CHAPTER VII
THE VAGABONDS
Pedro and Black Bruin were vagabonds, going up and down the country asthe spirit moved them, living like two tramps without home, shelter orfriends, save as they made them by the way.
Some nights they slept in haystacks, or in old barns. Sometimes theycrawled into wagon sheds and slept upon loads of grain or produce thathad been gotten ready for the morrow's marketing. More frequently theybivouacked in the open, under the blue canopy of heaven, merelysheltered a little by a friendly spruce or pine, with the silver moonfor a lamp, and the bright stars for candles. The great shaggy beastand the little dark man slept in one bed, as it were. Pedro usuallypillowed his head upon Black Bruin and so the bear had to lie verystill and not disturb his master, for he got a pounding if he did.
Out here in the open all the night sounds came to them with startlingdistinctness;--the cry of the nighthawk and the chirping of a cricket,the peeping of hylas and the croaking of frogs and the wild, tremulous,mournful cry of the screech-owl.
The night winds blew upon their faces and the fragrance of thedew-laden flowers was in their nostrils. Theirs was not a cramped,stifling existence, but a full free life, and the sense of living,breathing, growing things was everywhere, and it made them glad.
The tan of wind and sun was upon Pedro's skin, making it even moreswarthy.
In the morning, when the first faint gray streak lit the east, androbins and thrushes began to sing, they were up and ready for the day'swork. Their toilet was very simple,--merely a wash and a drink ofwater from some neighboring brook, then they were ready for the road.
This was just the hour to find all the thrifty farmers' families atbreakfast and it was much easier to get something for themselves whenthe table was spread for others. So Black Bruin danced and wentthrough all his tricks, to the great delight of the children, that bothhe and Pedro might share the farmer's hospitality later.
When they were unlucky and had to go without breakfast, Pedro blamedhis shaggy companion and swore at him in broken English, or showeredblows upon him with the stout stick which he always carried.
Black Bruin soon learned to expect the blows and to cower from them andsometimes even whimper, when his master was unusually harsh; but in hisheart, which was that of a wild beast, he was storing up wrath.
But there was something about the Italian that held him at bay asthough with chains of steel. When Pedro's small glittering eyes wereupon him, his own eyes fell. A kick would send him groveling to earth.In some unexplainable way he felt that this cruel creature was hismaster. He was subdued and held by a terrible grip.
To the bear the man was always a mystery. There was something fearfulabout him that he could not fathom and his source of strength the poorbeast could not understand.
There was also an evil-smelling dark bottle in the Italian's insidecoat-pocket, which was an enigma. It was not ginger pop or beer, orany kind of soda water; Black Bruin knew all of these drinks himself,and this drink was like none of them.
One day Pedro had fallen into a strange deep sleep and the bottle hadslipped from his pocket. The bear had at once noticed it, picked it upand pulled out the cork, just as he would have done with a ginger popbottle, and had taken a small swallow. But the strange stuff hadburned his tongue and choked him. So he spat it out and broke thebottle with a single blow of his powerful paw. He finally licked upconsiderable of the whisky, as it was a hot day and he was thirsty. Ithad made him sleepy, so man and beast had lain down together in adrunken stupor.
After this day Black Bruin hated the bottle, out of which Pedro drankso frequently. They were also unlucky in getting meals when his masterdid this, for the simple country folk did not like to lodge or feedthem when the dark, sinister-looking man was half drunk. So in manyways the bottle brought them ill-luck.
When Black Bruin and his companion began their wanderings from town totown, it was early spring-time. The buds were just beginning to reddenupon the sugar-maple and the grass along sunny southern slopes, wasputting on its first faint touch of green. The days were warm andsunny, promising buds and blossoms, but the nights were still clear andcold.
At first they had to lie close together at night for warmth, or ratherthe man had to cuddle down close to his shaggy warm companion; butspring soon passed and summer came and the two wanderers reveled in thelavish beauty and richness of nature.
In many of the pastures blueberries grew in profusion and Black Bruinneeded no teaching to get his share of the palatable fruit. Along allthe country roads, growing upon the stone walls and fences, weredelicious red raspberries, which are much finer flavored than thecultivated kinds. Later on, when August laid her golden treasures inthe lap of Mother Earth, the blackberries ripened in wild profusion.First in the open pasture came the low bushberries, and then the highbushberries along the edge of the forest.
Last of all came autumn with its treasures of harvest, fruits, nuts,melons and grains.
Wild grapes they found in abundance and all the nut-bearing treesrattled down their treasures for them. The melon-patch, the poundsweeting tree, the peach-orchard and the turnip-field all paid toll tothe vagabonds. So, in spite of harsh treatment and hard work, BlackBruin laid on his usual layers of fat, against the long sleep of thecoming winter.
What wonderful days these were when they wandered lazily from villageto village, through long stretches of flaming red and golden forest,where the roadway was spread with a most gorgeous leaf-carpet.
They heard the jay squalling in the corn-field, and the crows gatheringin the clan for their annual caucus. The squirrels chattered in thetrees above them, but their old friends, the song-birds, had nearly allflown away to the South to escape the oncoming winter.
When Jack Frost and the merry north winds had robbed the trees of thelast of their foliage and they stood out grim and gaunt against thebleak November sky; when the last purple asters and the hardiest brightgoldenrod had faded, Black Bruin felt the old winter drowsiness slowlystealing upon him.
At last the first snow-storm came and that settled it in both the mindsof Pedro and the bear. So the Italian led his companion far up into awilderness region, and after searching about for half a day among theledges found a natural cave which was about the size of a small room,and here left Black Bruin to sleep away the winter months.
He stayed in the region just long enough to make sure that the winterdrowsiness had clutched him and also took the precaution to rollagainst the entrance of the cave, a large stone, which he had to movewith a lever, that he might be sure of finding his partner inVagabondia when he returned for him in the early spring. Pedro wouldtake the precaution to come back a few days before the bear wouldnaturally awaken.
A day or two after Black Bruin was left alone in his cavern a heavystorm set in, and before it ceased, a foot of snow had fallen.
It was now so deep that the passer-by would never have guessed that abear was soundly sleeping a few feet back of the boulder which Pedrohad placed at the entrance of the cave. This now merely looked like awhite snowdrift that some freak of the wind had piled upon themountainside.
In the dark and the silence of his underground room Black Bruin sleptthrough the winter blizzards and cold as well as he would have done inwarmer and more comfortable quarters. No sound broke the silence ofhis cave save his own deep breathing. If the sun shone, or the windshowled, or the storms beat, he knew it not.
Perhaps in dreamland he still wandered up and down the country pickingblueberries or poking under the dead leaves for nuts, and always andforever doing tricks until his legs and back ached.
As for Pedro, he had no idea of hibernating, so he went away to adistant city and worked for a fellow countryman in a fruit store.
But work was not to his liking and he longed for spring to come that heand his companion might again be upon the road living the old free life.