"O Brumle-Knute! Brumle-Knute!" yelled the boys in joyous

chorus, as they saw their resuer coming forward from behind the
rocks, "how did you find us?"

"I heard yer shots and I saw yer tracks," said Brumle-Knute,
dryly; "but when ye go bear-hunting another time ye had better

load with bullets instead of bird-shot."
"But Brumle-Knute, we only wanted to shoot the little bear,"

protested Wolf-in-the-Temple.
"That may be," Brumle-Knute replied; "but the big bears, they are

a curiouslyunreasonable lot--they are apt to get mad when you
fire at their little ones. Next time you must recollect to take

the big bear into account."
I need not tell you that the Sons of the Vikings became great

heroes when the rumor of their bear hunt was noised abroad
through the valley. But, for all that, they determined to

disband their brotherhood. Wolf-in-the-Temple expressed the
sentiment of all when, at their last meeting, he made a speech,

in which these words occurred:
"Brothers, the world isn't quite the same now as it was in the

days when our Viking forefathers spread the terror of their name
through the South. We are not so strong as they were, nor so

hardy. When we mingle blood, we have to send for a surgeon. If
we steal princesses we may go to jail for it--or--or--well--never

mind--what else may happen. Heroism isn't appreciated as once it
was in this country; and I, for one, won't try to be a hero any

more. I resign my chieftainship now, when I can do it with
credit. Let us all make our bows of adieu as bear hunters; and

if we don't do anything more in the heroic line it is not because
we can't, but because we won't."

PAUL JESPERSEN'S MASQUERADE
There was great excitement" target="_blank" title="n.兴奋；骚动；煽动">excitement in the little Norse town, Bumlebro,

because there was going to be a masquerade. Everybody was busy
inventing the character which he was to represent, and the

costume in which he was to represent it.
Miss Amelia Norbeck, the apothecary's daughter, had intended to

be Marie Antoinette, but had to give it up because the silk
stockings were too dear, although she had already procured the

beauty-patches and the powdered wig.
Miss Arctander, the judge's daughter, was to be Night, in black

tulle, spangled with silver stars, and Miss Hanna Broby was to be
Morning, in white tulle and pink roses.

There had never BEEN a masquerade in Bumlebro, and there would
not have been one now, if it had not been for the enterprise of

young Arctander and young Norbeck, who had just returned from the
military academy in the capital, and were anxious to exhibit

themselves to the young girls in their glory.
Of course, they could not afford to be exclusive, for there were

but twenty or thirty families in the town that laid any claims to
gentility, and they had all to be invited in order to fill the

hall and pay the bills. Thus it came to pass that Paul
Jespersen, the book-keeper in the fish-exporting firm of Broby &

Larsen, received a card, although, to be sure, there had been a
long debate in the committee as to where the line should be

drawn.
Paul Jespersen was uncommonly elated when he read the invitation,

which was written on a gilt-edged card, requesting the pleasure
of Mr. Jespersen's company at a bal masque Tuesday, January 3d,

in the Association Hall.
"The pleasure of his company!"

Think of it! He felt so flattered that he blushed to the tips of
his ears. It must have been Miss Clara Broby who had induced

them to be so polite to him, for those insolent cadets, who only
nodded patronizingly to him in response to his deferential

greeting, would never have asked for "the pleasure of his
company."

Having satisfied himself on this point, Paul went to call upon
Miss Clara in the evening, in order to pay her some compliment

and consult her in regard to his costume; but Miss Clara, as it
happened, was much more interested in her own costume than in

that of Mr. Jespersen, and offered no useful suggestions.
"What character would you advise me to select, Mr. Jespersen?"

she inquired, sweetly. "My sister Hanna, you know, is going to
be Morning, so I can't be that, and it seems to me Morning would

have suited me just lovely."
"Go as Beauty," suggested Mr. Jespersen, blushing at the thought

of his audacity.
"So I will, Mr. Jespersen," she answered, laughing, "if you will

go as the Beast."
Paul, being a simple-hearted fellow, failed to see any sarcasm in

this, but interpreted it rather as a hint that Miss Clara desired
his escort, as Beauty, of course, only would be recognizable in

her proper character by the presence of the Beast.
"I shall be delighted, Miss Clara," he said, beaming with

pleasure. "If you will be my Beauty, I'll be your Beast."
Miss Clara did not know exactly how to take this, and was rather

absent-minded during the rest of the interview. She had been
chaffing Mr. Jespersen, of course, but she did not wish to be

absolutely rude to him, because he was her father's employee,
and, as she often heard her father say, a very valuable and

trustworthy young man.
When Paul got home he began at once to ponder upon his character

as Beast, and particularly as Miss Clara's Beast. It occurred to
him that his uncle, the furrier, had an enormous bear-skin, with

head, eyes, claws, and all that was necessary, and without delay
he went to try it on.

His uncle, feeling that this event was somehow to redound to the
credit of the family, agreed to make the necessary alterations at

a trifling cost, and when the night of the masquerade arrived,
Paul was so startled at his appearance that he would have run

away from himself if such a thing had been possible. He had
never imagined that he would make such a successful Beast.

By an ingeniouscontrivance with a string, which he pulled with
his hand, he was able to move his lower jaw, which, with its red

tongue and terrible teeth, presented an awful appearance. By
patching the skin a little behind, his head was made to fit

comfortably into the bear's head, and his mild blue eyes looked
out of the holes from which the bear's eyes had been removed.

The skin was laced with thin leather thongs from the neck down,
but the long, shaggy fur made the lacing invisible.

Paul Jespersen practiced ursine behavior before the looking-glass
for about half an hour. Then, being uncomfortably warm, he

started down-stairs, and determined to walk to the Association
Hall. He chuckled to himself at the thought of the sensation he

would make, if he should happen to meet anybody on the road.
Having never attended a masquerade before, he did not know that

dressing-rooms were provided for the maskers, and, being averse
to needlessexpenditure, he would as soon have thought of flying

as of taking a carriage. There was, in fact, but one carriage on
runners in the town, and that was already engaged by half a dozen

parties.
The moon was shining faintly upon the snow, and there was a sharp

frost in the air when Paul Jespersen put his hairy head out of
the street-door and reconnoitred the territory.

There was not a soul to be seen, except an old beggar woman who
was hobbling along, supporting herself with two sticks. Paul

darted, as quickly as his unwieldly bulk would allow, into the
middle of the street. He enjoyed intensely the fun of walking

abroad in such a monstrous guise. He contemplated with boyish