ver quite sure what they were saying.
But the bear was always scheming to get away; he was like the Boers,
and could not abide British rule. Philip would not have kept him at
all, but as he had taken him into the family circle when a cub he did
not like to be cruel and turn him out along in a heartless world.
Twice Bruin managed to untie the clothes line and started for the
forty-acre. He crawled along very slowly, and when he saw Philip
coming after him, he stopped, looked behind him, and said, "Hoo,"
showing his disgust. Then Philip took hold of the end of the clothes
line and brought him back, scolding all the time.

"You miserable Bruin, you don't know what's good for you; you can't
tell a light-wood from a gum-tree, and you'll die of starvation, or
else the boys will find you, and they will kill you, thinking you are
a wild bush bear, for you don't show any signs of good education,
after all the trouble I have taken to teach you manners. I am afraid
you will come to a bad end."

And so he did. The third time Bruin loosed the clothes line he had a
six hours' start before he was missed, and sure enough he hid himself
in a lightwood for want of sense, and that very night the boys saw
him by the light of the moon, and Hugh Boyle climbed up the tree and
knocked him down with a waddy.

Pussy, Philip's sixth domestic, had attained her majority; she had
never gone after snakes in her youth, and had always avoided bad
company. She did her duty in the house as a good mouser, and when
mice grew scarce she went hunting for game; she had a hole under the
eaves near the chimney, through which she could enter the hut at any
time of the night or day. While Philip was musing after tea on the
"Pons Asinorum" by the light of a tallow candle, Pussy was out
poaching for quail, and as soon as she caught one she brought it
home, dropped it on the floor, rubbed her side against Philip's
boot, and said, "I have brought a little game for breakfast." Then
Philip stroked her along the back, after which she lay down before
the fire, tucked in her paws and fell asleep, with a good conscience.

But many bush cats come to an unhappy and untimely end by giving way
to the vice of curiosity. When Dinah, the vain kitten, takes her
first walk abroad in spring time, she observes something smooth and
shiny gliding gently along. She pricks up her ears, and gazes at the
interesting stranger; then she goes a little nearer, softly lifting
fi