Bo the fiddle, and running lightly to the hedge cleared it at
a bound.

"Fine!" shouted Bo.

Horatio, without pausing, hurried over to the tree.

"Funny they should leave those oranges so late," thought the little boy
as he watched him.

Swinging himself to the first limb, the Bear shook off a lot of the fine
yellow fruit, and climbing down, gathered in his arms all he could
carry. As he did so there came a loud barking of dogs, and without
looking behind him he started to run. He dropped a few of the oranges,
but kept straight on, the two huge dogs that had appeared getting closer
and closer. As he reached the hedge he once more made a grand leap, but
the oranges prevented him doing so well as before. His foot caught in
the top branches and he rolled over and over in the dusty road, the
oranges flying in every direction. The dogs behind the hedge barked and
raged.

Horatio rose, dusty and panting, but triumphant.

"You see, Bo," he said, "what it is to be brave. You can fill your
pockets now with these delicious oranges."

He picked up one as he spoke, and brushing off the dust, bit it in half
cheerfully. Then Bo, who was watching him, saw a strange thing take
place. The half orange flew out of the Bear's mouth as from a popgun,
and his face became so distorted that the boy thought his friend was
having a spasm. Suddenly he whirled, and making a rush at the fallen
oranges, began to kick them in every direction, coughing and spitting
every second. The two dogs looking over the hedge stopped barking to
enjoy the fun. One of the oranges rolled to Bo's feet. He picked it up
and smelled it. Then rubbing it on his coat he bit into it. It was not a
large bite, but it was enough. The tears rolled from his eyes and every
tooth in his head jumped. Such a mixture of stinging sour and bitter he
had never dreamed of. It grabbed him by the throat and shook him until
his bones cracked. The top of his head seemed coming loose, and his ears
fairly snapped. Then he realized what Horatio must be suffering, and
laughed in spite of himself.

[Illustration: FLEW OUT OF HIS MOUTH AS FROM A POP GUN.]

"They are mock oranges, Ratio," he shouted, "and they are mocking us for
stealing them!"

Horatio had seated himself by the roadside and was snorting and clawing
at his tongue.

"I must have some honey, Bo," he said, "to take away that dreadful
taste. You must find me some honey, Bo."

"You see, Ratio," said the little boy, "it