the truth from first to last,” said Tiny, his heart almost bursting from joy. “I recognize the dear old oak where I was born, although it is a long distance away. Squirreltown stands under that crown of heavenly bodies. Never before have I seen that kind of stars. Those rays are as bright as these anxious eyes of mine. Hurrah for home and mother! How strange it is that all my difficulties have helped me to find the right way home!”
He hastened down to the lowest branch of the tree, but Bruin was still sleeping, with his head against its massive trunk. Tiny, whose mother had taught him the lesson of prudence, did not dare to venture down, lest the big black bear should seize him. So he went back to his resting place, and soon fell asleep.
In the early gray dawn, he awoke and peeped from his cozy shelter. The birds were leaving their green roofs to find food for their families. The daisies in the woods and valleys were beginning to spread their white and crimson-tipped stars. The leaves trembled in the early breezes. Old Bruin was not far from the tree. He had found a hollow stump, and was rooting around it with his long nose.
Soon there was a buzzing sound that swelled into an angry roar. Old Bruin, in trying to steal some honey, had gotten into trouble with the bees. The swarm was very angry. Hundreds of bees poured from the stump and alighted on his head, in his eyes, ears, and nostrils.
CRAZED WITH PAIN THE BEAR DASHED AWAY.
Crazed with pain, the bear dashed away, bellowing at the top of his voice. Tiny, although very kind-hearted and forgiving, could not keep from laughing at the plight of the bear. His cries sounded like the mingled shrieks of many different animals, for the sting of each bee was like the cut of a knife.
Tiny scurried down the tree to find his hunting bag, and what was his delight to find other delicacies that would make his winter store complete.