wondered at, seeing that she was only one day old; and when her mother
left her sleeping under a bush for a few minutes, while she went down
through the swamp to get a drink at the brook a couple of hundred feet
away, the little fool woke up and thought herself deserted. She set up
such a bleating as was bound to cause something to happen in that wild
neighborhood."

"Yes!" said the Child, almost in a whisper. "And which came _this_
time--her mother or the bear?"

"Both!" replied Uncle Andy, most unexpectedly.

"Oh!" gasped the Child, opening his mouth till it was as round as his
eyes. And for once he had not a single question ready.

"You see, it was this way," went on Uncle Andy, prudently giving him no
time to think one up. "When the bear heard that noise he knew very
well that the calf was all alone. And, being hungry, he lost no time
in coming to seize the opportunity. What he didn't know was that the
mother was so near. Naturally, he would never think the calf would
make such a fuss if the mother were only down by the brook getting a
drink. So he came along through the bushes at a run, taking no
precautions whatever. And the mother came up from the brook at a run.
And they met in a little open spot, about fifty feet from where the
foolish calf stood, bawling under her bush. She stopped bawling and
stood staring when she saw the bear and her mother meet.

"The bear was a big one, very hungry, and savage at the slightest hint
that his meal, right there in sight, was going to be interfered with.
The mother was a little fawn-colored Jersey cow, with short, sharp