He grunted, and almost let go in his surprise.

Naturally, he wanted to paw his nose--for _you_ know how it smarted!" "I guess _so_!" murmured the Babe in deepest sympathy, stroking the patch of mud on his ear.
"But that cub had naturally a level head.

He knew that if he let go with even one paw he would fall to the ground, because the trunk of the tree at that point was so big he could not get a good hold upon it.

So he just dug his smarting nose into the bark and clawed himself around to the other side of the tree, where the branches that were still green sheltered him a bit, and there was a thick shadow from the nearest fir tree, whose boughs interwove with those of the maple.

Here the bees didn't seem to notice him.