II. THE SPRINGS AND THE MINER'S DAM
Jack and Jill, the hunter named the cubs; and Jill, the little fury,
did nothing to change his early impression of her bad temper. When at
food-time the man came she would get as far as possible up the post
and growl, or else sit in sulky fear and silence; Jack would scramble
down and strain at his chain to meet his captor, whining softly, and
gobbling his food at once with the greatest of gusto and the worst of
manners. He had many odd ways of his own, and he was a lasting rebuke
to those who say an animal has no sense of humor. In a month he had
grown so tame that he was allowed to run free. He followed his master
like a dog, and his tricks and funny doings were a continual delight
to Kellyan and the few friends he had in the mountains.
On the creek-bottom below the shack was a meadow where Lan cut enough
hay each year to feed his two ponies through the winter. This year
when hay-time came Jack was his daily companion, either following him
about in dangerous nearness to the snorting scythe, or curling up an
hour at a time on his coat to guard it assiduously from such
aggressive monsters as Ground Squirrels and Chipmunks. An interesting
variation of the day came about whenever the mower found a bumblebees'
nest. Jack loved honey, of course, and knew quite well what a bees'
nest was, so the call, "Honey--Jacky--honey!" never failed to bring
him in waddling haste to the spot.
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