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[Illustration]




    Bear Brownie
    _The Life of a Bear_

    _From Animal Autobiographies by H. P. Robinson_


    REVISED BY
    JANE FIELDING

    NEW YORK
    A. L. CHATTERTON CO.




    Copyright, 1913
    A. L. CHATTERTON CO.




BEAR BROWNIE




CHAPTER I.

HOW I TUMBLED DOWNHILL.


It is not easy for one to believe that he ever was a cub. Of course, I
know that I was, and as it was only nine years ago I ought to remember
it fairly clearly.

It is not so much a mere matter of size, although it is doubtful if any
young bear realizes how small he is. My father and mother seemed
enormous to me, but, on the other hand, my sister was smaller than I,
and perhaps the fact that I could always box her ears when I wanted to
gave me an exaggerated idea of my own importance. Not that I did it very
often, except when she used to bite my hind-toes. Every bear, of course,
likes to chew his own feet, for it is one of the most soothing and
comforting things in the world; but it is horrid to have anyone else
come up behind you when you are asleep, and begin to chew your feet for
you. And that was Kahwa--that was my sister, my name being Brownie--was
always doing, and I simply had to slap her well whenever she did.

But, as I said, cubhood is not a matter of size only. As I look down at
this glossy coat of mine, it is hard to believe that it was ever a dirty
yellow color, and all ridiculous wool and fluff, as young cubs' coats
are. But I must have been fluffy, because I remember how my mother,
after she had been licking me for any length of time, used to be obliged
to stop and wipe the fur out of her mouth with the back of her paw.
Every time my mother had to wipe her mouth she used to try to box my
ears, so that when she stopped licking me, I, knowing what was coming
next, would tuck my head down as far as it would go between my legs, and
keep it there till she began licking again.

Yes, when I stop to think, I know, from many things, that I must have
been just an ordinary cub. For instance, my very earliest recollection
is of tumbling downhill.

Like all bears, I was born and lived on the hillside. In the Rocky
Mountains, where my home was, there is nothing but hills, or mountains,
for miles and miles, so that you can wander on for day after day, always
going up one side of a hill and down the other, and up and down again;
and at the bottom of almost every valley there is a stream or river