ir
night watch, finished his career.

'Well done, Bob!' when, after a run of thirty yards or so, they stood
beside the prostrate enemy; 'you've won our first bear-skin. Now we
shall see what the paws are like, in the way of eatables; don't you say
they're delicious, Holt?'

Borne upon two strong poles, the bear made his way up to the shanty, and
was housed for the rest of the night. Poor Andy was found to be severely
scratched by the long sharp claws. 'Sure I'm glad 'twas none of yerselves
he tuk to huggin',' said the faithful fellow; 'an' scrapin' as if 'twas
a pratie he wanted to peel!'

He had his revenge on the forepaws next morning when Mr. Holt cut them
off, some time before breakfast, and set them in a mound of hot ashes
to bake, surrounding and crowning them further with live coals. Bruin
himself was dragged outside into the snow, preparatory to the operation
of skinning and cutting up into joints of excellent meat.

'Do you know, I saw an amazing resemblance to a fur-coated man, as he
stood up last night before Robert's shot,' said Arthur.

'You're not the first to see it,' replied Holt. 'The Indians call
him "the forest man," and the Lower Canadians the "bourgeois;" they
attribute to him a sagacity almost human; the Crees and Ojibbeways fancy
him an enchanted being, and will enter into conversation with him when
they meet in the woods.'

'Yet they take an unfair advantage of his paws.'

'That's true: my cookery must be almost done.' And he re-entered the hut
to dish up his dainty. 'Come, who'll feast with me?'

'Appearances are much against them,' said Robert, eyeing the
charcoal-looking paws, which presented soles uppermost on the trencher.
Mr. Holt scooped out a portion on to his own plate, and used no further
persuasion.

''Twould never do not to know the taste of bear's paw,' said Arthur, as
if winding himself up to the effort of picking a small bit. Mr. Holt was
amused to see the expression of enlightened satisfaction that grew on
his face. 'Oh, Bob, 'tis really capital. That's only a prejudice about
its black look,' helping himself again. 'The Indians aren't far removed
from epicures, when this is their pet dish.'

'Well,' observed Mr. Holt, filling his horn cup with tea from the
kettle, 'they equally relish fried porcupines and skunks; but some of
their viands might tempt an alderman--such as elk's nose, beaver's tail,
and buffalo's hump.'

'Holt,' said Arthur, scooping the paw a third tim