But Stripes didn't seem to mind noises like that.

His bright, intelligent eyes were on the bear all the time, you know, though he seemed to be so busy hunting for that bird's nest.
"'Pooh!' said the bear to himself, 'he's just plain idiot, that's what's the matter with him.

I'll eat him, anyway!' and he bounced forward, with paw uplifted, intending to gather Stripes as he would a fat cricket." Here Uncle Andy was so inconsiderate as to pause and relight his pipe.
The Babe clutched his arm.
"Well," he went on presently, "just at this moment Stripes made as if he was going to run away, after all.

He whisked round and jumped about two feet, and his fine tail flew up over his back, and in that very instant the bear thought the whole side of the hill had struck him in the face.
"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.