“Oh, will he?” cried Ethel Rose, and so she walked along beside Curly, who was carrying his pail of sour milk.  And, all of a sudden, when they were near the bungalow, there was a rustling in the bushes, and out jumped a big black bear.

“Ah, ha!” the bear cried.  “Now I have you Curly, and you, too, Ethel Rose!  Oh, how nice!  You come with me and I will tell your fortune!”

“But I know my fortune already,” said Ethel Rose, and she was just ready to cry again, for she did not like bears.

“Never mind, come along to my den, anyhow!” growled the bear.  “I am going to have roast pork for supper!” and he made a grab for Curly and Ethel Rose, and caught them in his big claws.

And then, all at once, he saw the pail Curly was carrying—­that bear did—­and he growled out: 

“Ha!  Ha!  What have we here?  Something good, I’ll venture.  Well, I’ll take that first!” And before Curly could stop him the bear tipped up the pail and drank every drop of sour milk at one mouthful!  And then!  Oh, dear!

“Wow!  Woof!  Snickery-snee!  Bur-r-r!  Lemons!  Vinegar!  Sourgrass!” cried the bear.  And his mouth was puckered up so from the sour milk—­ just as when you eat lemons if you have the mumps—­that the bear couldn’t open his jaws to take even one bite.  And Curly knew this, so he cried: 

“Come on, Ethel Rose, we can get away now!  Uncle Wiggily will save us!” So Curly Tail helped Ethel Rose to run away and the bear’s mouth was so puckered up from the sour milk that he had to run down to the lake to get a drink of water, and so Curly Tail and pretty Ethel Rose got safely to the bungalow and away from the bear.  And that’s all there is tonight, if you please.

But the next story, in case the marshmallow doesn’t stick on Ethel Rose’s hair ribbon, and make a pin cushion of it, will be about Flop and the pie lady.

STORY XX

FLOP AND THE PIE LADY

Uncle Wiggily Longears, the nice old gentleman rabbit, and the two piggie boys, Flop Ear and Curly Tail, were sitting on the porch at the bungalow at Raccoon Island, Lake Hopatcong, wondering what they could do next for their autumn vacation fun.  Curly was trying to take some snapshot photographs of a little red squirrel, who was jumping down across the cot beds, all in a row like soldiers, and Flop was wondering whether he could catch any fish.

“Well, we must do something,” said Uncle Wiggily.  “It isn’t every day you boys get a vacation after the regular summer one, so you must enjoy it.”

“We wouldn’t have gotten it if the roof hadn’t blown off our school,” said Flop, “and, as long as we’re here, I say let’s go off in the woods and look for chestnuts.”

“All right,” said Curly, and they were just going to leave the bungalow, when, all at once, there was a rustling in the bushes and out came—­no, not a bear or a wolf, or even a bad skillery-scalery alligator, this time.  No, it was a nice lady, with real soft, brown hair, and the jolliest whistle you ever heard!