So back to camp they went in triumph, their sugar packed on the sledge, and on top of the load sat the little, furry bear cub, which they had already named Whitey. Because Whitey was such a cunning little fellow he was accepted in camp, and soon became a perfect pet. He was full of mischief, however, and could never be left within reach of the sugar crocks. He broke and filched eggs, and even gnawed whole sides of bacon. To make up for his mischief he acquired many taking tricks. He soon learned to stand on his head, and beg for lumps of maple sugar, and was beginning to take a few clumsy, capering steps, which Indian Pete called dancing. Evil days came, and as Whitey grew older he became cross, and would often bite and scratch roughly. So finally, the boys were told they would have to part with their pet. Now, as good luck would have it, an opportunity came to sell the bear to a man who dealt in trained animals. Dick and Joe went sadly to work, and built for him a rough coop with slats in front. In this coop Whitey was placed, and the following day he would be taken away. For the last time the boys visited him in his crate, which had been set behind the camp, in the edge of the woods, so that his whines might not disturb the camp through the night. Early the next morning before sunrise the team would take him away. The boys threw in lumps of sugar and things which their pet fancied most, and after shaking his rough paw, sadly they said good-bye to him, for Whitey would be gone before they were astir in the morning. That very night, when everybody was asleep, from far across the valley travelled a great, shambling black bear. She had come from far over the other side of Lone Mountain. She shuffled her way to the boys' sugar camp first. In and out of the desolate shack she stole, stopped to sniff at the blackened firebrands, nosed anxiously about the spot where her cub had rested so long ago, when one cub had followed her back to the den and the other had been lost. Then, wheeling suddenly about, she took an almost worn-out, indistinct trail which led into the forest; and starting into a broken canter she headed toward the lumber camps. Thus it happened when the team halted to pick up the wooden crate and carry the bear cub to town, there was no cub to be found. All that remained was a heap of broken, splintered boards. The boys soon spied out the small tracks of Whitey, and then Indian Pete pointed out two other great broad marks--the tracks of a full-grown bear. The mother bear had never forgotten her cub; she had come back for it at last, and just in the nick of time. The boys were secretly glad that their pet had regained his freedom. Surely, in the great, green spruce forests, where the red raspberries grew thick and sweet on the mountain sides, and the wild honey may be taken any day, Whitey would be far, far happier than capering and doing tricks to amuse a curious crowd.