“Careful!” Joe cautioned.
“What do you mean—Big Ben?” asked Bob’s mother.
“Oh, just our name for a pet bear we’ve acquired,” Bob laughed, ignoring Joe’s caution. “A dear, pretty, tame old silver tip who came right into camp and tried to kiss old Joe, but Joe slapped his face and said, ‘Naughty, naughty,’ and he got real cross.”
“What do you mean? Did a bear come into your camp? Oh, how lovely!” Alice cried.
“Lovely! Well, I must say——” Mrs. Jones began.
“What really happened?” Bob’s father demanded.
“Yes, tell the truth, Bob, now you’ve put your foot in it,” Joe laughed.
“Oh, gosh, I can’t keep an old secret,” said the boy. “Me and Joe—Joe and me——”
“Joe and I——” said his mother.
“Well, Joe and I were snoring away like a couple o’ buzz saws, when snap went a stick, and woke me up, and Joe was sitting up already, and gosh all hemlock, but it was dark! And then the fire flickered, and we saw old Big Ben on his hind legs not two feet away——”