Monarch, the Big Bear of Tallac by Ernest Thompson Seton
page 70 of 73 (95%)
page 70 of 73 (95%)
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"You are mad," said the keepers, and they would not open the cage. But
Kellyan persisted till they put in a cross-grating in front of the Bear. Then, with this between, he approached. His hand was on the shaggy head, but Monarch lay as before. The hunter stroked his victim and spoke to him. His hand went to the big round ears, small above the head. They were rough to his touch. He looked again, then started. What! is it true? Yes, the stranger's tale was true, for both ears were pierced with a round hole--one torn large--and Kellyan knew that once again he had met his little Jack. "Why, Jacky, I didn't know it was you. I never would have done it if I had known it was you. Jacky, old pard, don't you know me?" But Jack stirred not, and Kellyan got up quickly. Back to the hotel he flew; there he put on his hunter's suit, smoky and smelling of pine gum and grease, and returned with a mass of honeycomb to reenter the cage. "Jacky, Jacky!" he cried, "honey, honey!" and he held the tempting comb before him. But Monarch lay as one dead now. "Jacky, Jacky! don't you know me?" He dropped the honey and laid his hands on the great muzzle. The voice was forgotten. The old-time invitation, "Honey, Jacky--honey," had lost its power, but the _smell_ of the honey, the coat, the hands that he had fondled, had together a hidden potency. There is a time when the dying of our race forget their life, but |
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