“The man taught him to beat the drum.”
“It took him,” said Bruin. “He was taken when he was a little fellow, only a few months old. The man who caught him made a pet of him at first; taught him to dance, and shake paws, and beat the drum. He was a drummer in the army,—the man, I mean. He was very kind, and my cousin grew extremely fond of him.”
“What was your cousin’s name?” asked Toto.
“They called him ‘Grimshaw;’” said Bruin. “His master’s name was Shaw, and he was grim, you know, when he didn’t like people, and so they called him ‘Grimshaw.’ He mostly didn’t like people,” added the bear reflectively. “He certainly didn’t like the showman.”
“Then Shaw was not the showman?” said Toto.
“Oh, dear, no!” said Bruin. “A war broke out, and Shaw’s regiment was ordered off, and he couldn’t take Grimshaw with him. He was very big then, and the other soldiers didn’t like him. He had a way of going into the different tents and taking anything he happened to fancy for supper; and if any one said anything to him, he boxed that one’s ears. They always tumbled down when he boxed their ears, and they made a great fuss about it, and so finally his master was obliged to sell him to the showman. His name was Jinks.
“He taught my cousin several new tricks, and took him all over the country, exhibiting him in the different towns and villages. You see,” said Bruin apologetically, “he—I mean Grimshaw—didn’t know any better. He was so young when he was taken that he didn’t remember much about his family, and didn’t know what an undignified sort of thing it was to be going about in that way. One day, however, Jinks undertook to make him waltz with a piece of meat on his nose, without attempting to eat it. Grimshaw would not do that, because he didn’t think it was reasonable; and I don’t think it was. So then Jinks attempted to beat him, and Grimshaw boxed his ears, and he tumbled down and didn’t get up again. Grimshaw waited a few minutes, and finding that he did not seem inclined to move, he ran away and took to the woods.”
“But why did not the showman get up?” inquired the grandmother innocently.
“I think it highly probable that he was dead, madam,” replied Bruin. “But I cannot say positively, as I was not there.
“After this Grimshaw lived alone for some time, wandering about from one forest to another. One day, as he was roaming up and down, he came suddenly upon a party of soldiers, three or four in number, sitting round a fire, and cooking their dinner. The moment they saw the bear, they dropped everything, and ran for their lives, leaving the good chops to burn, which was a sin. It was a good thing for Grimshaw, however, as he was very hungry; so he sat down by the fire and made a hearty meal. After he had dined comfortably, he began to look about him, and spied a big drum, which the soldiers had left behind in their flight. Seizing the drumsticks, he began to beat a lively tattoo. In a few moments he heard a rustling among the bushes, and saw a man’s head thrust cautiously out. What was his delight to recognize his old master, Sergeant Shaw! He threw down the drumsticks and uttered a peculiar howl. It was answered by a shrill whistle, and in another moment Shaw and Grimshaw were in each other’s arms. When the other soldiers ventured to return, they found the two gravely dancing a hornpipe, with great mutual satisfaction.”