“It’s bad to be caught among the oaks in a thunder storm,” she told the cubs as they waited. “It’s bad to be caught under any tall tree. Better far, when a storm comes up, abandon your tree and wait out in the open where there is nothing to attract the lightning. “There are only two things in all the Deep Woods that a bear ought really to be afraid of, and one of those is lightning—for there’s no fighting back,” said Mother Black Bear. “What is the other thing you are afraid of, Mother?” asked Woof, “Mrs. Porcupine?” “No, I’m not afraid of Mrs. Porcupine, if I did think best to let her have our tree. I just believe in keeping out of her way, that’s all.” “Then what is the other thing you are afraid of?” asked Twinkly Eyes, whose trembling had ceased as the storm passed around to the south. “Men with guns,” said Mother Black Bear im-press-ive-ly. (When you say a thing im-press-ive-ly, you try to impress it on other people’s minds, so they will never forget.) “You can’t fight men with guns. That is once when a bear just simply has to run away.” “That would suit Twinkly Eyes, all right,” laughed Woof, poking his brother in the ribs. “Eh, there?” The smaller cub gave a growl. “Just because I didn’t want to learn to swim!—I’ll teach you to be afraid yourself, one of these days! You see if I don’t!” he growled in his baby throat, as he thought of how Woof had pushed him into the lake. XIII TWINKLY EYES GETS EVEN He’d get even, somehow, Twinkly told himself, seizing his brother’s nose; and as the fat cubs clinched the storm was forgotten. Mother Black Bear gave them each a cuff, then stalked away, leaving them unprotected in the pelting hail. Such clawing and biting and squealing as followed you never did see! The clouds rolled away toward Mount Olaf and the hail changed to rain, and the rain suddenly gave way to a red glow in the West where the sun goes to bed. But the cubs fought on. Mother Black Bear stood and watched, feeling that they were gaining a training in the use of their muscles that would stand them in good stead later on. She would interfere only if she saw that one of them was really getting hurt. [Illustration: “Such clawing and biting and squealing—you never did see!” —Page 38 ] Now just behind the circle of brushwood in which they had sought safety from the thunder storm there was an old root that sloped straight down a 15-foot incline. To this Twinkly was trying his best to shove his brother, and though he was somewhat lighter than Woof, weighing a bare six pounds to Woof’s six and a half, he was also quicker on his feet, and he did finally succeed in backing the other up to the incline. True, there was no lake at the bottom, as there had been when Woof shoved him down the bank in his sleep, but at least the teaser should find out what it felt like to be sent rolling in a helpless ball.