"Well, there has been known to be a few, especially in a hard winter. They come out once in a while to sort of feed-up on our stock, if they haven't eaten enough to sleep 'em through to Spring."
"Would you call this a hard winter?" Amy went on.
"Well, middlin' so," was the slow answer.
"What are you driving at, Amy?" Mollie wanted to know.
"It's a problem in geometry," said Will. "Things that are equal to the same thing are equal to each other. A bear comes out to feed in a hard winter—this is a hard winter, therefore a hungry bear is equal to a hard winter. Eh, Amy?"
"It wasn't that at all!" she declared, blushing. "I only was wondering if they would—would annoy us here."
"I won't let 'em bite you, Amy!" said Will, with a protecting, brotherly air—too brotherly, Grace said it was.
"I guess all the bears you'll get down here you can put in your trunk," laughed the old woodsman. "Well, I must be gettin' back. This is late for me. 'Most nine."
Indeed, they were all tired from the day's travel, and soon the boys had been "shooed" away and the girls let down their hair.
After a hysterical half-hour or so, which always seems to follow when one retires after a day spent in getting to a strange place, the girls were asleep.