“Then he said ‘Wah!’ quite loud and sharp, to see if that would frighten the imperturbable stranger.  But Stripes didn’t seem to mind noises like that.  His bright, intelligent eyes were on the bear all the time, you know, though he seemed to be so busy hunting for that bird’s nest.

“‘Pooh!’ said the bear to himself, ’he’s just plain idiot, that’s what’s the matter with him.  I’ll eat him, anyway!’ and he bounced forward, with paw uplifted, intending to gather Stripes as he would a fat cricket.”

Here Uncle Andy was so inconsiderate as to pause and relight his pipe.  The Babe clutched his arm.

“Well,” he went on presently, “just at this moment Stripes made as if he was going to run away, after all.  He whisked round and jumped about two feet, and his fine tail flew up over his back, and in that very instant the bear thought the whole side of the hill had struck him in the face.

“He stopped with a bump, his nose went straight up in the air, and he squalled:  ‘Wah-ah!  Wah—­’ But in the middle of these remarks he choked and strangled and started pawing wildly at his nose, trying to get his breath.

“His eyes were shut tight, and that deadly oil clung like glue.  His paws couldn’t begin to get it off, and so he fell to rooting his nose in the turf like a pig, and plowing the grass with his whole face, fairly standing on his head in his efforts, all the time coughing and gurgling as if he was having a fit.

“His behavior, in fact, was perfectly ridiculous; but there was no one there to laugh at it but Stripes, and he was too polite.  He just strolled on quietly to another bush, and kept looking for that bird’s nest.

“At last the bear, what with pawing and rooting, managed to get his breath and open his eyes.  He wallowed a bit more, and then sat up, his nose full of dirt, and moss and grass hanging all over his face.  He was a sight, I tell you!  And how he did dislike himself!

“As he sat there, thinking how he’d ever get away from himself, he caught sight of Stripes, strolling off quietly over the brown hillocks.  Sitting back on his haunches, he blinked at the little, leisurely black-and-white figure.

“‘And to think I was going to eat that!’ he said to himself sadly.”

CHAPTER XV

DAGGER BILL AND THE WATER BABIES

“What’s that?” demanded the Babe nervously, as a peal of wild, crazy laughter rang out over the surface of the lake.

“Why, don’t you know what that is yet?” Said Uncle Andy with a superior air.  “That’s old Dagger Bill, the big black-and-white loon.  Sounds as if he was terribly amused, doesn’t he?  But he’s only calling to his big black-and-white mate, or the two little Dagger Bills they hatched out in the spring.”

“What does he do?” asked the Babe.