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Now, Cuffy thought it would be great fun to go down into the valley and find out for himself if the ice really did go out. He had an idea that it caused a terrific splitting and crashing and thundering noise and he thought that perhaps some fish would be tossed up on the bank and then he would have a good lunch. When Mr.
He had crept up behind his mother and had been looking at the strange sight for some time. "They're going over to the lake, on the other side of the mountain," Mrs. Bear said. "Are they going fishing?" Cuffy inquired. Mrs. Bear shook her head. And then Cuffy squeezed past her and saw what was happening. "Oh-h, hurrah! hurrah!" he shouted. His mother looked at him in astonishment.
He evidently kept his gun and ammunition in this out-building, for he had a powder-horn and shot-bag suspended from his shoulders. "What are you going to do with that gun, Cuffy?" asked Deck, who was rather astonished to see him armed. "I's gwine to shoot one of dose men if dey try to kill me, as dey done sworn dey would," replied the ferryman.
And the other little bear nodded his head. Then Cuffy tried something else. He stared very hard at the little bear opposite him, and called "Hello!" "Hello, yerself!" the other little bear said. And then Cuffy knew that it was a real, live boy-bear over there, and not just a reflection of himself.
During part of the time he became delirious, and raved about home and sea-life and old companions in a way that evidently quite alarmed Cuffy, for that sagacious terrier approached his master with caution, with his tail between his legs, and a pitiful, earnest gaze, that was quite touching.
Cuffy Bear found many good things in Farmer Green's lunch basket. He bolted all the bread-and-butter, and the doughnuts; and he found the custard pie to be about as enjoyable as any dainty he had ever tasted. And then, with his little black face all smeared with streaks of yellow custard, Cuffy began to poke a small iron pot which stood in one corner of the big basket.
Cuffy looked at them as well as he could with his one good eye. "And you're covered with mud!" his mother added severely. "What's the matter with your eye?" she demanded. "I've been having fun " Cuffy began. "I've been boxing " "Fun! Boxing! You've ruined your best trousers," she said. "You're a naughty little bear and you're going straight to bed. Who has been playing with you?" she asked. Mrs.
No race has ever shown such infinite and rich capabilities of adaptation to varying soil and circumstances as the negro. Alike to them the snows of Canada, the hard, rocky land of New England, with its set lines and orderly ways, or the gorgeous profusion and loose abundance of the Southern States. Sambo and Cuffy expand under them all.
All the rest of the afternoon poor Cuffy had to stay there in the water. For the bees did not leave him until sundown. And then, when the last one had gone, Cuffy crawled out of the brook and started toward home. His little round body and his sturdy little legs were not warm now, as they had been when he sat down beneath the tree to get cool.
He did so without much hope, for "hope deferred" had at last made his heart sick. Suddenly his wandering gaze became fixed and intense. He shaded his eyes with one hand, and steadied himself against the mast with the other. There could be no doubt of it! "Land ho!" he shouted, with a degree of strength that surprised himself, and even drew from Cuffy the ghost of a bark.
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