the bark, to make the cuts heal.

Then, all of a sudden, out from behind a bush jumped the same bad bear
that had done the scratching.

"Ah, ha!" growled the bear, as soon as he saw Uncle Wiggily, "you can't
fool me again, making believe a stone is a bullet, and that your
'Bang!' is a gun! You can't fool me! I know all about the trick you
played on me. A little bird, sitting up in a tree, saw it and told me!"

"Well," said Uncle Wiggily slowly, "I'm sorry I had to fool you, but it
was all for the best. I wanted to save the beech tree."

"Oh, I don't care!" cried the bear, saucy like and impolitely. "I'm
going to scratch as much as I like!"

"My goodness! You're almost as bad as the ear-scratching cat!" said
Uncle Wiggily. "I guess I'd better run home to my hollow stump
bungalow."

"No, you don't!" cried the bear, and, reaching out his claws, he caught
hold of Uncle Wiggily, who, with his umbrella, and the bread and sugar,
was standing under the beech tree. "You can't get away from me like
that," and the bear held tightly to the bunny uncle.

"Oh, dear! What are you going to do to me?" asked the rabbit gentleman.

"First, I'll bite you," said the bear. "No, I guess I'll first scratch
you. No, I won't either. I'll scrite you; that's what I'll do. I'll
scrite you!"

"What's scrite?" asked Uncle Wiggily, curious like.

"It's a scratch and a bite made into one," said the bear, "and now I'm
going to do it."

"Oh, ho! No, you aren't!" suddenly cried the beech tree, who had been
thinking of a way to save Uncle Wiggily. "No, you don't scrite my
friend!" And with that the brave tree gave itself a shiver and shake,
and shook down on the bear a lot of sharp, three-cornered beech nuts.
They fell on the bear's soft and tender nose and the sharp edges hurt
him so that he cried:

"Wow! Ouch! I guess I made a mistake! I must run away!"

And away he ran from the shower of sharp beech nuts which didn't hurt
Uncle Wiggily at all because he raised his umbrella and kept them off.
Then he thanked the tree for having saved him from the bear and went
safely home. And if the cow bell doesn't moo in its sleep, and wake up
the milkman before it's time to bring the molasses for breakfast, I'll
tell you next about Uncle Wiggily and the bitter medicine.

STORY XXVII

UNCLE WIGGILY AND THE BITTER MEDICINE

"How is Jackie this morning, Mrs. Bow Wow?" asked Uncle Wiggily
Longears, the rabbit gentleman, one