“Has Buster Bear a tail?” asked Old Mother Nature, and her eyes twinkled.  
“No,” declared Whitefoot the Wood Mouse .
 
“Yes,” contradicted Chatterer the Red Squirrel.
 
“What do you say, Prickly Porky?” Old Mother Nature asked.
 
“I don't think he has any; if he has, I've never seen it,” said Prickly Porky.
 
“That's because you've got poor eyes,” up Jumper the Hare. “He certainly has a tail. It isn't much of a one, but it is a tail. I know because I've seen it many times.”
 
“Woof, woof,” said a deep, rumbly, voice. “What's going on here? Who is it hasn't any tail?”
 
At the sound of that deep, rumbly, grumbly voice it looked for a few minutes as if school would be broken up for that day. There was the same mad to get away that there had been the morning Reddy Fox unexpectedly appeared. However, there was this difference: When Reddy appeared, most of the little people sought safe hiding places, but now they merely ran to safe distances, and there turned to stare with and great respect at the owner of that deep, rumbly, grumbly voice. It was great, big Buster Bear himself.
 
Buster stood up on his legs, like a man, and his small eyes, for they are small for his size, twinkled with fun as he looked around that awe filled circle. “Don't let me interrupt,” said he. “I heard about this school and I thought I would just pay a friendly visit. There is nothing for you to fear. I have just had my breakfast and I couldn't eat another mouthful to save me, not even such a tender as Whitefoot the Wood Mouse.”
 
Whitefoot hurriedly ran a little farther away, and Buster Bear . Then he looked over at Old Mother Nature. “Won't you tell them that I'm the best-natured and most harmless fellow in all the Great World?” he asked.
 
Old Mother Nature smiled. “That depends on the condition of your stomach,” said she. “If it is as full as you say it is, and I know you wouldn't tell me an untruth, not even timid Whitefoot has anything to fear from you.” Then she told all the little people to put aside their fears and return.
 
Buster, seeing that some of the more timid were still fearful, backed off a short distance and sat down on his haunches. “What was that about a tail I overheard as I came up?” he asked.
 
“It was a little discussion as to whether or not you have a tail,” replied Old Mother Nature. “Some say you have, and some say you haven't. Whitefoot thinks you haven't.”
 
Once more Buster Bear chuckled way down deep in his throat. “Whitefoot never in his life looked at me long enough to know whether I've got a tail or not,” said he. “I never yet have seen him until now, when he wasn't running away as fast as his legs could take him. So with me always behind him, how could he tell whether or not I have a tail?”
 
“Well, have you?” demanded Peter Rabbit bluntly.
 
“What do you think?” asked Buster.
 
“I think you have,” said Peter. “But if you have you are sitting down on it and I can't tell. It can't be much of a one, anyhow.”
 
Again Buster chuckled. “Quite right, Peter; quite right,” said he. “I've got a tail, but hardly enough of a one to really call it a tail.”
 
As Buster sat there, every one had a splendid chance to see just how he looked. His coat was all black; in fact he was black all over, with the exception of his nose, which was brown. His fur was long and rather shaggy. His ears were round. His paws were big and armed with strong, wicked looking claws.
 
“You all see what a black coat Buster has,” said Old Mother Nature. “Now I'm going to tell you something which may surprise you. Just as there are Red Foxes that are black, so there are Black Bears that are brown.”
 
“What's that?” Buster, with the funniest look of surprise on his face.
 
“It's a fact, Buster,” said Old Mother Nature. “A great many of your family live out in the mountains of the Far West, and there quite often there will be one who is all brown. People used to think that these brown Bears were a different kind of Bear, and called them Cinnamon Bears. It was a long, long time before it was found out that those brown Bears are really black Bears. Sometimes one of the twin babies will be all black and the other all brown. Sometimes one of Buster's family will have a white spot on his breast. Buster's branch of the family is found in nearly all of the wooded parts of the entire country. In the Sunny South they live in the swamps and do not grow as big as in the North. Buster, there is a soft spot on the ground; I want you to walk across it so that these little folks can see your footprints.”
 
Good-naturedly Buster dropped on all fours and walked across the soft spot. Right away every one understood why Old Mother Nature had asked Buster to do this. The prints of his hind feet were very like the prints of Farmer Brown's boy when barefooted, only of course very much larger. You see, they showed the print of the heel as well as the rest of the foot.
 
“You see,” said Old Mother Nature, “Buster puts his whole foot on the ground, while all members of the Dog and Cat families walk wholly on their toes. Animals that put the whole foot down are called plantigrade. How big do you think Buster was when he was born?”
 
“Of course I'm only guessing,” said Chatterer the Red Squirrel, “but he is such a big fellow that I think he must have been a bouncing big baby.”
 
Old Mother Nature............