and see the water of the stream shimmering in a glow almost as bright
as day. Directly in front of him, running to the water's edge, was a
broad carpet of white sand. Across this sand, half an hour later, came
a huge black bear.

Until Baree had seen the otters at play in the creek, his conceptions
of the forests had not gone beyond his own kind, and such creatures as
owls and rabbits and small feathered things. The otters had not
frightened him, because he still measured things by size, and Nekik was
not half as big as Kazan. But the bear was a monster beside which Kazan
would have stood a mere pygmy. He was big. If nature was taking this
way of introducing Baree to the fact that there were more important
creatures in the forests than dogs and wolves and owls and crayfish,
she was driving the point home with a little more than necessary
emphasis. For Wakayoo, the bear, weighed six hundred pounds if he
weighed an ounce. He was fat and sleek from a month's feasting on fish.
His shiny coat was like black velvet in the moonlight, and he walked
with a curious rolling motion with his head hung low. The horror grew
when he stopped broadside in the carpet of sand not more than ten feet
from the rock under which Baree was shivering.

It was quite evident that Wakayoo had caught scent of him in the air.
Baree could hear him sniff--could hear his breathing--caught the
starlight flashing in his reddish-brown eyes as they swung suspiciously
toward the big boulder. If Baree could have known then that he--his
insignificant little self--was making that monster actually nervous and
uneasy, he would have given a yelp of joy. For Wakayoo, in spite of his
size, was somewhat of a coward when it came to wolves. And Baree
carried the wolf scent. It grew stronger in Wakayoo's nose; and just
then, as if to increase whatever nervousness was growing in him, there