City, two-legged animals less intelligent than himself frequently
and violently prodded the little grizzly with a long pole "to see
him fight." Barely in time to save him from insanity, little
Cyclone was rescued by the friendly hands of the Zoological
Society's field agent, placed in a comfortable box, freed from all
annoyance, and shipped to New York.

He was at that time as droll and roguish-looking a grizzly cub as
ever stepped. In a grizzly-gray full moon of fluffy hair, two big
black eyes sparkled like jet beads, behind a pudgy little nose,
absurdly short for a bear. Excepting for his high shoulders, he was
little more than a big bale of gray fur set up on four posts of the
same material. But his claws were formidable, and he had the true
grizzly spirit.

The Bears' Nursery at the New York Zoological Park is a big yard
with a shade tree, a tree to climb, a swimming pool, three sleeping
dens, and a rock cliff. It never contains fewer than six cubs, and
sometimes eight.

Naturally, it is a good test of courage and temper to turn a new
bear into that roystering crowd. Usually a newcomer is badly scared
during his first day in the Nursery, and very timid during the
next. But grizzlies are different. They are born full of courage
and devoid of all sense of fear.

When little Cyclone's travelling box was opened, and he found
himself free in the Nursery, he stalked deliberately to the centre
of the stage, halted, and calmly looked about him. His air and
manner said as plainly as English: "I'm a grizzly from Alaska, and