hat
now he was surely bound to become bear's meat; for you see poor Bumpus
had considerable to learn about the woods animals, or he would have
known that as a rule the American black bear lives on roots and nuts and
berries, and bothers his head not at all about feasting on fat boys,
such as a tiger might fancy.

Bumpus, however, did not mean to just lie there, and let himself be
eaten, not if he could do anything whatever to prevent such a vacancy in
the Hawtree family. As he struck the ground he began revolving rapidly.
No doubt it was rather like a barrel rolling, for Bumpus was quite
round.

This sort of thing quickly brought him up against the other tent. He had
not meant to make for it, but as soon as his second or third revolution
brought his clutching hands in contact with the canvas, Bumpus had a
brilliant idea. It was not often that he could boast of such an
inspiration; but then a fellow may even surprise himself when the
necessity is great.

If he could only tear away one or two of the loops that were fastened to
ground stakes, what was to hinder him from pushing his way into the
tent, and possibly hiding under some of the blankets?

Eagerly he jerked at the nearest one; and fortunately it seemed to be a
trifle loose, for it came free in his hands. But try as he would he
failed to budge the next stake, which had taken a firm hold.

In a panic, when he saw the walking bear still drawing nearer, poor
Bumpus managed to push his legs under the lower rim of the tightly
stretched canvas. Only the lower half of him could find admittance; the
balance was of such larger girth that in spite of his frantic labor he
could not push under the tent.

There he lay, one half of him safe, and the other exposed to all the
peril. He dropped his face on the grass. Perhaps it was to shut out the
terrible sight; or it may have been that Bumpus was like the foolish
ostrich, which, upon being hotly chased, will thrust its head into a
tuft of grass, and imagine itself hidden from the foe simply because it
cannot see anything.

The others? Well, the boy from the Blue ridge proved himself no mean
sprinter when a real live bear threatened to embrace him; for he had
managed to clamber up a tree with more or less difficulty, and was even
then astride a limb.

There was Step-hen on the other side of the same friendly oak, breathing
hard, and casting frequent looks aloft, as though considering whether it
might not be a wise thing