Chapter II: Part 2

But he was hardly aware of this change. He still thought of himself as a little bear, but had Loup the Lynx seen him now it is doubtful if he would have been so free to attack him. Loup had a wholesome respect for a full grown bear. It was only the young cubs that he liked to tackle and eat.

But if Buster wasn’t aware of his growing size and strength his two captors were. That was why they kept him chained up at night and always carried a long pointed pole when they took him out on the street. They were afraid that some day Buster would realize his strength, and then all would be up with their control of him.

The day came, however, when Buster suddenly found that his muscles were powerful and his strength greater than that of his masters. They had been traveling all day from one small town to another, gathering in a few pennies here and there, and resting by the way-side whenever opportunity offered. It was a hot day, and the road was dusty and rough.

When they came to a small brook the sight of the cool, sweet water brought to Buster’s mind pictures of the broad river that ran in front of the cave where he was born. A great desire to plunge in the stream and wallow in the cool water seized him. With this idea in mind he quickened his pace, and started down the embankment.

A sudden jerk of the chain around his neck brought him to his senses, but with an angry toss of the head he continued on, dragging the man behind him. In vain the man tugged at the chain, shouting to his companion, who came up and began prodding Buster with the sharp end of the long pole.

But Buster wanted to get in the brook. Nothing in all his life had ever appealed so much to him. The dust and dirt in his mouth, ears and nose irritated him. Instead of stopping he slapped at the pole and continued on his way.

Then something happened that aroused him to fury. The man gave him such a vicious jab with the sharpened pole that it made him grunt and squeal. Heretofore such cruel treatment had always cowered Buster, but it had an opposite effect on him now. It aroused his fury.

With a quick, lightening-like stroke he grasped the pole in his two paws, and before either of his captors could recover from their surprise he snapped it in two. It was all done so quickly that even Buster was surprised.

Seeing the instrument of his torture lying broken on the ground, Buster smiled, and leered at the men. Something in their eyes attracted his attention. It was fear! Buster read it as clearly as if it had been printed there in large letters.

His captors were afraid of him! They had lost their pointed pole, and thus disarmed they were no longer able to torment. Buster was the master of the situation. A great feeling of exultation swelled up in him. His eyes gleamed and flashed.

Then with a roar he turned on the one holding the chain and struck savagely at him. What happened filled Buster with glee. The man dropped the chain and fled with cries of fright. Buster pursued a few yards, and then sat down on his haunches and laughed.

“Ho! Ho! They’re afraid of me!” he said. “I won’t have to be their slave any more! All I’ve got to do is to growl at them, and strike them!”

He got up and strutted around. He was a free bear once more. Never more would he be a captive. He waddled down to the brook and plunged into the cool water. He washed and drank and gurgled to his heart’s content. Once or twice his captors approached, and tried to coax him out, but he turned on them with a snarl and made them run away again.

Then they disappeared entirely, and Buster was left alone to enjoy his bath. But his freedom wasn’t to last for long, although he didn’t know it at the time.

Now as it happened there was a circus in the town a few miles back, and his two masters who cared more about the money value of Buster than anything else, decided that it was a good chance to make a bargain. They knew that they would never be able to control their half-grown bear once he had discovered his strength and power. He was henceforth useless for their work.

But a circus was different. Buster would be valuable in the circus either as a trick animal or as a dangerous man-eating creature that had to be kept caged all the time. People would pay money to view a bear that no man could tame. Of course, Buster was no such wild animal, and he had no intention of killing any one, but the fact that he had broken away from captivity and refused to be captured again furnished the foundation for a story that he was a wild, desperate animal that could not be tamed.

Buster was lying on the grass near the brook, enjoying a quiet snooze, when he was startled by the appearance of half a dozen men armed with sticks and pitchforks. He raised his head and looked mildly at them. Behind walked the two men who had cruelly tormented him.

“There he is!” shouted one. “Look out for him, or he’ll jump on you!”

Buster growled when he heard that familiar voice, and rose on his two hind legs to face the approaching crowd. Some of them stopped and refused to go any further; but two or three approached warily. They were armed with clubs and pitchforks, but one of them carried a long rope looped over an arm. Buster didn’t know what this was for, and he turned his attention to the men with the clubs.

He growled and stepped toward them. They retreated a few steps--all except the man with the rope. He seemed cool and unafraid. Buster eyed him curiously when he raised an arm and twirled the rope over his head. He even watched the rope circle in the air and come toward him.

It was not until the rope looped over his head and settled on his shoulders that he understood; but it was too late then. The man jerked it, and Buster felt something around his neck that choked him almost to death. He tore at it with his paws, but before he could rip it off another from behind caught him.

Buster fought fiercely for a few moments, but when the men armed with pointed sticks and clubs ran in and began prodding him sharply every time he tore at the rope he began to grow afraid again. He was no match for all these men, especially when his neck was being squeezed so that he could barely draw a decent breath.

When he quieted down, the men stopped prodding him, and Buster soon found that it didn’t pay to fight against such heavy odds. Only when his former captors came near him did he growl and show signs of anger.

Buster was led back a few miles and placed in a cage with iron bars. There was plenty of food and water in the cage, and he was glad to get inside with the ropes off his neck. Buster had joined the circus!

But would his new life be happier than the old? Had he jumped from the frying-pan into the fire, or were there days ahead when he could enjoy life once more without the fear of being beaten for every little mistake? He didn’t know, but he slept soundly and peacefully that night even if he was a prisoner in an iron cage.

What happened to him in the circus will form part of the next story, called Buster’s First Public Appearance.

STORY VIII

BUSTER’S FIRST PUBLIC APPEARANCE

The cage in which Buster was kept was rather small, but it was clean and fresh, with plenty of straw on the bottom, and a blanket stretched on one side to shield him from the draft. There were other cages in the place, and after the first night he began to get acquainted with their occupants.

On his right there was an old Lion, who had lost most of his teeth and much of his hair. He snored so loudly the first night that Buster was twice awakened by what he thought was the roll of thunder. When morning dawned he asked the Old Lion if he always snored like that.

“Yes, when I’m asleep, but when I’m awake I snore like this.”

To Buster’s surprise he opened his mouth and let out a roar that shook the whole place and started every animal crying and snarling. Spot the Leopard, who was caged on Buster’s left, growled and spit ferociously as he sprang from one side of his cage to the other. But the Old Lion sat back on his haunches and roared with laughter.

“What did you do that for?” asked Buster, when the wild commotion began to subside.

“Just to show you how I snore in the day time,” was the retort. “You want to hear it again?”

“No, thank you, once is enough.”

“Well, if you say so, I won’t,” replied the Old Lion. “But after you’ve been here a long time you’ll be glad to hear me roar. It breaks up the monotony. There’s nothing else to do, you know, and it gets dreadfully tiresome doing nothing. Heigh-o! it’s a dull life!”

He yawned and stretched himself. Spot the Leopard on the other side stopped his snarling, and glanced between his bars at Buster. He was interested in this new-comer, and he continued to stare so long that Buster finally smiled back at him and nodded his head.

“How did they catch you?” Spot asked suddenly.

“With a rope,” replied Buster. “I wasn’t expecting it, and they dropped it over my head before I could run.”

Spot spit and snarled again to show his temper. “They caught me when I was a cub,” he said. “They wouldn’t have caught me if I was full grown. They’re afraid of me now. Every time my trainer comes in I snarl and snap at her. She snaps the whip in my face, and I pretend to be afraid of it. But I’m not! I’m just waiting my chance. Some day I’ll pounce on her, and then--”

He swished his long tail and licked his lips, while his eyes glowed balefully.

“What sort of a trainer have you?” asked Buster. “Is she good to you?”

“There she comes now,” whispered Spot. “You can see for yourself.”

Buster turned and saw a young woman, dressed in a dazzling, sparkling costume of many colors, with a small cap surmounting her golden hair, and a thick, rawhide whip in her hand. There was a fearless look in the dark eyes, and when she strode up to Buster’s cage she surveyed him quite calmly. Buster returned her stare, and blinked two or three times.

“He doesn’t look so ugly,” the woman said finally, addressing one of the attendants. “If I know anything about bears, I should say he was naturally good-humored. But of course you can’t tell. His temper may have been ruined by some one. His name is Buster, you say?”

She walked up to the cage and stuck a hand between the bars and patted the shaggy head. “Well, Buster, we’re either going to be friends or enemies,” she added. “Which is it?”

Buster couldn’t reply right away, so surprised was he, but unconsciously he stuck out his tongue and licked the hand. How soft and velvety it felt! Instead of drawing the hand away, she permitted him to lick it again. Then she smiled.

“You can see,” she said, speaking to the attendant, “he’s answered my question. We’re going to be friends. Now open the door for me. I’m going inside.”

Once more Buster was surprised, but not nearly so much as the attendant. “Don’t do it, Chiquita,” he said in alarm. “He’s not to be trusted. He’s a vicious brute.”

Chiquita smiled and put on her gloves.

“Do I need your advice, Billy,” she said, “when it comes to training animals? Now please open the door.”

“But, Chiquita, you will wait until I summon the attendants to protect you if he attacks you.”

“No, I’m going in now.”

She opened the door herself and stepped in the cage. Buster watched her with eyes of admiration and surprise. He had no fear of her. This dainty little creature could not hurt him. Indeed, she looked so slight and helpless that he felt more like protecting her than hurting her.

She came up to him and rubbed his nose. He grunted with pleasure. Then she patted his head and talked to him in a low, sweet voice. Then she asked him to get down, and when he obeyed she sat on him. She touseled his head, opened his mouth and stuck a hand in it, and finally patted him again, and said:

“He’s all right, Billy, as harmless as a kitten. We’ll put him in the circus tonight in place of poor old Bowser.”

Billy, the attendant, wasn’t convinced of the wisdom of this course, and shook his head, but Chiquita laughed and walked out of the cage.

Buster didn’t know just what they meant, for he had never been in a circus before, but that evening he learned.

He was wheeled into a brilliantly lighted place and stopped alongside of a big circular cage containing nearly a dozen other animals. There was the Old Lion, Spot the Leopard, Boar the Hound, Timber the Wolf, Ocelot the Jungle Cat, and several others which he did not instantly recognize.

His coming started up a commotion among the animals, for just like people they were curious and inquisitive. They eyed him furtively and sniffed at him. But without noticing them he waddled across the big cage and took a vacant place near the Old Lion.

Then something happened that dazzled him. The curtain around the big circular cage disappeared, and a sea of human faces were visible on every side. The lights went up, and the whole place seemed like a wonderful picture.

The next moment Chiquita entered the cage, holding her whip in one hand and a flag in the other. She gave a few sharp orders and the animals began to pose, dance and run around. It was all new to Buster and a little confusing, but he tried to follow and imitate the others. Apparently this pleased Chiquita, for she patted him once, and whispered in his ear:

“Well done, Buster! You’re doing splendidly!”

Buster noticed that Spot the Leopard was often surly and ugly, refusing to obey until Chiquita hit him with the whip. This made him mind, but it didn’t improve his temper any. His surliness made the others nervous, and once they got all snarled up and confused.

“You, Spot,” cried Chiquita, “I’ll punish you if you don’t behave. Now take that!”

She gave him a sharp rap over the nose with her whip. It stung and enraged Spot, who cowered back a moment, and then crouched for a leap. Chiquita saw what was coming, but she didn’t flinch. She snapped the whip in his face again, but this time the trick didn’t work.

Spot flung himself through the air in a mighty leap, uttering a low savage growl, which excited the other animals so they set up a wild roar. Attendants ran to the cage with long irons and sticks in their hands, but Chiquita was penned against the iron bars, vainly trying to hold Spot off at arms’ length. There was a great shout outside, and everybody stood up, with fear and horror in their eyes.

In the midst of the confusion, Buster suddenly came to life. He had taken no part in the commotion, but when he saw Spot attacking Chiquita, whose white face and appealing eyes were turned toward him, his anger flared up. He would not stand by idly while the Leopard tore and scratched the white flesh of his friend.

With a low growl, Buster started across the cage, baring his teeth in an ugly grin, and holding aloft a paw ready to strike. The other animals stood aside to let him pass, but Spot was snapping and snarling at Chiquita so that he did not see him.

How Buster saved Chiquita from Spot the Leopard, and won her undying friendship, will be told in the next story.

STORY IX

BUSTER SAVES CHIQUITA

Spot the Leopard had attacked Chiquita so suddenly that she had little chance of defending herself, and the other animals, excited by the commotion, were ready to join in the attack against their fair trainer.

Buster had not been in the circus long enough to learn the ways of the other animals. Chiquita had been kind to him, and after the cruel treatment from his former masters it seemed as if the dainty young trainer was more than a friend to him. He recalled Spot’s threat to pounce upon Chiquita some day and punish her.

Buster resolved, as he crossed the cage in a few long strides, to protect Chiquita, and if necessary to fight Spot the Leopard. He was angry with Spot, but not so much as to inflict serious injury on him. It was only when he got close and saw the deep scratch on Chiquita’s arm where the Leopard’s claws had laid the flesh open, that his anger flared up to white heat.

With a deeper growl than before, he raised his right paw and delivered a telling blow on Spot’s body. It was not intended as a knock-out blow, but Buster had grown to powerful proportions, and his most playful cuff was enough to do considerable damage.

It landed with a deep thud on Spot’s side, and the Leopard was hurled to the other side of the cage with a bang. He struck the iron bars, and for a moment seemed too stunned or surprised to utter a sound. Buster calmly stood in front of Chiquita and glared defiantly at his enemy.

Spot recovered his senses after a while and let out a growl and screech that made every one in the circus shudder. He crouched down low, swishing his tail, and glaring at Buster. It was a moment of intense suspense.

To make matters worse the other animals kept up their uproar. The fight had stirred their blood, and they began crouching and stalking about the cage as if anxious to get in the fray. Ocelot the Jungle Cat in particular showed great excitement. He began creeping upon Buster from behind, and Timber the Wolf sneaked in closer to get a chance.

Buster through the corner of his eyes noticed the restless, threatening motions of the two. Boar the Hound ran around, barking vigorously, but made no attempt to take any part in the fight. The Old Lion, who was too sleepy and indolent even to roar, sat apart as if he was to be the judge of the contest.

Chiquita, who was slightly wounded, cowered back of her defender, unable to get her whip or to make her voice heard. A thousand spectators outside watched with horrified eyes the combat. Attendants were running around with long poles and irons to prod the animals back to their corners, but they were so excited they did little good.

Suddenly Spot the Leopard took advantage of a moment when Buster was watching Ocelot the Jungle Cat. He sprang at his enemy like an arrow from a bow. At the same instant Ocelot closed in, and Timber the Wolf watched for his opportunity.

But Buster hadn’t been taken off his guard. He had kept one eye on Spot, and when he shot through the air that powerful right paw of his was raised again. It caught Spot in mid-air. It was no gentle blow this time. It was delivered with all the force that lay behind those powerful shoulder muscles.

It landed on Spot’s body with such a thud that it could be heard in every corner of the great circus. The Leopard was hurled back against the iron bars with such force that it seemed for a moment as if they would give way. Spot grunted, and dropped to the floor in such a dazed state of mind that he couldn’t think or act.

Buster having delivered this knock-out blow turned swiftly to Ocelot, whose claws had sunk into his shaggy leg. The huge paw came down on Ocelot’s head and nearly crushed the skull. He dropped his hold and lay down as if suddenly struck by lightning.

Buster, smarting with the pain in his leg, growled in rage, and turned to Timber the Wolf. Now Timber was naturally a coward. The punishment meted out to Spot and Ocelot immediately caused him to change his mind. He ran around the cage as Buster started in pursuit.

A temper, once it gets beyond control, is a terrible thing to have. It may lead into all sorts of trouble. Buster by this time had lost his completely. He was so enraged that he wanted to kill everything in the cage. His eyes grew blood-shot and terrible to look at.

He lunged at Timber, and missed him, but the Old Lion happened to be in the way. Buster gave him a side cuff that made him roar with pain. It was a glancing blow. If Old Lion hadn’t been so old that most of his teeth were gone he would have struck back, and Buster would have been in a peck of trouble. He didn’t know much about lions in those days.

The next animal that got in his way was Boar the Hound, which he sent whimpering across the cage. Then he came to Spot, who was just recovering his senses, and with an angry snarl hit him again and stood before him like a cat over a mouse as if defying him to run or strike back.

Round and round the cage Buster pursued the animals, striking right and left, and tumbling them all in a heap whenever he got within striking distance. Ocelot climbed to the top of the iron bars and crouched there in shivering terror.

Timber the Wolf leaped and jumped over the backs of the others, and thus escaped serious injury. It was a mix-up that threatened to end in a terrible tragedy. Buster was master of the situation, and so enraged that he continually saw red. The pandemonium outside, and the quickly thrusting sticks and irons of the attendants, had no effect on his temper. He ignored the noise, and merely snapped and snarled at the sharp irons every time they got in his way.

Then Chiquita, who had been cowering in her corner in fright, suddenly regained control of her nerves. She picked up her whip, but did not use it. Instead she walked calmly up to the enraged bear, and said sharply:

“Buster! Buster!”

Buster stopped short as if pricked by a needle. When his name was repeated in that soft voice, he closed his dripping jaws and ceased growling.

“Buster, come here!” added Chiquita.

It was a soft, soothing command, and it fell on Buster’s excited nerves like cooling balm. He looked at Chiquita, and then without so much as a grunt waddled toward her.

What followed made every one in the vast audience gasp. Chiquita, ignoring her danger, suddenly put her two arms around Buster’s neck, and actually wept on his shaggy breast.

“Buster, you saved my life,” she said gently. “Spot would surely have killed me if you hadn’t come to my help. You dear old Buster!”

Buster’s emotions cannot be described. All his rage suddenly vanished. He put a paw on Chiquita’s shoulders, and then fearful of hurting her, dropped it to his side.

She raised her head from his breast, and added: “Now come with me. Take me outside.”

And leading Buster she walked across the cage, opened the door and stepped out. Buster meekly followed. Outside she led him by a paw across the arena, and faced the great audience. “You have seen what happened,” she said in a clear voice. “Can you wonder that I love Buster the Bear?”

The audience went wild, shouting and waving to them, and Buster was so confused he hardly knew what to do. In the next story Buster becomes a famous trick bear.

STORY X

BUSTER BECOMES A TRICK BEAR

Buster was not popular among the animals of the circus after his fight with Spot the Leopard, but he was a great favorite with the circus people. From being regarded as a dangerous bear, ready to kill his trainer at any moment, he was looked upon thereafter as a special pet who could be trusted by every one.

Of course, it was Chiquita who favored him the most. She bestowed more attention upon him than on any of the others. She petted him, praised him, feeding him dainties, and giving him the softest bed in the place. She even permitted him to roam about the rooms she occupied, and as Buster did not get in mischief or do any harm his liberty was extended day by day.

Buster grew as fond of Chiquita as she was of him, and he obeyed her as meekly and willingly as a pet dog. None of the ugly temper he showed when fighting Spot in the cage showed itself again, and Chiquita began training him for trick performances.

Buster had already received a little training, and he was quick to pick up his new lessons. He soon learned to jump through a hoop, skip rope, and turn somersaults back and forth. Then one day, Chiquita said:

“You would make a good clown, Buster, I believe. Yes, you would.”

Not knowing what a clown was, Buster merely grinned and nodded his head. Chiquita made a wonderful dress for him out of red, white and blue flannel, and with a tall hat on his head Buster looked like the cartoon of Uncle Sam. Dressed as the goddess of liberty, Chiquita appeared in the arena walking arm in arm with her escort.

This brought great applause from the audience, and what pleased the people pleased Buster. He grinned and nodded his head, and strutted around with his head high in the air.

All the time he was receiving special favors and attention, Spot the Leopard and Ocelot the Jungle Cat were in their cages watching for an opportunity to get revenge on him. The pain they suffered from Buster’s hard blows was nothing to what they suffered in mind and spirit. They were nearly consumed with rage and envy.

Buster never passed near the cage without their snarling and spitting at him. They could do this in safety, for the iron bars were between them. Right down in their hearts, however, they were afraid of him.

Buster, who carried no spirit of ill-feeling against them, merely grinned when they spit at him. But one day he stopped in front of Spot’s cage, and said:

“Why don’t you forget and forgive, Spot? This carrying a grouch around with you all the time spoils your face. Let’s be friends.”

“Friends!” snarled Spot. “I may think of that after I’ve clawed off some of your hide!”

“Me too!” echoed Ocelot. “And I’d like to begin with your eyes.”

“And I’ll lap up his warm blood when you’ve killed him,” growled Timber the Wolf from his cage.

Buster, instead of being offended at these threats, sat back on his haunches and laughed. Then noticing the Old Lion watching them, his eyes blinking sleepily, he turned to him.

“What would you like to do to me, Old Lion?” he asked.

“Nothing, Buster, except to give you some good advice,” was the reply.

“That’s a friendly offer. I’ll listen to it.”

The Old Lion winked and blinked, stretched himself with a yawn, and then sat up looking for all the world like the noble king of the beasts.

“When your enemies threaten you, Buster,” he said slowly, “it is wise to listen to them so you may be prepared. Don’t let the pride of strength deceive you. The mouse gnawed through the net that the lion couldn’t break, and Cobra the Reptile put a whole jungle of animals to flight. That is all, Buster.”

“Thank you, Old Lion,” replied Buster. “I’ll remember what you said.”

“It doesn’t make any difference to me whether you remember it or not,” was the answer, as the Old Lion stretched out and went to sleep.

Buster did remember the advice for a few days, and then forgot it. He also ignored Spot and Ocelot, for they refused to make friends with him. Meanwhile, his progress as a trick bear increased, and he appeared nightly before big audiences with Chiquita.

One day the big tent was taken down, for the circus was to move to another town. There was such noise and confusion that every one was upset. Buster found his customary resting place filled with packing boxes and baggage. Somewhat put out by this he wandered around, and finally climbed on the top of a bundle of canvas away from the confusion.

It was a soft, comfortable bed, and Buster soon fell asleep. He snored and rolled around in his slumber until attendants came running up to find out what the trouble was. When they discovered him, they laughed and said:

“It’s only Buster taking his mid-day snooze with the high treble stops wide open.”

Buster hadn’t noticed that the pile of canvas was close to the two cages where Spot and Ocelot were kept. They had kept so quiet that he never suspected their nearness. But the Leopard and Jungle Cat had seen him, and were watching him with flashing eyes.

As he snored and rolled around in his sleep, they kept their eyes patiently and watchfully on him. Once a shaggy paw came close to Spot’s cage, and he stealthily put out a fore-arm to see if he could reach it. He fell short about an inch.

He withdrew his paw silently and resumed his watchful waiting. Ocelot on the other side was equally interested in one of Buster’s fore paws. It was within a few feet of his cage.

Buster rolled over and flung his legs out to their full length like an animal stretching. The result was just what the two vengeful enemies were waiting for. Spot reached through the bars of his cage and caught the hind leg of Buster with his sharp claws, and Ocelot attacked one of his fore-legs.

Buster was aroused from his sleep by sharp pains that seemed like a thousand needles sticking in him. When he attempted to spring to his feet he found himself a prisoner. Spot and Ocelot were tugging, tearing and biting with all their might as if they would pull him apart and haul him through the bars of their cages.

Taken at such a disadvantage, Buster for a moment was helpless. Then the pain became so severe that he brought all of his powerful muscles into play, and jerked with such force that both cages came tumbling over on top of him.

The sudden upsetting of their cages startled Spot and Ocelot so that they jumped back in fright. Buster was immediately on his feet, rolling the cages around as if they had been made of jackstraws. With a lightning blow through the bars he struck Spot a whack that sent him reeling backward. Then before he could recover, Buster sprang around on the opposite side and knocked him back. For a moment it looked as if he would break through the cage and kill Spot.

When the attendants ran up, Buster was shaking Ocelot’s cage in a vain endeavor to get at him. The Jungle Cat was so frightened that he shivered and whined for mercy. Buster’s anger could not be quieted until Chiquita came up. She patted him, and led him away to bind up his wounds. The Leopard and Jungle Cat were glad to see him go. In trying to get revenge on Buster they had been punished nearly as much as he.

“I should have remembered the Old Lion’s advice,” Buster said to himself when Chiquita bound up his wounds. Then looking at her, he added: “But there’s some good in everything. I wouldn’t have such a tender nurse if I wasn’t wounded.” And he smiled with satisfaction.

Next will come the story of how Buster was caught in a railroad wreck.

STORY XI

BUSTER IN A RAILROAD WRECK

The circus was preparing to move into its winter quarters, and it was the confusion of packing that caused Buster to get mixed up with Spot and Ocelot in their cages. His injuries were very slight, and within a few days after Chiquita had bound them up his legs were as good as new.

He felt a little angry at the Leopard and Jungle Cat for attacking him when fast asleep, but Buster wasn’t the kind to nurse a grudge. When his wrath cooled a little he actually laughed at the occurrence. Strolling outside to where the cages were standing, he grinned at the Leopard.

“You got a good dig at me, Spot,” he said, “but with that last cuff I gave you I guess we can call it even. Head ache yet?”

Spot didn’t reply, but paced his narrow cage in restless dissatisfaction. Buster turned to the Jungle Cat.

“How about you, Ocelot! Got over your scare yet? I didn’t touch you, but you looked as scared as a rat in a trap when I shook your cage.”

Ocelot showed the same silent contempt and refused to reply other than with a low snarl. Buster turned to Old Lion.

“The only cheerful one I find in this group is you, Old Lion,” he added. “Spot and Ocelot don’t look happy, and Timber the Wolf acts as if he had an ingrowing pain in his stomach. How about you?”

“I’m always cheerful,” replied Old Lion. “That’s why I’ve grown bald and toothless, and lived to a good old age. Spot and Ocelot will die young if they don’t change their manners. So will you, Buster.”

“Why,” stammered Buster, “I do try to be cheerful. I didn’t know I was anything else.”

“That may be,” replied Old Lion, “but you’re too ready for a fight. Every battle you get in shortens your life by so many days.”

“I don’t fight unless I’m attacked,” was the quick reply.

“I didn’t know the animals attacked you the other night in the circus. You started the fight.”

“Yes, but not until after they had attacked Chiquita,” Buster said indignantly. “I had to protect her, for she was a friend of mine.”

“Are you going to fight to protect all your friends in this world?” asked Old Lion sleepily. “If you do, I predict you will die young. Now I must go to sleep, for we begin our long journey soon, and I do hate riding on a train. It rasps my nerves.”

Buster never knew how seriously to take the Old Lion’s words, but he was a companionable and harmless old fellow, and sometimes rambled on just to hear himself talk. He was getting so old that talking was the easiest thing to do, and between eating and sleeping that was about all he did. Sometimes he appeared in the circus as a fierce old lion, who had killed any number of keepers, but it was growing harder and harder for him to assume the pose. He wasn’t fierce looking at all, except when he roared, and that was such an exertion he seldom did it unless prodded by the attendants.

“How does it feel to ride on a train?” Buster asked when he saw that the Old Lion was going to drop off asleep right before him.

“How does it feel?” he drawled. “Why, it feels as if all the bones in your body were rattling, and when the train stops--and it’s stopping all the time when it isn’t going--you stand on your head and then on your tail, and if you’re lucky you don’t die of fright.”

“It must be a wonderful experience,” remarked Buster.

“It is, and you won’t enjoy it. I don’t know what trains were invented for unless it was to torture those who ride in them. But when we get there we’ll have a long rest.”

“Where?” asked Buster.

“Where we’re going, and when you get there you wonder why you came, and where you are. Now do you understand?”

Buster laughed good-naturedly, for his quizzing was making the Old Lion irritable. He wanted to sleep and Buster strolled away, leaving him to enjoy his nap.

The next day the animals were taken aboard the train. Some of the harmless ones were led there and tied to posts in box cars, and others like Ocelot and Spot were lifted aboard in their stout cages. No chance could be taken with them.

Buster found himself in a small compartment of a baggage car, with Chiquita occupying a seat just forward of him. She trusted him so much that she liked to have him near her. But as he had never been on a railroad journey before he was fastened in the car by a chain.

“You might forget yourself, Buster, or get excited, and try to jump off when the train was moving,” she said to him, when chaining him up. “It isn’t because I don’t trust you. You understand that, don’t you?”

Buster nodded his head, as she patted him, and looked at the chain. It was not a very strong one, and he smiled at the thought of what he could do to it if he wanted to escape. He could snap it in two with one jerk of his powerful body.

The train started finally, and Buster was as interested and excited as a child on her first railroad journey. The jolting and rattling began almost at once. He recalled Old Lion’s words, and wondered if he was groaning in agony. Such rolling and jerking were enough to rattle Old Lion’s teeth loose. And Spot and Ocelot! How did they like the noise and confusion?

The train steamed along slowly at first, and then faster. Through a window in the baggage car Buster could see the houses and trees flashing past as if they were all running in the opposite direction. It was a funny sensation. Instead of being frightened by it, Buster enjoyed it.

“I never ran so fast in my life,” he said to himself. “Even Loup the Lynx couldn’t run as fast as this.”

He stopped and scowled. He never thought of Loup without growing angry. The Lynx had treated him in a cowardly, cruel way, and Buster somehow wanted to punish him for it. But there seemed little prospect of his ever meeting the Lynx again.

“Oh, well,” Buster sighed, “I can’t spoil my temper thinking of something that happened in the past.”

Still right down in his heart he had a great desire to go back to the woods where he had been born. Perhaps his mother was alive yet, and he would dearly like to see her again. How surprised she would be to find him grown up, fully as big as she, and far more powerful!

Suddenly in the midst of these thoughts there came a grinding shriek outside, and the most fearful of explosions. Buster raised his head to listen, and then he was thrown against the opposite side of the baggage car with such force that the chain snapped. Everything began to break and fall down upon him, the whole roof of the car collapsing.

Stunned by the fall, and unable to understand what had happened, Buster lay there a moment in silence. Everything was quiet after that awful noise, but wild shrieks of Ocelot, Spot and other animals soon filled the air. Then came the deafening hiss of steam, and shouts and cries of men.

What had happened! Buster was curious to know what all this noise meant, and finding himself loose, with no roof over him, he climbed out of the wreck. It was dark outside, but there were many lights flashing around.

Buster walked down the track where a group of men were at work. They paid no attention to him, and he sat down to wait. Chiquita would come along soon to claim him. But he waited and waited, and nobody paid any attention to him. Finally, he got up and wandered off in the fields, and before he stopped he was lost and couldn’t find his way back again.

“I think I’ll sleep here until morning,” he said, seeking a good resting place under a tree. “Then I’ll find my way back to the train.”

But it wasn’t the train he found. It was the little girl who had given him candy that day he danced for pennies.

STORY XII

BUSTER MEETS THE LITTLE GIRL AGAIN

When Buster woke the next morning the sun was just peeping above the trees. He had slept so soundly that he couldn’t recall right away all that had happened the previous night. He opened his eyes, and was surprised when he found that nothing around him was familiar.

He grunted and rose to his feet, blinking at the sun. Then it all returned to him. He remembered the jolt and crash, and the splintering of the roof of his car. He rubbed his head to see if the bruise still hurt him, and winced when it pained him.

“I wonder what happened to the Old Lion,” he said, grinning. “He must have lost all his teeth last night.”

Then he thought of Chiquita. If she was in the wreck, too, she may have lost something more than her teeth. Suppose she had lost her life! This thought grieved Buster.

“I must go back and find out,” he said. “She’ll miss me.”

He waddled away through the bushes until he came to a road that was unfamiliar to him. Which way did he go to reach the railroad? He started up it, but hadn’t gone far before he saw a man approaching, carrying a basket on his arm. Buster was less alarmed than the man apparently, for with a shriek of terror the latter dropped his basket and ran up the road so fast that he was soon out of sight.

“What a foolish thing to do,” laughed Buster. “He must have had an evil conscience or he wouldn’t be frightened like that.”

He waddled up to the basket the man had dropped. One sniff at its contents made his heart jump with joy. It was filled with nice fresh bread, rolls, and two blackberry pies.

Buster didn’t consider it stealing. The man had left the basket, and it belonged to any one who found it. He was very hungry, but bear-like or boy-like (I don’t know which to call it) he began with the blackberry pies instead of the bread. He ate them up rapidly, stuffing them in his mouth with both paws. When they were gone he looked through the basket for more.

The bread didn’t taste nearly so good after the pies, but Buster was still very hungry, and, not finding any more dessert, he began slowly munching the bread. If there had been soup, I suppose, he would have ended his meal with that.

After eating a dozen rolls, and one loaf of bread, he felt better. A noise up the street, accompanied by loud shouting, suddenly made him stop and listen. Perhaps the man who owned the basket was returning with help.

Buster decided that he wouldn’t wait until the men appeared, and taking a loaf of bread in each of his front paws he climbed over the fence and disappeared in the woods. Long before the men reached the spot he had made his way into the heart of a big swamp where he sat down and finished his meal.

He felt so much better by that time that he took a long drink from the brook, and then resumed his journey. He came out of the swamp on the opposite side, and seeing a hill climbed to the top. He hoped to get a view of the railroad from there.

But when he reached it he saw no signs of it. There was a small cluster of houses on his right, a swamp and woods behind him, and open country on his left, with here and there a farm house. Buster decided to keep away from the village.

The farm houses attracted him, for he could hear the crowing of a rooster off in that direction and the cackling of geese. There was the moo of a cow and the neighing of a horse from one barn-yard, and the barking of a dog from another.

“I won’t bother the dog,” Buster said, keeping away from that farm-yard. “They’re harmless, but very annoying.”

He waddled across a field and climbed a fence until he stood in the barn-yard of the nearest farm. After reaching the barn he poked his head in the open doorway. A boy was in there milking a cow. Buster watched the streams of milk, and a sudden desire to taste milk again made him forget all caution. He stepped across the threshold, a pleasant grin on his face, and a rollicking smile in his eyes.

But the boy didn’t see anything friendly in either the grin or the twinkling eyes. When he glanced up and caught sight of Buster, he sat on his milk stool as if paralyzed, and then recovering himself he let out a shrill cry and darted for the opposite door. He disappeared like a flash, leaving the milk pail behind him.

“How foolish of him!” said Buster. “I wouldn’t hurt him!”

He picked up the milk pail and held it to his lips. There was a gurgle, gurgle as the milk ran down his throat, and it never stopped until three whole quarts were emptied in his stomach.

“That makes me feel better,” he said, rubbing his fat stomach. “I’m so full now I can hardly walk. I’m sleepy, too.”

The hay-mow overhead attracted him. How pleasant it would be to rest and sleep there! He was going to climb up the ladder for this purpose when a great noise outside alarmed him. He peeked out, and saw a big crowd of men and boys armed with sticks, axes, pitchforks and shot-guns, running toward the barn.

Buster decided to leave, for he had no desire to meet the crowd. While his enemies came in the front door, Buster ran out of the back one, crossed an orchard, and reached a field beyond before he was discovered. He had a long start of them, but when they caught sight of him again they began to blaze away with their shot-guns.

Buster was an excellent runner, and he made good time. Ahead of him was a bigger house, with a wide lawn in front, and a garden in back. Buster wasn’t going to enter this place, but another crowd of men appeared in front of him. If he kept on he would run right into their arms.

Buster darted to the right, crossed the lawn and reached the back of the house. There was no one around, and Buster hunted for a hiding place. There was an open window over his head on the second story of the house, and a low shed leading up to it.

Buster suddenly decided that was his best hiding place, and up the shed he climbed, scrambling to the roof and crawling across this to the open window. He looked inside, and seeing no one he entered.

He was breathing hard, for after eating so much, his exertions told on him. This noise must have awakened the little sleeper on the bed, for suddenly she rose up and startled Buster so that he nearly fell down in a faint. He supposed the room was empty, and here was a young person staring at him. He stared back, grinning foolishly. He felt very much like a boy who had been caught stealing.

Then to his surprise the girl clapped her hands, and said: “Oh, I believe you’re Buster! Yes, I know you are! And I’m so glad!”

Until then Buster hadn’t recognized the little person. Now he remembered her. It was the little girl who had offered him a stick of candy that day he danced for pennies on the street.

But what pleased Buster more than anything else was her joy. She wasn’t a bit afraid of him! She wasn’t going to run away and scream for help. She wouldn’t hand him over to the men pursuing him with shot-guns. What a relief to him this was! She was surely his friend, and would protect him just as Chiquita had done so many times. He grinned with pleasure, and waddled toward the bed.

How the little girl outwitted the men, and saved Buster from them, will be told in the next story.

STORY XIII

BUSTER AND THE LITTLE GIRL

Instead of showing fear when Buster approached the bed, the little girl held out a hand, and when he was near enough she took one of his shaggy paws and patted it. This seemed natural enough to Buster, for he could not understand why any one should be afraid of him, and Chiquita had done the same thing many times; but to most little girls perhaps it would seem like a brave and fearless thing. This little girl like Little Red Riding-Hood was not afraid of bears or wolves until they tried to eat her up.

“I’m glad to see you, Buster,” she said with quaint gravity. “But how did you ever get here?”

Buster grinned and turned his head toward the open window. The little girl followed his gaze, and instantly understood.

“Oh, you came through the window,” she added. “That makes it so much more interesting. Fairies and elves always come through open windows. Won’t you sit down?”

Buster was quite tired after his hard run, and was very glad to accept this invitation. The foot of the bed seemed a very inviting seat, and he sat on the white coverlet.

But almost immediately he sprang up in alarm. The springs creaked under his great weight, and for a moment it looked as if the whole bed would collapse. He jumped to his feet with a queer expression on his face. In fact, he wasn’t sure but this was some sort of a trap set for him.

But the little girl laughed merrily at the accident, and clapped both hands. He could not believe she was attempting to deceive him, and he grinned like a foolish boy who had discovered a bent pin in his chair.

“Oh, Buster,” she cried, “I guess this isn’t a _bear_-bed. You’re too heavy for it. Maybe the chair will hold you.”

Buster turned and looked at the chair. He seemed a little doubtful, but he wanted to be polite. He tried it carefully, but when it began to crack and groan under his weight he was wise enough not to go any further. He shook his head, and put the chair back in its place.

The little girl shrieked with laughter again. It was very amusing to her, and Buster, not wishing to offend her, grinned and nodded his head. He liked children, and this one was anxious to play with him. After a while she grew serious again, and looked around at every article in the room.

“I don’t know, Buster,” she said slowly, “but you’ll have to sit on the floor. I don’t think anything else is strong enough to hold you. It’s not very polite to ask visitors to sit on the floor, but what else can I do, unless you prefer to stand?”

Buster didn’t prefer to stand. He was very tired, and he didn’t mind the floor as a seat at all. In fact, it was more suitable to him than a bed or chair. So he squatted down on his haunches, and smiled. Even then his head towered above the little girl’s.

“Are you comfortable there?” she asked.

Buster nodded. “Then,” she added, “you must tell me where you came from, and how you escaped those cruel men. I want to hear the whole story. It’s better than a story from a book, and I love story books about bears. Did you ever hear the story of Goldy Locks or the Three Little Bears? No. Then I’ll tell you.”

But she didn’t have time. Just then there was a great commotion outside. Men were shouting and calling, dogs barking, and a great hullabaloo going on under the open window.

“What’s that!” exclaimed the little girl, hopping out of the bed, and running to the window in her bare feet.

Buster could have told her what the noise meant, and for a moment he thought it was his duty to give himself up to keep the little girl from being harmed. Suppose the crowd searching for him should hurt her! He got up, and tried to pull her away from the window, but she pushed him back quickly.

“Go back, Buster!” she cried. “They’re looking for you, but they won’t have you. They mustn’t see you!”