Uncle Andy gazed at him for some seconds in a disconcerting silence, till
the Child felt himself no bigger than a minute.
"It was a bear," he announced at length coldly. Then he was silent again.
And the Child, mortified at having made such a bad guess, was silent too,
in spite of his pangs of curiosity at this startling assertion.
"You see," went on Uncle Andy, after he was satisfied that the Child was
not going to interrupt again, at least for the moment, "you see, under
those two ridges of frozen snow there was a little cavern-like crevice in
the rock. It was sheltered perfectly from those terrific winds which
sometimes for days together would drive screaming over the levels. And
in this crevice, at the first heavy snowfall, a big white bear had curled
herself up to sleep.
"She had had a good hunting season, with plenty of seals and salmon to
eat, and she was fat and comfortable. Though very drowsy, she did not go
quite to sleep at once, but for several days, in a dreamy half-doze, she
kept from time to time turning about and rearranging her bed. All the
time the snow was piling down into the crevice, till at last it was level
full and firmly packed. And in the meantime the old bear, in her sleepy
turnings, had managed to make herself a sort of snowhouse--decidedly
narrow, indeed, but wonderfully snug in its way.
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