and now stood holding a complete suit of nice heavy, warm rabbit skins. Either Baby Bunting was a very large baby, or when papa had skinned the rabbit (which must have been a giant one) he found it much too large for Baby Bunting. However that may be, Billy jumped into it in a jiffy and found that it fitted him to perfection. And what a fine time Barker had with it! He crouched low, and then with yelps of delight jumped up and down on Billy's legs. He was playing that he had sighted a great big rabbit, and Billy joined in by running around the tree and back and forth with Barker in hot pursuit. Finally Billy stowed him away warmly inside and doggy went sound asleep, very, very much contented. Then with a leap Billy was off. Billy had not been away from the earth very long when a snowflake lit on his nose--then another and another, until they came down so thick and fast that he could not see a foot ahead of him, which wasn't strange, for his feet were under him. "My, my," he said, laughing, "Mother Goose must be picking a whole flock of geese to-day--gracious, I'm glad dear old Singing Tree gave me this nice suit; it's as warm as toast and keeps out the snow better than a whole store full of umbrellas and mackintoshes." And the snow fell thicker and faster, while it grew colder and colder, but Billy didn't mind that for he was nice and warm. Then the snow suddenly stopped, and looking beneath him Billy saw a great white field of snow with here and there mountains of ice and occasional patches of blue, cold-looking water. And there by the water's edge sat a white bear: indeed he seemed almost to be sitting in the water, so close to the edge was he, his face turned toward the land. As soon as Billy struck the ground, which he did within a few feet of the bear, he recognized him as an old, old friend, Fuzzy White. "Why, hello Fuzzy White, what are you doing here?" "Fishing," said Fuzzy, "don't talk, please, I've just had a nibble." "Where's your line," asked Billy in surprise, for he couldn't see any line or pole, and certainly Fuzzy was not faced the right way for fishing so far as Billy could see. "Sh! h--," said Fuzzy, raising a paw in warning, "there I've got him," and turning around quickly he showed a can of sardines clinging tightly to his button of a tail. "Is that your line?" asked Billy. "Certainly, line, bait, and pole--it gets cold sometimes hanging one's tail in the water for an hour or two, but one must eat." "But that's a can of sardines," said Billy. "Yes, and I hope they are the best French, with pure olive oil. This isn't a good season for the fine sardine cans to bite; though the big Maine Mustard variety are very easy to catch--ah-h-h, these are the good ones." And Fuzzy with great eagerness opened the can with his claw and gulped down the contents. "Do you really catch canned sardines?"