Followers of the Trail | Page 7

stopping every few steps to look
back and voice his opinion of the intruder; but, by the time he had
joined his master, the bear had slipped into the forest.
Late that same afternoon, as Mokwa stood at the top of a small hill, a
bright glitter from a grove of straight, smooth trees below, caught his
eye. The glitter was alluring and, with no thought save to gratify his
curiosity, the bear shambled quickly down the slope and brought up
before a tree on the trunk of which hung a small, shining bucket. The
sunlight reflected from the tin dazzled his little eyes, while to his ears
came a curious, musical "plop, plop."
Without even taking the precaution to glance around him, Mokwa
reared upon his haunches and examined the pail into which a clear fluid
splashed, drop by drop, from a little trough inserted in the tree. A faint
but delectable odour drifted to the sniffing black nose of the bear. It
was Mokwa's first experience with maple sap and he proceeded to
make the most of it.
Though unable to reach the liquid, owing to the smallness of the pail,
he could easily lick the spile which conveyed the sap from the tree, and
this Mokwa did with evident relish. His tongue sought out every
crevice and even greedily lapped the tree about the gash; then, growing

impatient at the slowness with which the wonderful fluid appeared, he
turned his attention to the pail. Mokwa wished, no doubt, that several
inches might have been added to the length of his tongue, but, though
that useful member failed him, necessity found a way. He soon
discovered that it was possible to dip in one paw from which the
sweetness could easily be licked. However, the pressure of his other
paw upon the rim of the pail caused it to tip, and sliding from the spile,
it rolled upon the ground.
The accident did not dismay the bear. On the contrary it filled him with
joy, for it served to bring the contents of the pail within reach, and he
lapped up every drop before it could soak into the earth. The pail, too,
was cleansed of sap as far as the eager tongue could reach, though,
during the process, it rolled about in a way which sorely tried the bear's
patience. At length it came to rest against the trunk of a tree, with
which solid backing Mokwa was enabled to thrust in his muzzle far
enough to lap up the last sweet drops.
But alas! when he attempted to withdraw his head, Mokwa found
himself a prisoner. With the pressure against the tree the sap-bucket
had become wedged so tightly upon his head that it refused to come off.
Though the bear twisted and turned, banging the tin upon the ground
and against trunks of trees, the endeavor to rid himself of this
uncomfortable and unwelcome headdress was in vain. Mokwa grew
more and more frantic and the din was so terrific that a horrified
cottontail, with eyes bulging until they seemed in danger of rolling
down his nose, sat frozen in his tracks at the edge of a spruce thicket.
The Hermit, on his way to inspect his sap-buckets, broke into a run.
Mokwa, in his mad scramble, had paused a moment for breath. He
heard the man's footfalls and the sound filled him with fresh alarm.
With a last despairing effort he rose upon his haunches and tugged at
the battered pail. This time his efforts were rewarded. A peculiar twist
sent it flying, and the bear, free at last, made quick time to the friendly
shelter of the spruce thicket, sped by the loud laughter of the Hermit.
"Guess that bear will never bother my sap-buckets again," the man
chuckled, as he picked up his bright new pail, battered now past all

recognition.
On the day following his harrowing experience in the sugar-maple
grove Mokwa was a much chastened bear, but the incident soon faded
from his memory and he once more trod the forest trails as if they had
been presented to him for his sole use by Dame Nature herself. In the
swamp the pointed hoods of skunk cabbage were appearing, the heat
generated by their growth producing an open place in the snow about
them. The odour from which the name is derived was not at all
offensive to the bear who eagerly devoured many of the plants, varying
the diet with roots and small twigs swelling with sap.
In the damp hollows the coarse grass was turning green, and before
long the swamps were noisy with the shrill voice of the hylas, while the
streams once more teemed with fish.
As the season advanced Mokwa grew fat and contented, exerting
himself only