"He stopped with a bump, his nose went straight up in the air, and he
squalled: 'Wah-ah! Wah--' But in the middle of these remarks he
choked and strangled and started pawing wildly at his nose, trying to
get his breath.
"His eyes were shut tight, and that deadly oil clung like glue. His
paws couldn't begin to get it off, and so he fell to rooting his nose
in the turf like a pig, and plowing the grass with his whole face,
fairly standing on his head in his efforts, all the time coughing and
gurgling as if he was having a fit.
"His behavior, in fact, was perfectly ridiculous; but there was no one
there to laugh at it but Stripes, and he was too polite. He just
strolled on quietly to another bush, and kept looking for that bird's
nest.
"At last the bear, what with pawing and rooting, managed to get his
breath and open his eyes. He wallowed a bit more, and then sat up, his
nose full of dirt, and moss and grass hanging all over his face. He
was a sight, I tell you! And how he did dislike himself!
"As he sat there, thinking how he'd ever get away from himself, he
caught sight of Stripes, strolling off quietly over the brown hillocks.
Sitting back on his haunches, he blinked at the little, leisurely
black-and-white figure.
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