Noozak was a thoughtful old mother of a bear who had reared fifteen or eighteen families in her time, and she travelled very little this first day in order that Neewa’s tender feet might toughen up a bit.  They scarcely left the fen, except to go into a nearby clump of trees where Noozak used her claws to shred a spruce that they might get at the juice and slimy substance just under the bark.  Neewa liked this dessert after their feast of roots and bulbs, and tried to claw open a tree on his own account.  By mid-afternoon Noozak had eaten until her sides bulged out, and Neewa himself—­between his mother’s milk and the many odds and ends of other things—­looked like an over-filled pod.  Selecting a spot where the declining sun made a warm oven of a great white rock, lazy old Noozak lay down for a nap, while Neewa, wandering about in quest of an adventure of his own, came face to face with a ferocious bug.

The creature was a giant wood-beetle two inches long.  Its two battling pincers were jet black, and curved like hooks of iron.  It was a rich brown in colour and in the sunlight its metallic armour shone in a dazzling splendour.  Neewa, squatted flat on his belly, eyed it with a swiftly beating heart.  The beetle was not more than a foot away, and advancing!  That was the curious and rather shocking part of it.  It was the first living thing he had met with that day that had not run away.  As it advanced slowly on its two rows of legs the beetle made a clicking sound that Neewa heard quite distinctly.  With the fighting blood of his father, Soominitik, nerving him on to the adventure he thrust out a hesitating paw, and instantly Chegawasse, the beetle, took upon himself a most ferocious aspect.  His wings began humming like a buzz-saw, his pincers opened until they could have taken in a man’s finger, and he vibrated on his legs until it looked as though he might be performing some sort of a dance.  Neewa jerked his paw back and after a moment or two Chegawasse calmed himself and again began to advance!

Neewa did not know, of course, that the beetle’s field of vision ended about four inches from the end of his nose; the situation, consequently, was appalling.  But it was never born in a son of a father like Soominitik to run from a bug, even at nine weeks of age.  Desperately he thrust out his paw again, and unfortunately for him one of his tiny claws got a half Nelson on the beetle and held Chegawasse on his shining back so that he could neither buzz not click.  A great exultation swept through Neewa.  Inch by inch he drew his paw in until the beetle was within reach of his sharp little teeth.  Then he smelled of him.

That was Chegawasse’s opportunity.  The pincers closed and Noozak’s slumbers were disturbed by a sudden bawl of agony.  When she raised her head Neewa was rolling about as if in a fit.  He was scratching and snarling and spitting.  Noozak eyed him speculatively for some moments, then reared herself slowly and went to him.  With one big paw she rolled him over—­and saw Chegawasse firmly and determinedly attached to her offspring’s nose.  Flattening Neewa on his back so that he could not move she seized the beetle between her teeth, bit slowly until Chegawasse lost his hold, and then swallowed him.