than that of any automobile horn you ever heard, a roar that had menace
behind it, and that came from a large brown bear which had risen on its
hind legs and was advancing into the road with both front paws extended
wide, as though with the intent of embracing both Whitey and Monty.

[Illustration: ADVANCING INTO THE ROAD WITH BOTH FRONT PAWS EXTENDED]

Monty did not wait for any guiding rein to turn him. He wheeled on a
space about as big as a cigar-box, and hit the trail for home, and for
some time he and Whitey gave a fair imitation of a runaway train on a
down grade. All Whitey could do was to lie low on Monty's neck, digging
his moccasins into Monty's ribs, for fear he would change his
mind--which he didn't.

And neither Whitey nor Monty knew that that roar came from a mother
bear, and that back of the bear was a small cub, with a round, funny
little stomach, industriously combing the bushes for berries, and
regarding life as one round of pleasure. There was no need for them to
know that. Whitey had had experiences with bears, as you may remember.
If wireless had been invented, he might possibly have been willing to
use it as a means of introduction, but in no way he could think of at
the moment was he willing to meet a bear on its native heath.

That settled it. No school that day. Couldn't expect a fellow to go to
school when he had to run into bears on the trail. What was an old bear
doing near the ranch, anyhow? Didn't seem right. When Monty had toned
down his headlong trip away from that bear, or thought he was at a safe
distance, Whitey found himself near the river, and idly turned Monty
toward its banks. Might as well take a little ride. Fellow didn't learn
much at that school, anyway. And so, after the ways of boys and men,