"Yes, my friend," said the bear. "I am starved. I saw your
racks of red fresh meat, and knowing your heart is kind, I came
hither. Give me meat to eat, my friend."

Hereupon the mother badger took long strides across the room,
and as she had to pass in front of the strange visitor, she said:
"Ah han! Allow me to pass!" which was an apology.

"How, how!" replied the bear, drawing himself closer to the
wall and crossing his shins together.

Mother badger chose the most tender red meat, and soon over a
bed of coals she broiled the venison.

That day the bear had all he could eat. At nightfall he rose,
and smacking his lips together,--that is the noisy way of saying
"the food was very good!"--he left the badger dwelling. The baby
badgers, peeping through the door-flap after the shaggy bear, saw
him disappear into the woods near by.

Day after day the crackling of twigs in the forest told of
heavy footsteps. Out would come the same black bear. He never
lifted the door-flap, but thrusting it aside entered slowly in.
Always in the same place by the entrance way he sat down with
crossed shins.

His daily visits were so regular that mother badger placed a
fur rug in his place. She did not wish a guest in her dwelling to
sit upon the bare hard ground.