“I was right!” he squeaks. “I told Professor Manning that the parent bear would seek and find its young. They went away together. I had untied the cub to take it down to the creek for a drink, when the outraged mother came along and forcibly freed her baby. She——”
“Bang!”
From th’ inside of th’ cabin comes th’ report of uh heavy shootin’ iron, and Mrs. Perfessor spills out of th’ door, and skates her three hundred pounds off th’ porch. She sets there and claws th’ hair out of her eyes.
“Remarkable performance!” exclaims th’ perfessor. “She never fired a shot before.”
“It—it—it buh—buh—busted,” she stutters, pointin’ at th’ cabin.
“Wimmin ought to let guns alone—also some men,” states Mighty, still prospectin’ fer lead on th’ rear of his personal property.
“Gun,” snorts th’ injured lady. “It wasn’t no gun.”
“What was it, my dear?” asks th’ Perfessor.
“Milk,” she snaps. “Milk for the bear. It just got hot and blew up.”
“My ——,” gasps Magpie. “Ain’t that jist like uh woman. She forgot to punch uh hole in th’ top of th’ can.”