At last one time when the bear returned, his nose was bright
and black. His coat was glossy. He had grown fat upon the
badger's hospitality.

As he entered the dwelling a pair of wicked gleams shot out of
his shaggy head. Surprised by the strange behavior of the guest
who remained standing upon the rug, leaning his round back against
the wall, father badger queried: "How, my friend! What?"

The bear took one stride forward and shook his paw in the
badger's face. He said: "I am strong, very strong!"

"Yes, yes, so you are," replied the badger. From the farther
end of the room mother badger muttered over her bead work: "Yes,
you grew strong from our well-filled bowls."

The bear smiled, showing a row of large sharp teeth.

"I have no dwelling. I have no bags of dried meat. I have no
arrows. All these I have found here on this spot," said he,
stamping his heavy foot. "I want them! See! I am strong!"
repeated he, lifting both his terrible paws.

Quietly the father badger spoke: "I fed you. I called you
friend, though you came here a stranger and a beggar. For the
sake of my little ones leave us in peace."

Mother badger, in her excited way, had pierced hard through
the buckskin and stuck her fingers repeatedly with her sharp awl
until she had laid aside her work. Now, while her husband was