"Wow!" cried Ski's father, mother and sisters and brothers, and they,
too, leaped back.

"Gurr-r-r-r! Gurr-r-r-r!" growled the Plush Bear, and he moved his paws
and head faster than ever. He was not doing this himself, you
understand. He was not making believe come to life. He was only doing as
all the other spring toys do--moving when the wheels within him moved.

"Wow!" cried Ski's father again. "This is magic! This bear is bewitched!
It will bring us bad luck! It must not stay in my igloo!"

"Oh, please let me keep it!" begged Ski, as his father caught up the
Plush Bear.

"No! No! It would be dangerous! It would bring us bad luck! There is a
witch in that bear!" murmured Ski's mother.

"Never have I seen such a thing!" went on Ski's father in awe and
wonder. "We must not keep it! If we allowed it to stay in this igloo we
should freeze, I should never catch any seals, and our blubber fat would
become so hard we could not eat it. I must take this magic bear that
moves back to the big igloo!"

So, though Ski begged his father to be allowed to keep the toy, the
Eskimo man thrust the bear under his fur coat and crawled out of the
igloo into the glow of the Northern Lights.

"I must take it back to the big igloo," murmured Ski's father. "Then
will the bad magic pass away."