“mamma! mamma!” called little beckie stubtail, the bear girl, as she awoke in the morning. “oh, mamma, is breakfast ready?”
“hush!” exclaimed neddie, the little boy bear, as he reached over with his paw and patted his sister beckie. “mamma isn’t here, beckie.”
“oh, that’s so; she isn’t,” and beckie sat up in her bed of leaves under a tree out in the open air. neddie was sleeping next to her, and on the other side was george, the tame trained bear, and professor, the man who made george do tricks, and who blew tunes on a brass horn.
“oh, dear!” cried beckie. “i thought, for a minute, just for a minute, neddie, you know, that we were back home again with mamma, and papa and aunt piffy and uncle wigwag and mr. whitewash, the polar bear, and all our friends. but we’re not; are we?”
“no,” answered neddie, stretching out in the dried leaves, so that they rustled like corn husks. 74“we’re not home, beckie. we ran away, you know, to become trained bears, and earn money the way jackie and peetie bow wow, the puppy dog boys, did when they joined the circus.”
“only they didn’t,” said beckie, looking to see if her rubber doll, maryann puddingstick clothespin, was still asleep.
“they didn’t what?” asked neddie.
“they didn’t earn any money. and maybe we won’t.”
“oh, yes, we will,” said neddie. “you see we know how to do the trick of climbing the telegraph pole, and i can take a basket of eggs, and fall down, and break almost every one.”
“yes,” laughed beckie, “but that’s a trick the professor doesn’t want you to do. eggs cost too much!” and she laughed again, as she thought of the fat lady whose basket of eggs neddie had tried to carry, when he slipped on a banana skin and went down ker-thump! as i told you in another story.
“well, anyhow, we’ll learn some real tricks, and soon we’ll get money,” spoke neddie. he and his sister, you know, had run away from their house in the nice cave to join george, the tame bear, with a ring in his nose, and the professor who made george do tricks.
“i wonder what we’ll have for breakfast to-day?” 75asked beckie, as she saw george, the big bear, stretching himself.
“i hope it’s something good,” spoke neddie, as he saw the professor getting up. “i’m tired of dried bread; and that’s all we’ve had so far.”
“yes; we haven’t had any of the nice buns and the popcorn balls that george told us about that day he met us in the woods,” went on beckie.
“come to breakfast, beckie and neddie,” called the professor, for he could speak and understand bear language. and he took some dried bread out of his bag.
“oh, dear!” exclaimed beckie.
“dear, oh!” cried neddie.
“never mind,” said the professor, “to-morrow will be thanksgiving and i’m sure something will happen between now and then so that we shall all have a fine dinner. we will start off soon, and see if we can find our fortunes as uncle wiggily, the rabbit gentleman, did his. come on!”
so the little bear children, and george, the trained bear, and the professor ate their breakfast of dried bread, and drank some water from a spring. and then they traveled on again.
sometimes they would come to a little village, or town, and there the professor would blow his 76brass horn. all the boys and girls, and some of the older people, would gather about in a circle. then george, the big bear, would do his tricks, marching like a soldier, turning somersaults, waltzing, climbing a tree or making believe wrestle with the professor.
“and the little bears can do tricks, too,” said the professor to the people. “come, beckie—neddie, climb a pole for the audience!”
then the little stubtail bears would stick their claws into a smooth telegraph pole, and up they would go to the very tip-top.
then you should have heard the children laugh and shout, and clap their hands. the big people would put pennies in the hat of the professor, and some of the children would run in their houses and get slices of bread, or maybe an apple or something else good to eat to give to the bears. for george, the big fellow, as well as beckie and neddie were kind, gentle and tame bears, you know. they would hurt no one.
but when it came night they had gotten nothing like a thanksgiving dinner, nor did they have any invitation to eat one with friends, either.
“i—i wish we were home,” said beckie, and some tears came into her eyes. the tears didn’t quite fall out, but almost.
“well, wait until to-morrow,” suggested 77neddie. “something may happen then, and it isn’t thanksgiving until to-morrow, you know.”
well, the next day came. it was thanksgiving, and still there was no sign of a fine, big dinner for the bears or the professor. they had slept that night in the woods, the professor cuddling up close to big george to keep warm in the bear’s thick fur. and though they had some cookies and cakes and apples to eat, it was far from being what beckie or neddie would have had, had they not run away from their cave-house.
“we’ll travel on,” said the professor, “and see what happens.”
well, they had not gone very far, before all of a sudden they saw a man running through the woods. and right after him came a big lion, roaring as loudly as he could roar. and the lion was switching his tail from side to side, and every now and then, reaching out his claws to grab the man.
“oh, save me! save me!” cried the man.
“bur-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r!” roared the lion.
“oh, can’t you help the poor man?” asked beckie, of george, the big bear.
“i’ll try,” said george. then he ran after the lion, and with the long pole which the professor 78let george carry as a soldier-gun, george tripped up the roaring lion beast. just then the professor blew a loud blast on his brass horn, and beckie and neddie threw a lot of oak tree acorns at the lion. all this frightened the lion very much, especially when he felt the acorns hitting him. he thought they were bullets, and he thought the noise of the brass horn meant that a lot of soldiers were coming after him.
so away ran the lion through the woods, and the man was safe. oh, how thankful he was!
“you saved my life,” he said to the professor, and to neddie and beckie and george. “what can i do for you? where are you going?”
“we are looking for a thanksgiving dinner,” said the professor, “but we have not found it yet.”
“ha! say no more!” cried the man, quickly. “come with me! i will give you the best thanksgiving dinner you ever ate!”
“who are you?” asked beckie.
“i am a circus man,” answered the one the lion had chased. “but we do not give shows in winter. i have all my animals in a big barn, not far away. this morning that lion would not bring in a pail of milk when i asked him to, and to punish him i said he could have no dinner. so he chased me, and i don’t know what he would 79have done had he caught me. but you saved me, the lion has run away, and i suppose a policeman monkey will catch him. but you—come to my animal barn and you may have the dinner i was going to give the lion, as well as all you can eat besides. come on!”
“oh, at last we are to have a thanksgiving dinner!” cried neddie. “oh, joy!” and beckie clapped her paws.
then the professor and beckie and neddie and george, the big bear, followed the circus man. he led them to a big barn in the woods. and, oh! all the animals that were there—elephants and tigers and good lions, and zebras and more bears and lots of monkeys, and giraffes with necks so long that they could pick an orange off a church steeple, and cunning little ponies, and a hippopotamus with a mouth like a red flannel bag—and hundreds of others.
“welcome to our thanksgiving dinner!” all the animals cried to beckie and neddie when they saw the stubtail children. “eat all you want!”
and such a dinner as it was! from cranberry sauce to popcorn balls and honey cakes and blueberry pie and chestnuts and cider—and, oh, dear! i mustn’t write any more about it or i’ll get the indigspepsia. anyhow it was a grand dinner, 80and in the middle of it who should come back but the bad lion who had chased the circus man.
“i’m—i’m sorry i was bad,” roared the lion. “may i have a piece of pie?” then the circus man forgave him, and the lion had a good dinner. and beckie and neddie stayed in the circus barn all night, feeling quite happy.
and i hope you have a good dinner on thanksgiving—each and every one of you. but don’t eat too much. then on the page after this, if the fishman doesn’t blow his horn in the phonograph and scare the player-piano, i’ll tell you about neddie and the elephant.
