The Bears on Hemlock Mountain (Ready-for-Chapters)

by Alice Dalgliesh

  The cat arched her back and purred. Jonathan thought he had been polite long enough. So he allowed himself to give just a small sniff.

  Sniff, sniff. “Smells good in here!” said Jonathan.

  Sniff!

  “Mercy’s sake,” said his aunt. “You must be hungry coming all the way over the Mountain. Would you like a cookie?”

  “Please. Thank you,” said Jonathan hoping he did not sound too eager. Hoping, too, that it would not be just one cookie.

  He need not have worried. His aunt brought a plate with a whole pile of crisp crunchy cookies. She put them on the table beside him. Then she brought a mug and a big blue pitcher of milk.

  Mm-m-m! The cookies were good! Not as good as his mother’s perhaps, but good, just the same.

  Jonathan rocked and munched on cookies. He drank milk. He rocked and munched and drank. The clock on the kitchen shelf did its best to tell him that time was passing.

  “Tick-tock, tick-tock, time to go, tick-tock.”

  But Jonathan rocked and ate and did not hear it.

  “Tick-tock, tick-tock.”

  The fire was warm and Jonathan was most awfully full. He stopped rocking and slowly, slowly, slowly, his eyes closed. Jonathan was asleep!

  Mercy’s sakes! thought his aunt. I wonder what the boy wanted? But it would be a shame to wake him … So she let him sleep.

  CHAPTER 7

  There May Be Bears

  Time went on. Jonathan slept. The sun went lower in the sky.

  “Tick-tock!” said the clock. “Time to go!” But Jonathan went on sleeping.

  The big black cat had also been sleeping by the fire. Now she got up, stretched, and came to rub against Jonathan’s legs.

  As she rubbed she purred, a loud rumble of a purr. And then, at last, Jonathan awoke!

  At first he did not know where he was. Then he remembered.

  “Oh!” he said. “It is late and Ma said I must be home before dark.”

  “There is still time, if you hurry,” said his aunt. She wondered if Jonathan had come there just to eat her cookies. Why should he when his mother made such good cookies of her own. It was quite a puzzle.

  Jonathan put on his muffler and his coat and his boots.

  “Goodbye Aunt Emma,” he said politely.

  “Goodbye Jonathan. Do not waste time going over the mountain.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…”

  “Because what?”

  “Oh, just because…”

  Jonathan was quite sure she was thinking about bears. But he was brave, and off he went toward Hemlock Mountain.

  Jonathan had gone quite a way before it suddenly came to him. He stood still in the snow, feeling very cross with himself. You and I know what he had forgotten.

  THE BIG IRON POT!

  There was nothing for poor Jonathan to do but to turn and go back.

  How silly I am, he said to himself. How silly I am!

  In a short time he was back at his Aunt Emma’s house. Once more he lifted the brass knocker. Aunt Emma came to the door.

  “Jonathan! Did you forget something?”

  “I forgot what I came for,” Jonathan said truthfully. “Mom sent me to ask for the loan of your big iron pot. After the christening all the aunts and uncles and cousins are coming to supper.”

  “And as I am one of them, I’ll be glad to lend you my big iron pot,” said Aunt Emma. She went into the kitchen and came back with the big iron pot. It was very large. Now Jonathan did not feel as if he had grown at least an inch. He felt like a very small boy.

  “Do you think you can carry it?”

  “Indeed I can,” said Jonathan, trying to feel and brave again. He took the pot by the handle and started off toward Hemlock Mountain.

  When he was out of sight his aunt began to worry.

  “He is not very big,” she told the black cat. “And it is growing dark.”

  “Purr-rr-rr,” said the black cat. “Purr-rr-rr.” “Oh, don’t tell me,” said Jonathan’s aunt with crossness in her voice.

  “YOU KNOW

  THERE MAY BE BEARS

  ON HEMLOCK MOUNTAIN!”

  CHAPTER 8

  Watch Out, Jonathan!

  Jonathan and the big iron pot were going up the side of Hemlock Mountain.

  Now it was really beginning to be dark. Jonathan knew he should hurry, but the iron pot was heavy. Jonathan’s steps were heavy and slow. This time he was stepping in the big foot-prints he had made coming down.

  It was really and truly dark. The tall trees were dark. The woods were dark and scary.

  “Crack!” a branch broke in the woods. It was as loud as a pistol shot.

  “Woo-ooh. Woo-ooh!” That was an owl, but it was a most lonely sound.

  Jonathan began to think about bears. And to keep up his courage he said, in time to his own slow steps:

  THERE…ARE…NO…BEARS

  ON… HEMLOCK… MOUNTAIN

  NO BEARS…NO…BEARS…AT…ALL.

  He was tired and out of breath. So he rested for a minute, then he went on saying:

  THERE…ARE…NO…BEARS…

  ON… HEMLOCK… MOUNTAIN.

  NO BEARS…

  Watch out, Jonathan. WATCH OUT! What was that, among the trees, right on top of the mountain? Two big, dark… what could they be?

  They moved slowly… slowly… but they were coming nearer … and nearer … and nearer …

  Jonathan had to think quickly. There was only one thing to be done. Jonathan did it. He put the big iron pot upside down on the snow. Then he dug out a place and crawled under it.

  The pot was like a safe house. Jonathan dug out another little place in the snow so that he could breathe.

  Then he waited.

  CHAPTER 9

  Paws on the Snow

  Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! It was the sound of big, heavy paws on the snow.

  The bears were coming!

  Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Nearer and nearer and nearer …

  Jonathan’s hair stood up straight on his head. He thought about a lot of things. He thought of his mother and father and the gray stone farmhouse. Had they missed him? Would they come to look for him? He thought about the bears and wondered how they knew it was spring.

  Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Nearer and nearer … Jonathan made foolish words to the sound just to keep up his courage:

  THERE…ARE…NO…BEARS

  ON… HEMLOCK… MOUNTAIN…

  NO…BEARS…AT…ALL…

  But the sound had stopped. The bears were right beside the big iron pot.

  Jonathan could hear them breathing.

  And he was all alone on Hemlock Mountain.

  Suddenly, above the breathing of the bears, Jonathan heard a noise.

  It was a twittering and a chattering. The twittering was the soft, comfortable noise that birds make before they go to sleep.

  And then Jonathan knew that the trees were full of birds and squirrels. He was not alone on Hemlock Mountain.

  Perhaps the bears knew this, too. Perhaps they had not quite waked up from their long winter nap. They sat there by the big iron pot. They waited and waited. But they did not try to dig under it.

  Inside the iron pot it was dark. Jonathan was far from comfortable. Outside he could hear the bears going sniff, sniff, sniff. Poor Jonathan!

  Oh, he said to himself. Why did I wait so long at Aunt Emma’s? Why did I eat so many cookies? Why did I go to sleep? There did not seem to be any answer to these questions, so he stopped asking them.

  The birds kept up their twittering and the squirrels kept up their chattering.

  Sniff, sniff went the bears. One began scraping at the snow around the iron pot.

  Poor Jonathan!

  Then the birds stopped twittering and the squirrels stopped chattering. The bears stopped sniffing and listened. What was that?

  Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!

  Away off in the distance there was the sound of boots on the snow. Someone was comi
ng up Hemlock Mountain!

  It was very still. The only sound was the crunch of boots. And at last Jonathan heard it. His father’s voice!

  “Hello-o-o-oh, Jon-a-than!”

  “Hello-o-o-oh, Pa!”

  Jonathan’s voice did not sound very loud under the iron pot. Would his father hear it?

  Again his father’s voice came, nearer and louder.

  “HELLO-O-O-OH, JON-A-THAN!”

  “HELLO-O-O-OH, Pa!”

  The bears had had enough of this. They went lumbering off into the woods. And the crunch of boots on the snow came nearer and nearer …

  CHAPTER 10

  There ARE Bears

  Jonathan pushed back the big iron pot and stood up.

  There were no bears. But up the path came his father, carrying his gun. And with him were Jonathan’s Uncle James and his Uncle Samuel, his Uncle John and his Uncle Peter. Jonathan had never in all his life been so glad to see the uncles.

  “Jonathan!” said his father, “what a fright you have given us! Where have you been all this time?”

  “Coming over Hemlock Mountain,” said Jonathan in a small voice. And he ran right into his father’s arms.

  “Well,” said his father, when he had finished hugging Jonathan. “What is this?” He was looking at the big iron pot. “And why is it upside down?”

  “Bears,” said Jonathan.

  “THERE

  are

  BEARS ON HEMLOCK MOUNTAIN.”

  “Stuff and nonsense!” said his father.

  “But you are carrying your gun,” said Jonathan. “So is uncle …”

  “Well…” said his father.

  Jonathan pointed to the bear tracks in the snow.

  “Bears,” he said firmly.

  “THERE are

  BEARS ON HEMLOCK MOUNTAIN.”

  Jonathan’s father looked at the bear tracks in the snow. His uncles looked at them, too.

  “So!” they said. “So-o-o!”

  And the uncles went off into the woods with their guns.

  “You and I must go home, Jonathan,” said his father. “Your mother is worrying herself sick. You have been a mighty long time coming over Hemlock Mountain.”

  “Yes, Pop,” said Jonathan, and he hung his head.

  “But what kept you so long?” asked his father. They were going down the mountain, now, and Jonathan’s father was carrying the big iron pot.

  “Well,” said Jonathan. “First I ate cookies, then I drank milk, then I slept…”

  “H’m,” said his father. “It is not the way to do when you are sent on an errand. But I guess you have learned that by this time.”

  It was very still on Hemlock Mountain.

  There was only the crunch, crunch of boots on the snow. A squirrel scampered to a tree. He sat looking at Jonathan and his father, his paws on his heart.

  “I know what I know!” he seemed to say.

  Crack! What was that? A shot in the woods? Or a branch snapping? The squirrel, frightened, scampered higher up in the tree.

  “Oh!” said Jonathan.

  “Something tells me,” his father said. “Something tells me we shall have bear steak for dinner!”

  They kept on down the mountain. The birds twittered in the trees.

  “We know what we know.”

  “The birds and the squirrels and the rabbits helped me,” Jonathan said. “They are my friends.”

  “How could they help you?” asked his father. “They are so little.”

  “Well…” said Jonathan. But now they were near the gray stone farmhouse and there was no time to explain.

  The firelight shone through the open door. It made a warm, golden path on the snow. And in the doorway was Jonathan’s mother.

  “Oh, Jonny!” she said, as she hugged him. “How glad I am that you are safely home!”

  As for Jonathan, all he said in a rather out-of-breath way was:

  “THERE… are… BEARS

  ON … HEMLOCK…MOUNTAIN,

  THERE…

  ARE…

  BEARS!”

  Then he took the iron pot from his father and set it down in the middle of the floor. Now his voice was proud.

  “I brought it,” he said. “All the way over Hemlock Mountain. And here it is!”

  THE END.