FUZZY-WUZZ
CHAPTER I
MOTHER BROWN BEAR
THE stars, twinkling like diamonds on a black velvet sky, looked down that night on a tender sight. A huge brown bear lay in the mouth of her cave in the rocks above the falls, nuzzling her babies to sleep.
A crafty old coyote also watched, his yellow eyes gleaming murderously at the tiny balls of fur. Soon, he told himself, the mother would have to go in search of her own supper, leaving the cubs asleep in the den. He licked his chops at the thought.
The littlest cub looked so tender and helpless! His cinnamon-brown fur, that matched the red-brown soil and the red-brown trunks of the pines, was still as fuzzy as a kitten’s.
But it just happened that the cubs werenot left alone that night. As the last red flush had faded from the peak of Red Top, their mother had had an unexpected feast. A Forest Ranger, with his camp outfit on a burro, had stopped at the foot of the falls to cook a string of trout and other good things, and had then pushed on up the trail to the hot springs, where he had work to do.
The mother bear had scarcely waited till the man was out of sight before she had gobbled up the fish heads, the left-over flapjacks, the bacon rind, everything,—while the burro, hobbled with a rope about his heels, had snorted in alarm and browsed as far away as he could get.
Now she could stay at home, at least till daybreak,—for her clever nose had caught the message that the breeze carried her, from that sneaking little yellow wild dog, and no coyote was going to steal a march on her! Her teeth gleamed in a snarl as she thought of the danger to her unweaned cubs.
Had she seen more of men, she would have thought it strange that the Ranger should leave his burro and pack behind. But this was in the high Sierras, a steep mountainsidewhere few men passed, and she had seen little of the strange creatures who always walked on their hind legs and made mysterious fires.
In one way she was different from most bears. She had three cubs instead of only two. It was about all she could keep track of. Of course they were obedient youngsters. Wild babies have to be, if they are to survive.
When their mother took the trail to the river, they followed her in single file, the biggest cub first, wee Fuzzy-Wuzz at the end of the procession. If she heard something she did not understand, and rose to her hind legs to listen, the three little bears stood up the same way, pricking their ears and trying to hear what she heard. If she sniffed at a strange scent, they sniffed; and if she turned and ran, they turned and scrambled after her as fast as their fat legs could carry them.
As it happened, the Ranger returned to camp before the yellow moon had risen from behind the lacework of the pines, and, gathering an armful of springy fir boughs, made his bed by the river, which slapped rhythmicallyagainst the rocks in the stealthy quiet.
It was just as he was watering the burro in the chill of sun-up that the shaggy one led her little family forth on an exploring expedition. Plodding along with her nose to the trail, she suddenly heard the sound of footsteps. Instantly, with a startled “Hoof!” she rose to her full height. Instantly three wee mimics rose to their hind legs behind her, breathing each his startled little “Hoof!”