wongo had gone only a short distance, following kaw towards cho-gay’s cave, when he heard a voice coming from a little clearing ahead of him and recognized it to be the voice of old grayhead, an ancient grizzly who had lived long in timbertangle and had known wongo’s father. the old bear was possessed with the idea that he was chief of the animals of the region and never tired of telling how he won his position, much to the weariness of his hearers, who had secretly nicknamed him “old waggle-jaw,” but who never dared mention the name to his face. for, though he was old, grayhead was still easily the biggest and strongest bear in timbertangle, and none would care to invite a swing from one of his mighty paws. so his tales had to be listened to with grave faces, but once behind his back his listeners would laugh at him and mock him and the name of “waggle-jaw” was freely used.
wongo felt too lazy to walk around the clearing and thus avoid meeting old grayhead, so he went[145] straight on, much to his regret a few minutes later. he walked into the clearing, looking neither to right nor left, and attempted to cross it without being stopped, but he reckoned without grayhead.
the old bear looked up with a grunt of satisfaction and spoke to a group seated about him: “here is one who knows that i tell the truth, for his father was there. wongo, i was just about to tell these friends here of the act of daring and courage[146] that made me chief of timbertangle.”
wongo gave an inward groan and cast his eyes in the direction in which kaw had flown. he thought he could see him far away, flitting among the trees.
“i can’t stop now,” he said hurriedly. “some other time—”
old grayhead caught him by the leg and pulled him down toward him.
“not so fast, my young friend,” he said. “who has a better right to your time than i—your chief? come, it will not take long. i just want you as witness to the truth of what i say.”
a far-off voice came back through the trees:
“come on, come on, slow poke!”
“i can’t!” shouted wongo. forgetting himself in his anger at being detained, he called out, “it’s ‘waggle-jaw!’”
old grayhead looked at him and frowned deeply.
“what do you mean by shouting at me in that way? and who or what is ‘waggle-jaw’?” he had evidently not heard the call of the crow, and the other animals (two bears and a gray wolf) looked startled and exchanged strange glances. wongo was startled, too, and frightened at what he had said in his annoyance. he longed to escape but saw no immediate chance, as old grayhead[147] held him tight by the leg awaiting his explanation of the name “waggle-jaw.”
“it’s—it’s—it’s an animal—” stammered the little bear, and a snicker passed between the two bears and the wolf, and he heard an echo of it from a near-by tree and knew that kaw had returned to discover the cause of his delay.
“an animal?” repeated grayhead. “called ‘waggle-jaw’? i never heard of it. it can’t be in timbertangle.”
“yes,” said wongo, picking up courage, “that’s where i was going now. it’s a queer animal, and i was going to hunt it.”
“humm-m,” said grayhead. “what kind of an animal? does it look good to eat?”
the bears and wolf gave a queer, smothered yell at this and grayhead looked up with a threatening frown.
“silence, there! have more respect for your elders. if there is an animal in this forest that can be hunted down and eaten, it is for me, your chief, to do it. but tell me where it was that you last saw this—this—‘wabble-jaw,’ wongo. we will all go and find him.”
wongo wriggled uneasily and cast an imploring glance up at the tree where kaw sat smoothing his feathers. he was in a trap and he looked[148] hopefully to his friend to get him out, as he usually did, but kaw made no sign.
“he—he—wasn’t far from here—” began the little bear uncertainly, when to his great relief and joy kaw broke in, clearing his throat several times to gain the attention of the group below him, and addressing himself particularly to grayhead—
“i believe,” he began, with a little cough, “that i know more about this ‘waggle-jaw’ than anyone else, and, er—with your kind permission i’ll tell you about him—especially as our friend wongo seems to be a little short of breath.”
grayhead nodded shortly and kaw went on:
“now, ‘waggle-jaw’ lives fairly near here—that is, at times. then again he lives quite far away, for he isn’t always at each place—as is the way with most of us. as to how he looks—w-e-l-l—” kaw began to drawl in a comical way, and a quick giggle broke from the other animals, as kaw dropped into verse:
“when once you’ve seen him face to face,
you’ll know him without doubt,
for on his head there’s not a trace,
when he is turned about,
of any hair—except what’s there—
nor on his back a spot,
of fur or skin that’s dark or fair,
[149]
except where there is not.
and he’s a fearful creature, too,
as you will surely find.
for he can bite a tree in two
with only half a mind.
the other half—so i am told—
he uses as a paw,
when enemies get overbold,
to club them in the jaw.”
“now, the reason he is in this neighborhood,” continued kaw slowly, “is that he has heard that you want to meet him and then, too, he is very fond of bear meat and this is his hungry time of year. i saw him as i passed a little while ago and, thinking to do you a favor, i told him that you were many miles from here—on the other side of the divide, in fact—and he was headed that way when i left him. s-o-o,” drawled the old crow, in finishing his tale, “he isn’t likely to make you a call to-day!” he looked rather self-conscious, as he ceased speaking, and sat back on his limb with an attempt at dignity as he waited for grayhead to speak. that old bear was too much confused to say anything. he did not know what to think. he felt as if he should thank kaw for saving his life, and yet he did not feel just certain about anything. he looked at the other bears, but they would not meet his eye, as they were quivering[150] with concealed mirth. all of them, however, felt it wise to keep silent.
before grayhead could collect his puzzled thoughts enough to speak, kaw began again:
“i thought, as i came near, that i heard you telling of how you became chief of timbertangle.” that was a safe thing to say, as it was seldom that grayhead spoke of anything else. “how well i remember hearing wongo’s father, old silvertip, tell of that wonderful time and of your heroic actions.”
old grayhead held his head high and looked, with an “i told you so” air, at his companions.
“and i nearly laughed myself sick,” continued kaw, “at the picture he drew of the animals scrambling up the sides of the canyon as you held the great bowlder against the flood waters that were pouring through the gap. it makes me laugh now to think of it! haw, haw, haw!” and the other animals, including wongo, joined with a whoop in his merriment, letting out all the mirth that had been filling them for the last half hour, in shouts of joy, rolling on the ground and clawing at the dry leaves until the tears ran from their eyes and the near-by hills echoed to their shouts. grayhead joined in, rather feebly at first, but finally he laughed with all the vim of the others, not realizing[151] that they were laughing at him and not with him.
when the wave of merriment had quieted down a little, kaw spoke again: “that is the finest tale in timbertangle. that reminds me, as i passed the cave of the two cinnamon bears a short while ago i heard them speaking about it. i think you have never told it to them and they were wishing they could hear it first-hand.” kaw almost choked on the last words, but he got them out.
[152]grayhead rose immediately: “the cinnamon bears, you say? i’ll go now. i have nothing particular to do,” and he was ambling off through the timber almost before the words were out of his mouth. as soon as grayhead was beyond earshot the laughter began anew and kaw almost rolled off his perch in glee. but suddenly recollecting his business of the morning, he attracted wongo’s attention.
“come, we’ve lost a lot of time. let’s go,” he called, and the two set off as if they had had no interruption to their journey.
