Immediately, the cub gulped and started sucking at the impromptu feeding bottle.
Mike watched the milk diminish and when the bottle was half empty he took it away and opened the other little cub's mouth for its food. The first one, being comfortably fed, rolled over and went on sleeping.
The second cub was the smaller of the two and could not drink the milk as rapidly as the sturdier one. Several times it choked and had to cough and sneeze, which made the children laugh delightedly, but Mike waited patiently until it had recovered breath.
"Mike, won't they wake up and play?" asked Dot.
"Him wake up, tree-four-five day!" replied Mike.
"Not before?" asked Don.
"Not before him eye open—'bout five day!" returned Mike.
Mike made a bed of balsam tips covered with an old buck-skin shirt.
The cubs were deposited upon the new bed and curled up close together, never missing their old home or realizing that they had a foster-mother. Mike fed them regularly, and the children found them a never-ending source of delight.