Buster remained three whole days in the camp with the two men who had saved him from Loup the Lynx, and during that time he learned many things that his mother had never taught him. For one thing he learned manners.

One day he stuck his nose in the pot of soup on the table and began licking it up until a hand grasped him by the neck, and jerked him back. “Buster, you’ve got to learn your manners, and the time to begin is when you’re young,” said the man who held him. “Now I must punish you so you’ll never stick your nose in the soup again without remembering it.”

With that two sharp blows from a small stick landed on Buster’s nose. He yelped with pain, and tried to run away, but his captor held him. “The next time you will get three blows instead of two,” he added gravely. Buster never repeated the offence.

For another thing he learned it paid to be obliging. When the men asked him to jump over a stick or dance on his hind legs, he received a double lump of sugar if he promptly obeyed. A little extra dance, or a new kind of trick, always brought something to reward him. Buster was shrewd enough to connect the two together—the trick and the reward.

But there was one thing he hadn’t learned, and it got him in trouble again just as it did that day when he disobeyed his mother in leaving the cave when she was away. The men had to go away for a few hours, and they shut Buster up in the cabin, with the remark:

“You stay in here, Buster, and watch the camp. We’ll be back soon.”

“Better close that window, Jim,” remarked the other. “He might climb up to it and get out.”

“No, it will be too hot in here. Besides, I think we can trust Buster. He won’t try to get out.”

Of course, when they left Buster had no intention of disobeying. He was satisfied to curl up in a corner of the cabin and sleep until they returned; but they were gone for a long time, and late in the afternoon he got very restless.

“I’ll climb up there and look out,” he said to himself, glancing up at the window. “They didn’t tell me not to do that.”

To reach the window he had to climb up on the stout table, and jump from that to the broad window-sill. This feat wasn’t so difficult, for Buster had learned to use his claws with great skill in climbing. The jump to the window-sill was a short one, but he nearly missed it, and had to scramble desperately to prevent a fall.

Once on the window-sill, however, he was well repaid for his trouble. It was a beautiful day outside, and the woods smelt so sweet and attractive that Buster felt a strange longing to get out there and roll around among the leaves. But he wasn’t going to do it. No, he remembered the words of his captors, and while he had made no promise he intended to obey them.

Just the same when Groundy the Woodchuck came along and cast a long shadow in front of the window, Buster leaned so far out that he nearly lost his balance. Groundy glanced up, and at first was startled and ready to run; but when he saw that Buster was no more than a cub, only a little larger than himself, he stopped and spoke to him.

“What are you doing up there?” he asked. “You don’t live in that house, do you? If you don’t look out the owners will come along and catch you.”

“They’ve caught me already,” replied Buster. “That’s why I’m here, Groundy.”

“Oh, then you’re a prisoner!” sighed Groundy. “I’m sorry for you. Are you tied by a chain?”

“Indeed, I’m not! They don’t chain me up. I’m not a prisoner, either.”

Groundy looked at him in silence, not quite able to understand. Buster was grinning at him as if he enjoyed his perplexity. Finally, Groundy said:

“I can’t believe you, Buster. But there’s one way to show me. If you’re not a prisoner, tied by a chain, climb down here. Then I’ll believe you.”

“I can’t—” began Buster, and then stopped. Of course, if he said that Groundy would go away convinced that he was actually chained inside the window.

“I thought so,” nodded Groundy. “Well, I’m sorry for you. I must be going now.”

“Wait a minute!” called Buster. “I’ll climb down just to show you, but I can’t stay.”

It really wouldn’t do any harm, he thought, to climb down and right back again to show Groundy that he was free. He would do it so quickly that he would be back in the cabin again before any one saw him. Groundy was waiting for him, and Buster couldn’t disappoint him now.

He dropped easily to the ground under the window, and cried: “How was that for a jump, Groundy! You couldn’t do better, could you?”

“No, but the thing that puzzles me is, how are you going to get back again? Anybody can jump down a hill, but not many can jump up it. Can you jump back to the window-sill?”

Buster had not given much thought to this. He looked up, and the window was so high above his head he knew that he could never jump half the way.

“I don’t know,” he stammered. “But maybe I can climb back. I’ve got good claws, and I can climb a tree.”

“That may be, Buster, but you can’t climb the side of a house,” replied Groundy. “If you can I’ll watch you.”

Groundy squatted down, and Buster anxious to show how well he could climb started to go up the side of the house; but a bear hugs a tree when climbing it, and Buster couldn’t get his paws around the cabin any more than he could fly to the moon. He made several attempts to dig his claws in the logs to pull himself up, but each time he tumbled back to the ground before he could reach half way. But he wasn’t going to give up trying right away, and again and again he made the attempt until completely exhausted.

“You can’t do it, Buster,” remarked Groundy finally, rising to his feet. “I knew you couldn’t. It’s easier to roll down a hill than roll up it.”

Buster was greatly disappointed, and he looked around to find something that he could roll under the window and climb up that way; but a noise in the woods suddenly startled Groundy.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered. “I must be going. Better come with me, Buster.”

“No,” was the reply. “I live here now, and I won’t run away just because I disobeyed and got in trouble.”

Perhaps it would have been better for him had he accepted Groundy’s invitation; but he didn’t know that, and it was to his credit that he stayed. He knew that he had done wrong in climbing out of the window, but two wrongs don’t make a right, and Buster decided that he would face his masters and let them punish him if they wanted to.But he received a severe shock the next minute. A stranger appeared around the side of the cabin, and another on the other side. They were not pleasant looking. They were very unlike the two men who had rescued him from the river.

“Head him off!” shouted one. “Don’t let him get away!”

Buster was too surprised and frightened to run, and before he knew it he was caught by four stout arms and something thick and blinding was thrown over his head. He grunted and squealed, but nobody seemed to hear him. He was picked up and carried swiftly away in the woods and for a long time he was jounced and pounded about in a thick blanket that completely covered him.

When he finally got a peek of daylight again, he was in a strange place, with two evil-looking faces bending over him. In the next story you will hear about Buster’s new masters.