“I know what it means now to have your tongue cleave to the roof of your mouth,” said Belle, who was pale and shaken. “I thought I never would be able to scream.”
The bear resumed his shambling gait and meandered leisurely down to the pile of fish.
“The robber!” groaned Walter. “He’ll clean up the pile. To think I’ve been cooking for that old reprobate!”
“You ought to take it as a compliment,” said Jack. “Just see how the old thief is wading into them.”
The fish were indeed disappearing with magical rapidity.
“He’s a magician,” said Jack. “He’s making mutton of fish.”
“It’s well enough to joke,” murmured Bess. “But what will we do if he eats all the rest of our lunch?”
“We’ll have to grin and bear it,” said Paul, whose disposition to pun could not be overcome.
“Perhaps he’ll be satisfied with the fish and leave the rest of the food alone,” remarked Cora hopefully.
“You’re a cheerful optimist,” replied her brother. “You don’t know much about a bear’s appetite. Besides, he must be awfully hungry, otherwise he would run away—bears usually do.”