Straight into all hearts walked the little Samone. Every one in the village loved her, and strangers, learning the child's story, had tried to take her away from Antoine LeBrinn, for Samone was a waif. When Betty, Billy, and Aunt Florence called at the Frenchman's home, Antoine received them with scant courtesy. He supposed that Aunt Florence was one more summer visitor who wanted the child; one more who had come to tell him that she must not be allowed to grow up in a shanty on the beach; and, taking Billy one side, Antoine talked angrily, as he spread his nets to dry.

"Why," remonstrated Billy, "of course, I wouldn't bring any one down here to get Samone away from you. Auntie is glad you have Samone. She says she's glad of it—only—only—" How could Billy explain the errand upon which Aunt Florence had come? He did wish Betty would keep things to herself. Talking to Antoine about drinking didn't do a bit of good, anyway. Billy was sure of it, and he did wish Mrs. LeBrinn and the children were home. They were away huckleberrying. Betty and Aunt Florence were sitting on a log in front of the shanty, waiting for Antoine to finish spreading his nets.

"What for your face she get so red, little Beely?" asked Antoine.

"I was wondering if you would tell us a bear story," replied the little fellow.

"Beely, I tole you one bear story, you tell ole Antoine why your aunt come down to see him."

Billy hesitated only a minute, and then told Antoine that Aunt Florence liked his children so well she wanted him to promise not to drink any more. "I wouldn't have said a word if you hadn't asked me," concluded Billy, "and now you'll tell us a bear story, won't you?"

Antoine laughed long and loud before saying: "Beely, you think your aunt like one bear story?"

"Why, yes, but what are you laughing at, Antoine?"

"Oh, I'm think I'm tell one, two, three, four bear story until your aunt go home, and ole Antoine she laugh."

"How are you going to begin, Aunt Florence?" asked Betty, as Antoine and Billy came toward them hand in hand. "They say he won't promise not to drink; he just will spend every cent he can get when he wants to. Now what are you going to say?"

"Oh, Betty, I don't know how to begin a bit better than you do, but for the sake of those five children somebody ought to try to do something besides laugh at such a man, and I shall try."

"But, auntie, how will you begin?"

"You must wait, Betty, and see."

"Excuse me," Antoine began, "but I'm think I'm tell my friend Beely one bear story. I guess I'm tell you about the white bear. When I'm a little fellow, not so old as you, Beely, my brother have a pet bear. It was so high and so big and his colour was brown."

"Brown," repeated Billy, "I thought you said it was white."

"Maybe so, maybe so, Beely. Well, we all like the little brown bear but my ma, and she don't like that bear so much as I like the switch she always keep on the corner behind the flour barrel. My brother would have the bear on the house, and my ma scold and scold, because that bear get into all kind of troubles. He steal lump of sugar and he eat the codfish, and he help hisself to anything she want.

"Well, Beely, one day my ma hear big noise on what you call the pantry, and that noise, Beely, was near the flour barrel, and when she go over to see what was the matter out jump a little white bear. He was the same little brown bear, Beely, all cover over with flour. My ma was so mad at that bear she ain't know what to do after he spoil all that flour. So she grab the broom, and she chase the bear all over the kitchen. She hit him whack-e-ty whack, Beely, until the poor little bear was pretty near scare to dead, and the air was all full of flour, and everything was all tip over and tumble down and upset, and my ma she look like a crazy woman. By and by she open the door, the little bear scoot out and climb a tree, and then he sit and look on my mother while she stand there and scold him.

"And do you know, Beely, that little pet bear don't want to come on the house no more. You can't coax him on.

"And one time, Beely, I have one little coon; he was my own pet. We catch him when he was a little fellow, and I have to feed him with a spoon, and when he was big he was chuck full of trick, too. One day, when my ma she was milking the cow, she turn her head, and my coon she jump right in the milk. Then my ma gave him a taste of a stick, like this, Beely, whack, whack, whack. Then my ma say to my pa she won't have so much wild animal around, and next day I find my little coon asleep, and he never wake up."

"He died while he was asleep, did he, Antoine?"

"Look that way, look that way, Beely. Now I'm tole you about one time me and my brother start out to find what you call ging-seng; around here we call it shang."

"I never heard of it, Antoine, what is it?"

"It's a root, Beely, the Chinamen want. It used to grow on China, but now she's all gone. It grows wild on the wood here, and you can get four and five dollar a pound for it if you know where to send it. You have to know the wood pretty well, or you ain't know where to find it. Well, Beely, me and my brother know where there was a good patch of shang, so one time when we have a week to spare, we start out one afternoon.

"Before we have go a half-mile from home, my brother think he forget something. He go back to get it, and I walk on alone. We intend to stay all night in old log shanty. It is pretty near dark when I get there. I wait for my brother. He don't come. I'm pretty hungry, so I eat my supper, and look around the house where I'm to stay all night. Well, Beely, there was no door on the house, but that don't scare me. I am used to the wood, and I don't think nothing going to hurt me. But before I lay down and before it get dark, I put everything we bring to eat up on some high place, so the mouse and the squirrel can't get it. Then I go to sleep."

"Oh, my, weren't you afraid, Antoine?"

"What I be afraid of, Beely? I have my gun close beside me. I ain't know what time it is when I wake up. It is dark, and I think I hear a noise outside the shanty. Then I hear something walk in. Oh, Beely, my hair stand on one end, I'm so scare when I hear something go 'sniff—sniff.' I'm so scare I don't dare get my gun, and my teeth go like this, Beely." Antoine tried to make Betty, Billy, and Aunt Florence realize how his teeth chattered, accompanying the performance by gestures that were funny enough.

"Well, Beely, in a moment more I hear something walk, and I know a big bear has come to see me."

"Why, Antoine, why didn't you shoot him?"

"Because, Beely, I'm too scare. I don't dare stir, and, Beely, I'm think good-bye, Antoine, for the big bear came and pokes me two time with his nose."

"Oh, sakes alive, Antoine."

"Well, Beely, it is the truth I tole you. After he give me two poke, the old bear walk around until he find my can of salmon. Then I hear him eating and tip over all my things. Then he walk around and around, and by and by he come and see me again."

"Oh, Antoine!"

"But, Beely, you just wait; I tole you one joke on the big bear. He knock my gun down; he go off biff-bang! At first I'm so scare I'm think I'm going to die. Then I laugh until I pretty near choke to dead, for I hear the big bear run off through the wood. And in the morning, Beely, I find his track,—great, big, black bear track."

"Tell me another, Antoine, please."

Antoine, giving Billy a wink, began again before Aunt Florence or Betty could say a word. "Now, Beely, you know the wood is full of some bear, and ole Antoine he like to go bear-hunting."

"Yes, go on, you went hunting, and what happened?"

"Hold on, Beely, I don't go hunting, I go fishing; that is, Beely, I start to go fishing, but before I go far I come across a bear track. I think I never see such a big bear track. It is big like this, Beely, so I say I will follow the track of the big bear, but first I will go and get my gun. Then I leave my fish-pole at home, and start out with my gun, and I am think I am kill the biggest bear you ever hear of. I'm follow that bear track for one, two, three, four mile. It's a fresh track, and I'm pretty sure I'm find the bear and shoot him. By and by I stand still and think what I'm going to do. The big bear she's gone into one thicket, and, if I went after it, I shall have to crawl in. I ain't like to do that. I'm a little scare."

"Well, I should think so. Go on, Antoine; of course, you did crawl in."

"Yes, Beely, I crawl in and I keep crawling. You see, I think after awhile I'm going to come out at a clearing. I don't much like to follow track of one big bear on a place where I can't stand, and by and by I hear a twig snap, and pretty soon I'm hear another. Then I'm so scare I keep still a minute. I think maybe I'm going straight to the big bear's house, and the big bear and his folks will eat me up. When I'm think that, I'm think I better get back to the road, I think I don't want to shoot that bear, after all. I'm change my mind and go back to the road just so quick as I can."

"And when you got there, what happened, Antoine?"

"Why, Beely, I go home."

"And you didn't even see the bear?"

"No, Beely, and when I'm in that thicket, I'm think I don't want to see him."

"Well, Antoine, maybe that's a track story, but I don't call it a bear story. Now, please tell me a good one 'bout narrow 'scapes. That's the kind I like."

"Well, Beely, one time when I'm a little boy, my ma send me after the cows. We have two cows then. Well, I'm just ready to start home with the cows, when she stand still a minute and look scare to dead. I stand up on a log, and I think what is the matter, and then I see a big bear stand up on his hind feet. I don't know how I do anything so quick, but in a second I jump up on one of those cow, and then they both give a snort and start down the road lickety-split."

"And did the bear chase you, Antoine?"

"I think so, Beely, I don't know. I ain't look back to see. I have all I can do to hang on my cow. It ain't easy riding, I tole you that."

"Oh, Antoine," remonstrated Billy, "I don't call that a bear story. I call it a cow story. Now, please, Antoine, tell me a good one. Please don't laugh; tell me a good, wild bear story, one of your narrow 'scapes. Tell me about the time you caught the little bear last summer. I like that story."

"Well, Beely, I ain't like to tell you that story pretty good, for every time I'm think on it I'm scare out of my wit yet."

"But, Antoine, the bears can't hurt you now; they are all dead."

"I know that, but I'm think they are going to hurt me that time. Well, it's just like this: I'm going on the swamp to look at some cedar I'm going to get out that winter. When I'm come to a little birch ridge on the swamp, well, I'm going to go across that ridge when I see two big bear and one little one lay down on front of me about twenty-five feet away. Well, I'm scare the bear, and the bear scare me. I'm come up there so quiet they ain't think I'm going to come at all; and I ain't think I'm going to see any bear there. I'm too scare to run away and I'm too scare to shoot. You know I'm got my gun with me. You know, Beely, I'm always got my gun and one little axe when I'm go through the wood.

"Well, I'm stand there behind one stump; I look on the bear and the bear look on me. The biggest one get up on his hind leg and she show his teeth and growl. I'm pretty scare, I'm tole you that, Beely, when I'm see her big teeth. But I'm make up my mind I'm got to shoot that bear right there, or Antoine don't see Beely no more. Well, I'm take a rest with my gun on the stump, and take a good aim and shoot. I'm hit that bear right on the head. She's fall right down on his back, and growl and kick little bit and die.

"Well, that scare the little bear, so she's climb up the tree. They got one more big bear there yet, and I ain't got no more bullet on my gun, and I ain't got time for load, so I'm climb one little tree pretty quick, just like one little red squirrel. But I'm take my gun along with me, so I can load it up there, you know.

"Well, the bear she's come for me, but I'm load my gun pretty quick. When the bear she get ready for climb the tree, I'm shoot it, but I ain't hit it pretty good, and I ain't kill it that time, because just the same time I'm shoot, the limb what I'm stand on break, and I'm fall on the ground. I fall right close by the bear. I ain't hurt me very much, because I ain't fall pretty far, but I'm jump up like a rabbit and I'm grab my little axe, what I'm got on my belt, just the same time the bear she jump for me.

"I'm hurt the bear pretty much when I'm shoot the first time, so she can't jump quick like me. When the bear she's jump on me, I'm jump behind one stump and hit him on the head with my axe. But I ain't kill it first time.

"I'm run around the stump, and ever time I'm get a chance I'm hit that bear with my axe, and by and by I'm hit it on the nose and kill the bear that time. You know, Beely, it's pretty easy to kill a bear when you hit him right on the nose.

"Well, Beely, I'm pretty glad I'm kill that bear, but I'm so scare I sit on that stump and shake and shake and shake just like as if I have the ague. By and by I'm feel a little better, and I think I'm going to catch that little bear what's up on the tree, so I'm cut down the tree and catch the bear; and I'm take off my belt and tie it around his neck and fetch it home. Then I go back there and skin the two bear, because the bear she's nice and fat and pretty good to eat that time.

"I have that little bear yet, and he do lots of trick. Pretty smart little fellow, pretty ugly, I tole you that. I'm call him Beely after my little friend."

"Oh, let's show him to Aunt Florence," suggested Billy, but Aunt Florence, for some reason, insisted upon going home.

"No use for me to try to say anything to him," she remarked to Betty, as they walked along the bay shore. "I'll give up. I should think that man would be ashamed when he remembers that little suit I gave 'Phonse."

"But that's the queer thing about him, auntie," Betty explained; "he never remembers anything he wants to forget. I like him, though."

"So do I, far as that goes," agreed Aunt Florence, "but I more than like that poor little Samone."