The Labrador black bear is almost as harmless as the caribou. Grenfell bought a cub, and in the winter-time gave him a barrel, to see if he would know what to do, having no mother to guide him. The bear knew by instinct how to make himself a warm and cosy nest for his long winter sleep. He found grass and moss, put them in the barrel, and trampled them down to make a padded lining such as a human being could hardly have bettered. We all know the story of General Israel Putnam,--how he crawled into the wolf-den at Pomfret and shot a wolf "by the light of its own eyes." A trapper in Labrador, instead of crawling into a den where an animal lay, entered an empty lair, under a cliff. It seemed to have been made on purpose for campers. He lit his small lantern, ate his supper, and then curled up as tidily as any four-footed tenant and fell asleep. Like the bears in the fairy tale, who came back to find Goldilocks in the chair and then in the bed of one of them, the real owners of the cave appeared in the night. The hunter was awakened suddenly by a noise like rolling thunder in the narrow entrance. He turned up his lamp, and the flare showed him a bear, so huge that it blocked the passage-way. Nimbly the hunter reached for his gun, and before the animal could do anything more than growl and threaten, a shot had tumbled him flat. Shoving aside the body, the trapper went out into the cold starlight, for he knew that the mate of the slain beast might appear at any moment. Sure enough, presently over the brow of the hill there shambled in black silhouette two more bears. He took careful aim and fired and brought them both down. The next time he makes a tour of his traps he probably will not choose a bear's den for his night's lodging. A bear that is harmless in the open may be excused for getting violent if he finds a man asleep in the very bed he fixed for himself. Grenfell's experience with bears for pets--he has tried to tame nearly everything animate from gulls to whales--was not so happy as with the caribou. He found that if "pigs is pigs," bears "remain bears, and are not to be trusted." He had two bear playmates for a long time, but when they hit out with their paws they dealt some "very nasty scratches," and what was fun for them was more serious for the tender pelt of a human being. The wolverine lives by his wits. He will turn over a trap and set it off before it can nip him. He is the pest of the man who has fur traps, for he will go from trap to trap and grab whatever he finds therein. He can climb trees and get meat which the owner thought was secure. Sometimes when he is caught he will get away with the trap and chain still attached to his leg. He will even carry the trap in his mouth, to relieve the strain. Like Kipling's Fuzzy Wuzzy in the Sudan, he has a great way of shamming dead. He may jump up and bite the hunter, or he may make a sudden dash for freedom. Can you blame him?