away, saying:

"Wait just a minute, sis, till we finish the bear; father will shoot
him."

"No, no, no!" screamed Roxie, her tears dried as if by magic. "Don't
kill the bear, father! Jake, don't you touch the bear; he's my friend,
and we were both so scared last night, and then I prayed that he
wouldn't eat me, and he didn't, and you mustn't hurt him."

"Well, I'm beat now!" remarked Mr. Beamish, as with both hands buried
in the coarse hair by which he had dragged the bear to the surface,
for it had gone under when the ice-cake had been broken against the jam
of logs which had stopped it, he looked up at his little daughter's
pale face.

"You and the bear made friends, and said your prayers together, and he
can't be hurt, you say?"

"Yes, father. Oh, please don't hurt him!"

"We might take him home and keep him chained up for a sort of a pet, if
he will behave decent," suggested Jake, a little doubtfully.

"Well!--I suppose we could," replied the father, very slowly and
reluctantly. "He seems peaceable enough now."

"And see how good he is to me," said Roxie, eagerly, as she patted the
head of her strange new friend, who blinked amicably in reply. "Oh,
Jake, do go and get Rob and the sled, and carry him home, wont you?"