The long, dark winter was on the wane¹. Months of cold starlight and terrific winds, with numberless storms of heavy snow, had gone by. Little by little the streak² of light on the horizon, the thin shadows which it cast over the snowfields, and the gentler quality of the air increased; so that every one who lived in this far Arctic region stirred in his winter sleep and there was preparation for a short and very busy summer.
 
Some of the animals had been abroad, indeed, throughout the whole dark night of the polar winter; such of them for instance as the lovely white fox and the great polar bear. For it was not their custom to crawl away, as many did, into the deep snow-banks, there to sleep it out; for they knew that even this season of blackness and appalling³ cold had plenty of food for them, and they were always insatiably hungry.
 
But Mr. Bear's wife was of a different turn of mind, and although she knew that her husband would not provide for her quite as she would like to be fed, she was willing to go deep into the snow and dig out for herself a warm bed away beneath the surface. There she had stayed, never so much as venturing to the opening after the real night had set in.
 
And there her cubs⁴ were born. Two of them there were. The good Mrs. Bear was so delighted with their beauty that she was impatient for the warm days to come when she could take them out and show them to her relatives and friends.
 
"Perhaps, too, their father will be back by the time summer comes," she thought.
 
And then she was suddenly glad that he was not around just now; for he was very quick-tempered, and if the babies annoyed him at all, he would be pretty sure to cuff⁵ them. And one blow of Mr. Bear's paw would finish the career of any baby bear in the world.
 
So the two little creatures, clad in the whitest of fur from head to foot, their claws as black as ebony, and their wide eyes as yellow as amber⁶, lay snuggled against the great warm body of their mother for all the weeks of the departing winter.
 
Suddenly, as they rolled over and looked upward through the snow cavern⁸, they saw for the first time what seemed to them a great big eye staring down at them.
 
"That's only the hole in the roof," Mrs. Bear explained. "And pretty soon you will see that it is all blue and beautiful above that window—and then we will go out and away."
 
What that meant they did not know; for life so far as they had known it consisted of meals and sleep and endless playtime on the icy floor of their cavern. But they were to know more about it very soon. A white wing flashed by one morning, and a land voice called down the depths of their cave.
 
It was Mr. Burgomaster, the good-natured gull⁹. He had come purposely to call on Mrs. Bear, for he had two stirring pieces of information to give her.
 
He perched by the edge of her skylight, and wasted no words in relating the news.
 
"There's a whale being driven ashore¹⁰; and the mists have hidden the birds."
 
He was gone before Mrs. Bear could so much as thank him for coming; and she was, indeed, deeply obliged. No one but good Mr. Burgomaster would ever have taken such pains.
 
What he said sounded strange enough, but it meant everything to Mrs. Bear. When a whale was disabled in the far depths of the sea, or had been caught in the currents and gales¹¹ in such a way that he must surely drift to shore, he was as good as dead and devoured¹². For in shallow water he would be helpless and once his enormous bulk was stranded¹³ on the rocks or the jagged capes¹⁴ of ice he could only give himself up to his enemies.
 
Mrs. Bear, however, would have been very cautious about venturing to the scene of the banquet, if the great flocks of birds, which were sure to be on hand, were not hidden from view as they hovered¹⁵ above it. Clouds of excited gulls¹⁶ that came nearer and nearer to the shore were a signal of what was about to happen. And the bears, the foxes, and the wolves were not the only ones who knew it. Men, with their ferocious¹⁷ packs of dogs, their long lassos of walrus¹⁸ hide, and their terrible spears, knew well enough what the noisy birds were announcing.
 
But all would be well if the fogs hung low, and the gathering¹⁹ flocks of sea-birds were thereby²⁰ hidden.
 
Mrs. Bear explained the situation to her cubs.
 
"Of course, your mother would not have built her nursery here," she ended, "if she thought those terrible creatures with the wolfish dogs and the ropes were within miles and miles of the spot. But you can never tell when they may turn up. They come with their dogs over endless tracks of snow and ice to find us, and they travel fast. You must lie as quietly as you can while I am gone. Amuse yourselves in only the quietest way. Don't call out at all; and go to sleep again, like good children."
 
With that Mrs. Bear rose to her hind²¹ feet and reached upward along the snow walls of her house. Then, balancing herself on a ridge²² of the ice which was for all the world like a side shelf, she made a ponderous²³ leap through the opening into broad daylight. For at last it was the real day, and a glorious glimmer²⁴ of sunlight behind the fogs showed that summer was coming.
 
It was good to breathe the free air, and Mrs. Bear shook herself violently to straighten out the creases²⁵ of her heavy coat. She would have liked to roar, loud and long, but she was trained by experience never to speak in a fog.
 
"You can't tell who's hearing you," her own mother used to say.
 
So she only trundled her mighty²⁶ bulk downward across the ice and snow, to its very edge, where it suddenly broke off and formed an embankment. Below this there was a narrow beach, or what appeared to be one—a strip of confused and tumbled blocks of ice and jagged rocks.
 
There was a sudden whizzing of wings above her head, and the wailing²⁷ cries of a hundred little gulls and the many crowds of birds that were hurrying to eat of whale fat. Mrs. Bear broke off in their direction; and soon the sound of snarling²⁸ voices, the yelps²⁹ of the quarrelsome foxes, and the vicious bark of the wolves met her ears. Yes, she was none too early, for evidently the assemblage of animals, all as famished³⁰ as herself, were fighting over the repast.
 
They were not so polite to Mrs. Bear as they might have been, for they begrudged³¹ her any share of the whale's body. But she paid little attention to any one, and went to work lustily on her first meal of the season.
 
After the first mouthfuls, however, she felt wonderfully good-humored; for such is the effect of a meal, and it is pleasant to stop and talk a bit when you know there is more to follow.
 
"I must thank you, Mr. Burgomaster," was her first remark. "You were kind to call me in time. This is a good beginning to the summer."
 
The white-winged gull, largest of all the birds that were present, and by far the best mannered, only begged Mrs. Bear to remember that they had been friends for many years.
 
"And I propose to name my children," Mrs. Bear announced, as this delicious dinner began to increase her fine spirits, "I propose to name the babies after you and your wife: Odin and Olga. That's what they shall be."
 
Mr. Burgomaster was at a loss how to express his gratitude³³ for this compliment. But he needed to say little, for such a generous tribute is not repaid in words.
 
Something he said later on, however, in which he quoted Dr. Penguin³⁴, brought forth³⁵ her assent³⁶ on the subject of eating too much, for she added, "True, true, it is not wise to overeat at your first meal of the year. A relative of mine did that once, and was unable to climb over the path to his door."
 
So, taking as goodly an amount of provender³⁷ with her as she could carry away, Mrs. Bear went home to feed her babies. They were far more interested in this new and ............