After he had pulled the house up Snythergen was not at all pleased to find the bear had eaten up all of their food. And now he beheld the intruder in a rage, bent on breaking their new ice-box! He was so indignant, his branches fairly itched to punish the clumsy brute. And the moment the bear was in a favorable position Snythergen crept softly behind him, stripped the leaves and twigs from one of his stoutest limbs and gave the beast a sound thrashing. As the blows fell fast and heavy the bear yelled like a sick puppy. But Snythergen closed his ears to the sound, and not until he was out of breath and perspiring did he conclude the brute had had enough. Then his kind heart was touched, for with the headache and the spanking, the bear was aching and smarting at both ends. [Illustration: “At least I can relieve his headache”] “At least I can relieve his headache,” thought Snythergen, bending over to examine the ice-box. There was still ice in one of the compartments. Removing a piece Snythergen was able to crowd it in against the bear’s head, and in spite of the brute’s wiggling, placed it so it rested against his forehead. Very gently the beast settled down on his aching haunches, to let the ice cool his throbbing brow. The ice-box was still attached to him as securely as ever. Apparently he had given up trying to free himself. But the bear was not to rest in peace for long. His head recently so hot now became freezing cold. And the pain of it drove him into a frenzy. Snythergen and Sancho were about to come to his assistance when he charged blindly forward and a lucky jump was all that saved Snythergen from a fatal collision. The bear rushed back and forth beating the ice-box against the rocks and trees, not minding how it hurt his neck and shoulders. His one desire was to relieve the terrible freezing in his brain. Snythergen quite understood all the bear’s thoughts and now decided that the big fellow had been punished enough. Grasping the rope from which the boulder dangled, and swinging it around his head, he brought it down squarely upon the ice-box. This well-aimed blow split open the box, freeing the bear’s head, but the door frame still clung about his neck—an absurd collar. Stunned, lame, and aching, the poor bear crawled into the sunlight to thaw out his brain and to melt his frost-bitten thoughts. But the sun did not melt his hard heart or calm his rising indignation. He looked about angrily for his persecutors. He strode threateningly up to one tree after another, but they all stood very still and wore the innocent look that comes natural to trees. Snythergen, however, had not been a tree long enough to look as unconcerned as the others; besides he had a guilty conscience.