"I was so afraid the little wolf would steal my fish," said Bobby.
"It is well to be able to take care of yourself, isn't it?" asked Father Bear.
"Yes," said Bobby. "If you keep on taking me out with you every day, I shall grow up to be a very strong bear. I can see that."
His father said nothing, but smiled to hear his little boy talk so wisely.
It was almost dark when they got home, but there still was light enough for the two tired bears to see Mother Bear.
She, growing anxious, had thrown a red shawl over her shoulders and was sitting in a rocking chair, outside the cave, watching for the return of the fishermen.
How proud she was to see her boy with such a great fish which was nearly as big as Bobby himself. She threw her arms around him and kissed him. Such a fine boy-bear, he was!
"Mother," grunted Father Bear, "let's have fish for supper. And let it be the fish that Bobby caught. The others we can eat for breakfast."
So Mother Bear busied herself cleaning Bobby's big fish, and in a very little while it was stuffed and baked and supper was ready.
They all enjoyed it—especially the one who had caught it. How much nicer a thing tastes when one has had some trouble in getting it.