wards them, they screamed and tried to hide behind Miss
Brown.

When at last Bruin had emptied the baskets, and evidently filled
himself with the good country lunches, he prepared to take a nap, and
rolling his great body over in the small space he hit the open door,
and, to the horror of Miss Brown, pushed it shut with a bang that
latched it, and made him a prisoner as well as themselves!

Now indeed the stoutest heart turned weak.

"Good Heavens, boys!" said Miss Brown to the two or three older
pupils, "what can we do?"

"I don't see as we can do anything except keep him out of here till
men come to look for us," said the oldest boy, who was about fourteen,
and used to the ways of the country.

"And that won't be," said Miss Brown, "till they are alarmed because
we don't get home."

"Yes," said the boy; "not before five or six o'clock. We're often that
late getting home."

This was a dreary prospect, indeed, and wails and cries began again to
fill the room. Miss Brown saw that she must rouse herself and quell
the panic before it got beyond bounds.

She thought quickly, then said, quietly as she could, though her voice
trembled at first:--

"Children, shall I tell you a story?"

Story is a magic word to a child, and in a moment the smaller ones
were camped down on the floor around her--having no benches to sit
on--while Miss Brown racked her brain to think of stirring incidents
to keep them interested.

Story after story fell from her lips; lunch time came--but there were
no lunches. Miss Brown struggled on; words came slowly,--her lips and
throat were dry,--she sipped a little water and struggled on.

All sorts of possible and impossible adventures she related; she told
strange facts of history with the wildest fancies of romance-makers;
fairies and pirates, and queens and beggar girls, in one mad medley.
She never in after years could recall anything that passed her lips in
those terrible hours.

Some of the smaller children, worn out with crying, fell asleep, and
as the hours passed and twilight stole over the world, hope began to
revive; surely the fathers of the village must come to seek their
children.

The bear still slept, but they dared not make much noise for fear of
arousing him. Twilight deepened and night came on,--still no rescue.

Men were out seeking them; all the village, in fact, but when they
tried the schoolhouse door and could not open it, they concluded that
school had been di