moreover, Teddy Bear's temper was now thoroughly aroused. Most cubs,
and some older bears, would have relinquished the adventure at this
point, for, as a rule, it takes a wise old bear to handle a bee tree
successfully. But Teddy Bear was no ordinary cub, let me tell you. He
lay nursing his anger and his nose till he had made up his mind what to
do. And then he set out to do it.

"Hauling himself up softly from branch to branch, he made no more noise
than a shadow. As soon as he was right behind the bees' hole he
reached around, dug his claws into the edge of it, and pulled with all
his might. The edges were rotten, and a pawful of old wood came. So
did the bees!

"They were onto him in a second. He grunted furiously, screwed his
eyes up tight, tucked his muzzle down under his left arm--which was
busy holding on--and reached around blindly for another pull. This
time he got a good grip, and he could feel something give. But the
fiery torture was too much for him. He drew in his paw, crouched back
into the crotch, and cuffed wildly at his own ears and face as well as
at the air, now thick with his assailants. The terrific hum they made
somewhat daunted him. For a few seconds he stood his ground, battling
frantically. Then, with an agility that you would never have dreamed
his chubby form to be capable of, he went swinging down from branch to
branch, whining and coughing and spluttering and squealing all the way.
From the lowest branch he slid down the trunk, his claws tearing the
bark and just clinging enough to break his fall.

"Reaching the ground, he began to roll himself over and over in the dry
leaves and twigs till he had crushed out all the bees that clung in his
fur."