The Arkansaw Bear Part 14

Horatio swung the violin to his shoulder and drew the bow across the strings. Then he sang softly:--

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]

"Oh, there's some folks say a n.i.g.g.e.r won't steal, But I caught one in my corn-fiel'.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]

And there's other folks say that a Bear will tame, But I wouldn't trust him with my----"

he hesitated, and then, with a final flourish,

"with my money all the same."

The little boy laughed. The Bear seemed to have forgotten the cruel Italian and was in his usual good humor.

"I think I can trust you, Horatio; I'm not a bit afraid of you."

"Bo," said Ratio, speaking suddenly, "speaking of Christmas trees, we ought to have one. I saw a beautiful one up the stream yonder. I think I'll go and get it, if you'll look after the supper while I'm gone."

"Why, yes, Horatio, only don't be long about it."

Horatio struck the violin with a long vigorous sweep.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]

"Oh, we'll have a tree for Christmas in this Louisiana isthmus, Where the orange trees are waving and the jasmines are in bloom;

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music]

And I'll have a Christmas dinner, if I don't I am a sinner, And I'll eat it if it sends me to my doom--doom--doom."

Bo laughed again. He had never seen Horatio in a better humor.

"If you eat too much pie it may send you to your doom--doom--doom," he said. "Hurry back, now, with that tree. You can pull it up by the roots and we'll plant it again here. Then it will keep right on growing."

The bear set out up the stream and the boy busied himself with building a fire and taking out of a sack a lot of food that had been given them by the planters during the afternoon. He spread this on the leaves and moss and then sat down and gazed into the bright blaze. It was pleasant and warm and he was quite tired. After a while he wondered sleepily why the Bear didn't come back, and concluded he was having a hard time pulling up the tree. Then he began thinking of all the adventures they had had together and of the little cub bear and the cruel Italian.

"I was tempted to let Horatio at him," he thought. "A man like that should be beaten until he couldn't stand. That poor little creature! How wistfully he looked at us. He kept whining--perhaps he was telling Ratio something."

The little boy's head nodded forward now and then and presently he slept. He slept soundly and the moments flew by unheeded. He was having a long dream about old man Todd and the girls and the two candy hearts, when suddenly there arose close at hand such a commotion, such a mingling of excited language, fierce snarls and cras.h.i.+ng of brush that the little boy leaped to his feet wildly.

"Ratio!" he shouted. "Ratio! where are you?"

The only answer was the redoubled fury of the furious uproar, which Bo now located at the edge of the road but a few feet away. He tore through the brush hastily in that direction. As he reached the spot the turmoil ceased and he heard the sound of running feet. Das.h.i.+ng through into the road he beheld a strange sight. A half-naked man was disappearing over the hill just beyond, and Horatio, holding some rags of clothing in one hand and the paw of the little bear in the other, was looking after him hungrily, as if about to pursue. Before him lay the Christmas tree badly broken and bruised.

"Ratio!" exclaimed Bo. "What have you been doing?"

The Bear looked at Bo sheepishly.

"I went for the Christmas tree," he said, meekly, "and just as I was coming back the Italian man came along, and he was beating this little chap, and so I tried the Christmas tree on him to see how he liked it.

Then we got into an argument, and when he went away he left the cub with us and didn't take all of his clothing."

The little boy reflected a moment.

"I hope, Horatio," he said, gravely, "you did not mean to break your agreement about, you know--about dinners."

"I didn't, Bo; honest, I didn't. I wouldn't touch that fellow if I was starving. But I did pretty nearly break his neck, Bo, and I'm glad of it!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: GOING BACK TO ARKANSAW.]

"Ratio," said Bo, solemnly, "it's very wrong, I suppose; very wrong, indeed; but I'm glad, too. Only we've got to postpone that Christmas dinner. That fellow will be back here to-night with officers, and we've had all the law we want. We start for Arkansaw in five minutes. A bite of supper and then right about! ready! march!"

And this was the reason Horatio and Bosephus and the little cub bear were travelling swiftly northward in spite of the winter weather that was not yet over. The cub was small and weak and Horatio, who loved him and sometimes called him "little brother," often carried him. They gave no performances, but only pushed forward, mile after mile, chanting solemnly:--

"Going back to Arkansaw as fast as we can go-- Never mind the winter time and never mind the snow, For the weather's not so chilly as the Louisiana law, And we'll feel a good deal safer in the Ar--kan--saw."

[Ill.u.s.tration: HORATIO WAS LOOKING AT HIM HUNGRILY.]

CHAPTER XII

THE BEAR COLONY AT LAST. THE PARTING OF BOSEPHUS AND HORATIO

"Oh, the wind blows fair and the snow is gone In the Arkansaw when the spring comes on.

Oh, the sun s.h.i.+nes warm and the wind blows fair, For the boy and the cub and the Old--Black--Bear."

SO sang Bosephus and Horatio as they sat side by side in the doorway of a deserted lumberman's cabin in the depths of an Arkansaw forest. The cub rescued from the brutal Italian and brought with them on their hasty journey out of Louisiana, stood a few feet away watching them intently.

Now and then he made an awkward attempt at dancing, which caused Bosephus and Horatio to stop their music and laugh. He had grown fat and saucy with good treatment, and seemed to enjoy the amus.e.m.e.nt he caused.

At a little distance behind him, some seated and some standing, and all enjoying the entertainment, were seven other bears of various sizes. The colony so long planned by Horatio and Bosephus was established.

The long journey out of Louisiana had been made rapidly and with no delays. Though midwinter when begun, the weather had been beautiful at the start, and there had been few storms and but little cold since. The cub had gradually confided his story to Horatio, who loved him and continued to call him affectionately "little brother." He had been captured in a very deep woods, he said, by hunters, who sold him to the Italian. He did not know where these woods were, but as the friends crossed the Louisiana line and entered lower Arkansaw he grew more and more excited every day, for he declared these were so like his native woods that he could almost hear his mother's voice crooning the evening lullaby. Soon after, they came one evening upon a deserted lumberman's camp and took possession of the one cabin that still remained. It was a good shelter and there was a stream with fine fish in it close at hand.

But when the friends awoke next morning the little bear was gone.

They were very sorry, for they had grown much attached to the little chap and he had seemed to be fond of them also. It was very lonely in the deep forest without him. Horatio sighed.

"He didn't appreciate us, Bo," he said, sadly. "He's gone back to be a wild bear. He never got the taste of men--tastes, I mean, and I suppose these woods made him homesick. They are like my old woods, too, and I get homesick sometimes--even now." Then the boy and the Bear went to the brook to fish and the day pa.s.sed gloomily.

But that night, when Bo had built a fire in the big fireplace which almost filled one end of the cabin, and was cooking the fish, there came a m.u.f.fled scratching sound at the door. Horatio sprang to his feet instantly.

"That's Cub," he said, excitedly.

The boy ran to the door and opened it. Sure enough, the little cub stood before him, and out of the darkness behind gleamed seven other pairs of eyes. The boy was brave, but as he saw that row of fiery orbs he felt his flesh creep and his hair began to p.r.i.c.kle.

"Horatio!" he called, softly, "come quick."