dirt.

It wasn't nearly as far to the river as it had been to the cornfield. Bobby was glad of this.

They found a nice, mossy bank to sit on. Bobby Bear rested while his father got two poles. Taking the lines from his pocket, he tied one to each of the fish poles and there they were, all ready to fish.

"What do you do, father?" asked the boy-bear. "How do you know when you have a fish on the line?"

His father answered, "First, we bait the hooks; that is, we put a worm on each of our hooks, so when it hangs dangling in the water the fish jump at it.

"They, of course, don't know there's a hook inside. They think it's a regular worm. When they pull at the worm you must jerk your rod ever so little. This is so you will catch the hook in the fish's mouth. He struggles to get away, and you pull him in.

"There's one thing I want to be sure of, that is, that you don't let the pole fly out of your hand. So, I'll tie it to your wrist."

They started fishing. Father Bear got a bite. He pulled his pole up quickly. No fish—but a clean hook. So he put another worm on, threw the line in, and waited.

This time when the fish bit Father Bear was too quick for it, and in a moment he had it up on the bank.

Bobby was all eagerness now. He wanted to catch a fish too.

"Oh, father," he cried. "I've got a bite. Look at me—"

But he didn't finish his sentence, for something heavy on his line gave a jerk. He lost his balance and fell off the rock on which he had been sitting. Into the water he fell—splash—but he hung tightly to his rod. The current was swift and the big weight on his line kept dragging him away from shore.

INTO THE WATER HE FELL

Sure enough, Bobby Bear had a bite.

Bobby Bear was struggling in the water, trying to swim to shore. It was pretty hard work, for the fish on the end of his line was nearly as big as he.

At first Father Bear thought it was just an ordinary little fish on Bobby's line. Besides he knew his boy could swim so he thought he would let him get back to shore by himself. He wanted to teach Bobby Bear to depend on himself on all occasions.

Suddenly he saw a great fish flop up out of the water and then he realized what a monster Bobby had on his line. He immediately threw down his fish line and plunged in to his son's rescue. With a few strokes of his powerful arms he reached Bobby Bear.

Grasping the boy-bear around the waist, he drew him to land. The fish, caught as it was on the hook, couldn't help coming too.

My, but it was a wonderful fish. Bobby was indeed very proud to think he had caught such a big fish.

"No wonder I fell into the water, father, with such a big fellow on my line," he said.

"Yes," answered his father, "that's the biggest fish I have seen in these parts for many a year. Your mother will certainly fix up a feast for us with that fish. She can stuff it and add a few slices of nice, sweet bacon."

"Yum, yum," said Bobby, "it makes my mouth water to think about it. Can't we go right home now?"

"Oh, no," said his father. "The fish are biting so well today, we had better stay a while longer. Besides it will give us a chance to dry our clothes, sitting here in this hot sun. I don't want you to catch cold, you know. It's shady all the way home through the woods."

"But what will we do with the big fish? He's liable to get away. Just look at him flopping about on the bank."

"Don't you worry about that fish. I'll fix him." So saying, Father Bear took a stout cord from his pocket. One end he passed through the fish's mouth—the other he tied around a young tree. Then he threw the fish back into the river to keep it fresh until it was time to go home.

Being a bright, sunny day, Bobby and his father soon were dry. Bobby rolled in the long grass, then sat on a stump in the sun. Father Bear who laughed at cold and heat, and trouble, and danger, simply shrugged his shoulders and lit his pipe. Then he went on fishing.

Many more fish were caught before the sun going down warned them it was time to go home. They rolled up their lines, threw the poles in the river, then tossed the worms after them and started back through the thick woods to their cave.

Father Bear had a big string of fish. Bobby proudly carried the one which had pulled him into the water. It was so heavy it made a load in itself. He wanted his mother to see him with his first fish—and a monster at that.

THE FIGHT WITH THE WOLVES

Perhaps it was the smell of the fish. Maybe it was because of the noise that Bobby and his father made, singing and whistling as they walked along. Whatever the cause, five gray wolves, gaunt and lean, met them at the turn of a road.

"Ho! ho! Here's supper for us. And we won't have to work to get it," cried the biggest wolf, in a loud, gruff voice.

"Fine, fresh fish," said the next largest wolf. "And all ready for us to take."

"Well, we surely are lucky," the third wolf cried. "I'll make short work of my portion."

"Let us see, let us see. Five gray wolves, to two bears. This will be an easy job for us." So spoke wolf number four.

"I'm so hungry, oh, so hungry. When are we going to start eating the fish?" wailed the smallest wolf of the lot.

All the time the wolves were talking they were slinking around Father Bear and Bobby.

Now they rushed forward, thinking it would be very easy to overcome the bears and take the fish for themselves. But they reckoned wrong. They didn't know that Father Bear had won many prizes as the greatest fighting bear for miles around.

Why, he even had been known to conquer a lion—so strong were his great arms and legs, and so powerful his jaws. So, when four gray wolves rushed at him at once he was ready for them. Wolf number one went down with a blow which killed him at once. The next two were cruelly wounded by Father Bear's powerful claws. And the fourth, seeing how badly the rest were getting on, ran away, as fast as he could.

What about little Bobby Bear all this time? Remember, he had a fish to guard, and this fish was almost as big as himself. The fifth wolf had attacked Bobby, who never had seen such awful white teeth and angry eyes.

He hardly knew what to do. One thing he was determined on, though, and that was that this boy-wolf would never get the fish from him. What, the fish he had caught himself? The idea.

So he quickly struck with all his might at the wolf, grabbing him as he stumbled. Then the wolf found out how strong Bobby was.

"Please, Mr. Bear, let me go, and I'll never again try to harm you," he called out.

"Will you run right away and never come near me again?" Bobby panted, for he was using all his strength.

"Yes, yes, anything, only let me go," said the little wolf.

With this Bobby let go. The wolf fell to the ground—he was so tired. He lay there a few moments, then with much grunting got on his feet and ran off.

For some time Father Bear had been watching his boy. Very proud indeed was he of what was going on.

Now that all danger was past he rushed over and embraced Bobby. "My boy, how well you fought. You're a credit to Bearland."

Gathering up their fish, they once more started for home.

The battle with the wolves had not taken more than a few minutes, although, as Bobby now told his father, it had seemed a long, long while to him.

"I was so afraid the little wolf would steal my fish," said Bobby.

"It is well to be able to take care of yourself, isn't it?" asked Father Bear.

"Yes," said Bobby. "If you keep on taking me out with you every day, I shall grow up to be a very strong bear. I