CHAPTER VII

But there were many evenings after that when little Timmy Whoof did miss his mother a good deal and cry for her sadly. Shepherd Timothy was very kind to him. He did not play a candle game with him every night, for fear that his paws which had a very thick skin under their baby fur, should be singed so often that they would get sore.

But there was no game which the small bear cub really enjoyed so much as boxing those flame soldiers, meaning the candle flames, and putting them out.

Unless it was a very, very still night, the wind helped him as it played upon the hillside. Then Timmy Whoof felt that the big wind and he were chums as, indeed, they would be when he grew older, for the wind, always friendly to wild animals, would bring him warning of many things that it might be well for him to avoid.

But he wasn't a big bear yet, for all that he felt himself one when he played at killing the naughty stars, which weren't naughty at all, only useful candle flames, which twinkled at him, sometimes, on a still night, from the four corners of the little corral, or square enclosure, where he lived.

Glen and Watch, the two sheep-dogs, grew quite friendly to him as time went on. At least, they didn't growl at him any more, telling him that they had played tag with his mother all over the wide plain and what a funny-looking thing she was in a white, floury mask, after she had put her head in a flour-bag and kept it there, nosing round.

All the same, little Timmy Bear-cub was lonely in his square corral, or open-air cage.

At night, especially, he missed his mother. Then he set up such an "Oo-oo-ooo-o! Ma-oo-ow-w! Boo-oo-ooitt! Whoof!" crying, sitting up, kitten-like, in his corral, that he woke the sheep and lambs upon the hillside, who "baaed" back at him, asking him if he didn't know enough to keep still and let woolly folk sleep.

Worse, still, he woke the two shepherd men. And one of them got very cross at being disturbed when he was lying down comfortably on the hillside, wrapped in his blankets, sound asleep, near a warm camp-fire.

He was the older of the two shepherds, not the Timothy man with the fat legs who had carried the flour-bag and who had felt so sorry for the two little lonely bear cubs that he had gone out to find them in the hollow of the tree and brought one of them--Timmy--home and named him after himself.

The other shepherd, the older one, who didn't like being waked at night, was not so kind-hearted as Man Timothy. And on the second night that the lonely little bear cub whined so sadly for his mother that he woke everybody, sheep, dogs, and all, this shepherd got up from where he was lying out-of-doors upon the hillside, in a great rage.

"Now, I'm going to teach that troublesome bear cub a lesson!" he said. "No matter how lonely he is, he's not going to make a noise like that at night in our camp! Fee! Fo! Fum! I'm going to give him a whipping that he'll remember!" And he went and found, by the light of the rosy ring of lanterns on the hillside, a long, strong whip which he cracked sometimes above the backs of the sheep, when he was driving them together, just to frighten them.

O poor little Timmy Whoof! It would have hurt terribly, in spite of his thick bearskin, if he had been beaten with that whip.

But his friend, Shepherd Timothy, was awake, too, and he got to the square corral before the older shepherd with the whip in his hand.

And Timothy picked the lonely bear cub right up in his strong arms, for they had become such good friends by this time that the cub wouldn't think of scratching him, and he said:

"No, you mustn't whip and hurt this poor little bear, just because he's so lonely, at night, and cries for his mother! I'll take him over and tie him to a tree near the spot where I'm sleeping on the ground, so that he'll feel he has a friend by him. And I'll heat some sheep's milk and give it to him; then, maybe, he won't cry any more!"

And night after night Man Timothy did this, because, as I told you, he was one who loved God, who knew that God was Love, and who tried to reflect that divine Love in his own heart and in his life.

He and his little namesake, Timmy Whoof, the tame bear cub, became so fond of each other that, at the end of two weeks, when Shepherd Timothy had to go a long journey on foot to a city on some business about the sheep, he determined to take the cub with him, for fear that little Timmy Whoof might get whipped during his absence.

"There are some little boys and girls, nephews and nieces of mine, in the city, who would like very much to have a little bear cub for a pet," he said. "I guess I'll give Timmy to them and they can keep him until he grows to be a big bear; then they'll have to let him go free, to run wild in the woods again."

So he put Timmy Whoof into a strong bag, with some air-holes in it, for that was the easiest way of carrying him, and set out to walk a distance of sixteen miles.

Quite a long distance for a man whose legs had grown very fat from lying on a hillside, watching sheep, as Shepherd Timothy had done; and who, besides, carried a fat bear cub in a bag; don't you think so?

Timothy thought it was, and he determined to break the journey by walking eight miles one day and then sleeping out-of-doors in the wild country for the night, finishing his journey the next morning.

Now, during the week before he had started for the city there had been, at times, very heavy rains, so that when it came to evening time on the first day, after walking his eight miles, he found it hard to find any spot that was dry enough to camp out on, where he could build a camp-fire, cook his supper, spread his blankets, and go to sleep.

At last, he picked out a place just at the foot of a high mountain, where the grass and bushes weren't very wet.

There, he let Timmy Whoof out of the bag and he tied the little bear cub to a tree, so that he might not wander away during the night.

He petted him, too, a little, did Shepherd Timothy, and gave him some sheep's milk to drink, which he had brought with him.

Oh! how glad was Timmy to get out of the bag. He sat up under the tree, like a kitten or a puppy-dog, and blinked and looked about him at the strange, wild country all around, and at the high mountain that rose above him, growling a merry little "Whoof! Whoof!" as much as to say: "This strange place suits me and I love Shepherd Timothy!"

Then he rubbed himself against Man Timothy's fat legs, while the latter prepared his own supper.

And they two were all alone on this strange spot at the mountain's foot, far from the hill of the sheep and the lights, without another person in sight--or another bear, either!

"Now, Timmy Whoof! I do hope you'll be a good little bear cub, not whine and cry and make a fuss an' keep me awake to-night, for I'm tired after walking eight or nine miles and carrying you," said Timothy, the shepherd, when he had eaten his supper and was getting ready to lie down for the night upon some pine boughs, beside the fire which he had built. "Eight miles is quite a distance for a fat man to go on foot, when he is carrying a bear cub as fat as himself," laughed Timothy.

But, lo and behold! he hadn't been more than an hour asleep, lying near his camp-fire on this damp, wild spot at the foot of a mountain, when he was waked by hearing little Timmy Bear-cub whining as if he were the loneliest little cub in all the wide world and had no man to take care of him.

"O fie! Timmy; now you've got to let me get some sleep!" said the kind shepherd, and he rolled over on his fat side upon the pine boughs, trying to doze again.

"Whoof! Oo-oo-ooo-oo-oo!" whined Timmy, only crying more loudly and straining--straining like mad--with all the strength in his little fat cub's body, at the rope which tied him to a tree, as if he wanted to run away from something.

I don't know, Children, but that the wind which had often helped him to put out the candles in his candle game, may have been whispering down the mountain to him now, telling him of danger on that mountainside--danger to him and to Man Timothy, too.

It may be that, although he was only a small bear cub, his sharp little nose of a wild bear smelt that danger, that his quick little ears, while he lay awake, crying for his mother, caught a big, swelling, rolling noise which tired Shepherd Timothy, fast asleep, did not hear.

At all events, Timmy Whoof, the bear cub, kept on whining and growling and pulling on the rope with which he was tied until Man Timothy just had to sit up and attend to him.

The sleepy shepherd rubbed his eyes and yawned and felt that if he had ever whipped the little bear cub for crying at night, he would have done so now. But--what was that?

There was a noise on the mountain above him, louder than Timmy Bear-cub's cry--a rattling and rolling, bumping and thudding! Yes, he heard it now--now that he was wide awake! But he wouldn't have heard it so soon, if Timmy Bear-cub hadn't waked him with his crying.

The shepherd jumped to his feet. All the mountain seemed rattling with thunder. Oh! that terrible, rolling, crashing noise, pounding down, what did it mean?

Why, the very ground seemed shaking where he had lain by his fire.

Then, in another moment he knew what it meant, and that Timmy had waked him just in time.

"It's a landslide!" gasped Shepherd Timothy. "A big landslide on the mountain! The heavy rains of the last few days have loosened a lot of earth and stones which are rolling and sliding down the mountainside. And I--I must get away from this, quick as lightning, or they'll fall on me and crush me! I wouldn't have heard it in time to get out of the way, if that bear cub hadn't aroused me by his crying!"

Poor Shepherd Timothy! He was puffing and panting as when he ran away over the plain from Timmy's bear mother, for he knew there wasn't a moment to lose if he were to get away from the foot of the mountain before all the falling earth and rocks fell on him and buried him.

And the ground seemed shaking under his feet.

But did he forget Timmy Whoof, the little bear cub whose lonely crying had waked him just in time to get away?

No, sir! He snatched out his camp knife and cut the rope which tied Timmy to a tree. Then he picked the little bear cub up in his arms, as he might have lifted a little lamb of his flock, and jumped away from the noisy mountainside.

He ran and ran as fast as ever he could on his fat legs, while a shower of clay and pebbles which had been torn loose from the old mountain by the landslide, meaning the sliding rocks and earth, struck him on the back of the neck and beat upon his broad shoulders.

"Oh! Oh!" he said to himself. "Oh! if this little bear, Timmy, hadn't waked me just in time, by his crying, it would all have fallen on me and buried me, and him, too!"

But, as it was, the little bear had saved him--saved his life.

And when, at last, running and stumbling along, Shepherd Timothy reached a safe place, where the sliding, bumping rocks and earth couldn't fall on him, he just sat down and thanked God that his life was saved.

"There, now!" he said to himself, patting and stroking Timmy Whoof, the frightened bear cub, "I tried to reflect divine Love in my treatment of this little bear, by being kind, instead of whipping him when he cried for his mother, and now--now, he has saved my life--saved me--by waking me--from being buried under a landslide!"

And then and there, the shepherd made up his mind that he wouldn't give Timmy Bear-cub away to any little boys and girls, but that he would keep him right by himself until he grew to be a big bear, too big to stay on the hill of the rosy lights with the sheep and lambs.

So Man Timothy and Bear Timmy lived happily together for a long time.

But, at long last, there came a day when Timmy Whoof, grown to be a big, strong bear, dreamed strange day-dreams of wild woods and bee-trees and berry hunts and wood mice, and wanted to go to find them, to live among them again.

Then Shepherd Timothy said good-bye to him and let him go. He, Timmy Whoof, became a wild bear once more, roaming the woods and finding sweet honey, as his mother had done in the wild bees' candy store.

But sometimes, in after life, I think that, even in those thick woods, he must have had other day-dreams, remembering ones, of a time when he made friends with a Shepherd Man named Timothy, and played a most exciting candle game of putting out candle stars which came to life and light again, as by magic, on a hillside with baaing sheep!