I
THE THREE BEARS OF PORCUPINE RIDGE
“WOOF, woof, woof,” called the little black mother bear gruffly, turning over a rotten log with her snout and uncovering a fine ant’s nest.
“Woof, woof,” answered back the two round black balls of animated fur—the cubs, as they scrambled eagerly and clumsily over the log, and began to feed greedily upon their mother’s find.
The little black mother bear and her two cubs lived in a cozy den just below Porcupine Ridge, which happened to be far up on the side of Cushman Mountain. They were a happy little family, the three bears, and every day the two cubs grew more ball-like and lovable to their patient mother, who always managed to lead them to the very best feeding places. Through the dense, dark spruce forests, far down into the swamps below she took them, where they fed happily upon young frogs or crawfish, and the juicy sprouts of the skunk cabbages. Occasionally she would show them the way across the burnt swale, where the wild raspberries grew luscious and red.