tying them to a strong but swaying branch he went to his horse,
got a grain-bag, dropped them into that, and rode with them to his
shanty. He fastened each with a collar and chain to a post, up which
they climbed, and sitting on the top they whined and growled,
according to their humor. For the first few days there was danger of
the cubs strangling themselves or of starving to death, but at length
they were beguiled into drinking some milk most ungently procured from
a range cow that was lassoed for the purpose. In another week they
seemed somewhat reconciled to their lot, and thenceforth plainly
notified their captor whenever they wanted food or water.

And thus the two small rills ran on, a little farther down the
mountain now, deeper and wider, keeping near each other; leaping bars,
rejoicing in the sunlight, held for a while by some trivial dam, but
overleaping that and running on with pools and deeps that harbor
bigger things.

II. THE SPRINGS AND THE MINER'S DAM

Jack and Jill, the hunter named the cubs; and Jill, the little fury,
did nothing to change his early impression of her bad temper. When at
food-time the man came she would get as far as possible up the post
and growl, or else sit in sulky fear and silence; Jack would scramble
down and strain at his chain to meet his captor, whining softly, and
gobbling his food at once with the greatest of gusto and the worst of
manners. He had many odd ways of his own, and he was a lasting rebuke
to those who say an animal has no sense of humor. In a month he had
grown so tame that he was allowed to run free. He followed his master
like a dog, and his tricks and funny doings were a continual delight
to Kellyan and the few friends he had in the mountains.

On the creek-bottom below the shack was a meadow where Lan cut enough
hay each year to feed his two ponies through the winter. This year
when hay-time came Jack was his daily companion, either following him
about in dangerous nearness to the snorting scythe, or curling up an
hour at a time on his coat to guard it assiduously from such
aggressive monsters as Ground Squirrels and Chipmunks. An interesting
variation of the day came about whenever the mower found a bumblebees'
nest. Jack loved honey, of course, and knew quite well what a bees'
nest was, so the call, "Honey--Jacky--honey!" never failed to bring
him in waddling haste to the spot. Jerking his nose up in token of
pleasure, he would approach cautiously