# The red book of animal stories/How Tom the Bear was born a Frenchman

adapted from the work of Alexandre Dumas
HOW TOM THE BEAR WAS BORN A FRENCHMAN
Captain Pamphile had made many voyages in southern seas, and traded in gold dust, spices, and ivory; so he thought that the north might he a pleasant change, and that he could do a little business in furs and train-oil.
Now this happened more than sixty years ago, and the voyage took longer than it would in our days. And when at last they reached land, the Captain thought he would take a holiday, and go on shore for sport, leaving the ship in charge of the chief mate.
He plunged inland at once, and after some days’ march reached a great forest, where he hoped to find game; but as night came on, he realised that he did not know his way. It was not a cheerful prospect, for his clothing was light, and many growls were heard around, amongst which he recognized the voices of the hungry wolves abounding in these forests. He looked round for shelter, and chose a sturdy oak, which he climbed—only just in time, for the wolves, who had scented him from afar, came hurrying up in hopes of a good supper. But they were too late; the Captain had found a perch!
But the wolves hoped on, and huddling round the tree, moaned and howled so fearfully that the Captain could hardly restrain a shudder. Through the darkness he could still trace the outline of their shaggy backs and catch the gleam of their fierce eyes. This constant watch made him almost giddy, and, fearing a fall, he tied himself firmly to ​a bough with a rope he had with him. Then he gripped the branch overhead and closed his eyes.
Soon he became drowsy, and had a strange dream. A whistle seemed to sound overhead and something chilly to be stifling him with great coils. This gradually passed, and the ghosts of wolves seemed to fade and their howls to decrease as the tree bent and rocked; then all was silence.
After this the Captain fell sound asleep, and did not wake till dawn. As he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was the green boughs overhead through which were glimpses of blue sky. Then he looked down, and at once the terrors of the night were explained. The ground all round the tree was scratched up by the claws of many wolves, whilst one of them, crushed almost out of shape, lay there half swallowed by a huge serpent whose tail was still coiled round the tree.
The Captain trembled when he saw the double danger he had been in: the wolves at his feet and the serpent overhead; for he remembered the whistling sound, and the clammy folds which had so nearly choked him. He remained for some time staring at the strange sight before him, but at last dropped carefully to ground, and hurried away as fast as his feet would carry him.
There was no road in the forest, but the hunter’s instinct, combined with the sailor’s science, soon enabled him to strike on a track through the thick vegetation. He was hungry, but as, in his haste to fly from the wolves, he had lost his gun, all game was beyond his reach, and he had to be content with such roots and berries as he could find.
At length he thought he saw daylight more clearly, and, quickening his steps, arrived shortly at the outskirts of the forest in sight of a great green plain with a line of mountains beyond. To his joy a thin column of smoke in the distance gave signs of some habitation, and he struck at once towards it.
​It had grown dark before the Captain reached the hut from which came the smoke. As he drew near he saw that the door stood open and that a bright fire burnt on the hearth within. Before the fire the dark shadow of a woman passed to and fro.
He paused on the threshold, asking leave to enter, and on receiving an answering grunt, he stepped in and drew up an old stool near the fire. Opposite him crouched a young Sioux Indian, holding his head between his hands and seeming deaf to any sound of the stranger’s approach.
Pamphile looked at him, wondering were he friend or foe.
‘Does my brother sleep?’ he asked at last.
The Indian raised his head and pointed to one of his eyes which had evidently just been shot out by an arrow. The Captain asked no more questions, but turning to the old woman said: ‘The traveller is tired and hungry; can his mother give him food and shelter?’
‘There is a cake under those ashes and a bearskin in yonder corner,’ replied she. ‘My son can eat the one and sleep in the other.’
‘Have you nothing else to eat?’ inquired Pamphile.
‘Oh, yes; I’ve got other things,’ said the crone, fixing a longing gaze on the Captain’s watch-chain. ‘I have—that’s a fine chain of my son’s—I have salted buffalo and some good venison. I wish I had such a chain.’
‘Well, well, bring me some meat,’ replied Pamphile, avoiding a refusal; ‘and have you a bottle of corn brandy by you?’
The old woman raised a partition of matting and disappeared into the inner part of the hut. As she vanished the Indian raised his head.
‘Does my brother know where he is?’ he asked the Captain.
‘’pon my word, no,’ was the careless answer.
‘Has my brother any weapon with which he could defend himself?’
THE CAPTAIN HAD A STRANGE DREAM
​‘None.’
‘Then let him take this knife, and be careful not to go to sleep.’
‘And you?’ asked Pamphile, hesitating to accept.
‘I have my tomahawk—silence!’
So saying, he dropped his head between his hands again and became immovable.
The old woman raised the matting and brought in supper, and the Captain slipped the knife into his belt.
The woman’s eyes turned to the chain once more.
‘No doubt,’ said she, ‘my son met some white man on the war-path. He slew the man and took his chain.’
‘You are mistaken, mother,’ said the Captain; ‘I have been hunting buffalo and beaver as far up as Lake Superior; then I took the skins to the town and changed half for this watch-chain.’
‘I have two sons,’ remarked the woman, placing the supper on the table. ‘They have hunted these ten years, but have never managed to get such a chain as that. My son said he was hungry and thirsty; let him eat and drink.’
‘Does not my brother of the prairie sup?’ asked Pamphile, drawing his stool to the table.
‘Pain stops appetite,’ was the reply. ‘I am not hungry, but I am weary, and going to sleep. May the Great Spirit keep my brother.’
‘How many skins did my son give for the chain?’ began the covetous woman.
‘Fifty,’ said Pamphile at haphazard, falling to on his supper.
‘I have ten bear and twenty beaver skins here. I will give them for the chain.’
‘The chain is fastened to the watch,’ replied the Captain. ‘They cannot be separated, nor do I wish to get rid of them.’
‘It is well,’ said the woman with an evil smile. ‘Let ​my son keep them. Every living man is master of his property; only the dead possess nothing.’
The Captain glanced hastily towards the Indian, who did not move, and fell to on his supper as heartily as if he feared no danger. When he had finished he threw himself on the buffalo skin, but with no idea of going to sleep.
He had not been lying down very long, when the matting was raised and the woman peeped in cautiously. Neither sleeper stirred, so she went to the door of the hut and listened. No one was in sight, and she turned back and began to sharpen a long knife. The Captain watched her through his eyelashes and drew his own knife from his belt, opened it, and felt the edge.
Then steps were heard, and a minute later two big young men appeared bearing some game. They paused to look at the sleepers, and one of them asked his mother how they came there. For reply she led them silently behind the partition.
The Captain noiselessly turned so as to face the young Sioux, and noticed that, though apparently sound asleep, his head rested only on one hand, while the other lay by his side near his tomahawk.
Just then the matting was raised and the young men crawled silently under it, their mother’s head just peeping out behind them.
Each approached one of the sleepers, then paused, looking at their mother.
‘They sleep,’ she whispered; ‘go on!’
At her word each son raised his arm to strike, but instantly fell back with a cry.
The Captain had plunged his knife into the breast of one, and the Sioux had split the skull of the other.
The old woman uttered a despairing shriek, and rushed off to the forest, and the Indian, picking up a lighted brand from the hearth, proceeded to set fire to the hut, whilst he executed a triumphant war dance round it.
​Then he turned to Captain Pamphile: ‘Where does my brother wish to go?’ he said.
‘To Philadelphia.’
‘Follow me, then,’ and the Indian strode towards the forest.
They walked all night, and at daybreak came to the open plains. Here the Indian halted.
‘My brother has arrived,’ he said; ‘from the top of that mountain he will see Philadelphia.’
With these words he plunged back into the forest, and the Captain set out to climb the mountain.
On reaching the top he found his guide had said true, and he saw Philadelphia lying between the green waters of the Delaware and the blue waves of the ocean. Off he started in high glee, though his goal looked quite a two days’ march off. He was stepping briskly along, humming a tune and swinging a stick, when he noticed a black object at some distance. As he drew nearer the object seemed to approach too, and at length he made it out to be a negro.
This was lucky, for he wished to find some place where he could sleep. So he hurried on till he was face to face with the person he had seen.
Then he discovered his mistake. It was not a negro but a bear!
The Captain saw his danger, but he did not lose his presence of mind—though a glance round showed him there was no means of escape.
The bear on his side halted some yards off and examined the Captain.
The Captain reflected that many bullies are cowards at heart, and that possibly the bear might be as much afraid of him as he was of the bear; so he advanced. The bear, not a bit frightened, advanced too. The Captain turned on his heels to retreat, but after three steps found his way barred by a rock. Leaning against it, so as not to be surprised in the rear, he waited. ​He had not long to wait. The bear, a huge animal, followed exactly in his footsteps and marched straight upon him.
The situation was unpleasant, for the Captain’s only weapon was his stick, and when the bear arrived within two paces of him, the Captain raised it. The bear instantly rose on his hind legs and began to dance!
It was a tame bear, which had broken loose and escaped.
Captain Pamphile, reassured by his enemy’s deportment, now noticed that he was muzzled, and that part of the broken chain still hung at his neck.
He at once saw all the advantages to be derived from such companionship, so, seizing the end of the chain, he resumed his journey, leading the bear like a dog.
Towards evening, as they were crossing a great field, he noticed that the bear tried to stop near certain plants, which were unknown to him. Thinking there must be some special reason for this, he made a halt the next time it happened. The bear began to claw the ground and grubbed up a number of tubers or roots. Pamphile tasted one, and found it excellent, with a flavour reminding him of truffles. This was a valuable discovery, so he let the bear continue his hunt, and in an hour they had collected an ample supper for man and beast.
Then the Captain took note of a tree standing by itself, and having carefully examined it without discovering the trace of any reptile, he tied his bear to the trunk, used his back as a stepping-stone to the branches, and soon made himself a bed, where he slept soundly all night.
Next morning he woke refreshed and saw the bear sleeping quietly below. He climbed down and roused him, and both marched on so briskly that they reached Philadelphia by eleven o’clock that night.
Here a fresh difficulty arose. No innkeeper cared to house a savage bear at such a late hour. One after
THE BEAR INSTANTLY ROSE ON ITS HIND LEGS AND BEGAN TO DANCE
​another refused, and our Captain was beginning to despair when he spied a brightly lighted inn from which came sounds of singing and laughing. He felt certain some ship’s crew was making merry within, and pressed on, when the sound of a well-known song of his own country caused him to stop suddenly. He listened, with a heart beating for joy, and waited for the chorus. Yes, he was right! These were his fellow-countrymen, and, looking through the open door, he saw that they were not only his countrymen, but the crew of his own ship the ‘Roxalana.’
He did not hesitate an instant. Thanks to his privations and adventures he was hardly recognisable. He pushed the door wide open and walked in, followed by his bear.
A loud cheer greeted them.
The Captain regretted not having held any rehearsal, but the bear took the whole matter into his own hands—or paws.
He began by trotting round to clear a circle. The sailors stood on the benches, the first mate seated himself on the top of the stove, and the show began.
Everything a bear could learn that bear knew. He danced the minuet, rode astride on a broomstick, and pointed out the greatest rogue in the company. Such a shout of delight greeted the end of the performance that the mate offered to buy the bear as a present to the crew.
The Captain accepted the offer, but slipped out at the beginning of the second part of the performance without being recognized by any one.
He made his way to the harbour, and after some time succeeded in finding the ‘Roxalana,’ swung himself on deck, and went quietly down to his cabin and to bed.
The crew came on board much later, and what was their surprise next morning to see their missing captain appear among them and take command of the vessel as if he had never been absent. ​He at once set sail for France, taking the bear with him, and as soon as possible after reaching port he set out for Paris, intending to present his capture to Monsieur Cuvier, the naturalist.
Just after reaching Paris, the bear gave birth to two little cubs, and the Captain, always pleased with a good bargain, sold one to the hotel-keeper, who sold it again to an English gentleman by whom it was brought to London.
The other cub was sold to Alexandre Décamps, who named it ‘Tom,’ and confided its education to his friend Fau, with the admirable results we have read of in the ‘Blue Animal Story Book.’
(Adapted from A. Dumas.)