ndered the vision indistinct;
but Roland could see that the form was human, that it moved onwards with
rapid strides, and with its countenance bent upon the earth, or upon
another moving object, dusky and of lesser size, that rolled before it,
guiding the way, like the bowl of the dervise in the Arabian story; and,
finally, that it held in its hands, as if on the watch for an enemy, an
implement wondrously like the fire-lock of a human fighting-man. At
first, it appeared as if the figure was approaching the party, and that
in a direct line; but presently Roland perceived it was gradually bending
its course away to the left, its eyes still so closely fixed on its dusky
guide,--the very bear, as Roland supposed, which was said so often to
direct the steps of the Jibbenainosay,--that it seemed as if about to
pass the party entirely without observation.

But this it made no part of the young soldier's resolutions to permit;
and, accordingly, he sprang upon his horse, determined to ride forwards
and bring the apparition to a stand, while it was yet at a distance.

"Man or devil, Jibbenainosay or rambling settler," he cried, "it is, at
least, no Indian, and therefore no enemy. Holla, friend!" he exclaimed
aloud, and dashed forward, followed, though not without hesitation, by
his companions.

At the sound of his voice the spectre started and looked up; and then,
without betraying either surprise or a disposition to beat a mysterious
retreat, advanced to meet the soldier, walking rapidly, and waving his
hand all the while with an impatient gesture, as if commanding the party
to halt;--a command which was immediately obeyed by Roland and all.

And now it was, that, as it drew nigh, its stature appeared to grow less
and less colossal, and the wild lineaments with which fancy had invested
it, faded from sight, leaving the phantom a mere man, of tall frame
indeed, but without a single characteristic of dress or person to delight
the soul of wonder. The black bear dwindled into a little dog, the
meekest and most insignificant of his tribe, being nothing less or more,
in fact, than the identical Peter, which had fared so roughly in the
hands, or rather under the feet, of Roaring Ralph Stackpole, at the
Station, the day before; while the human spectre, the supposed fiend of
the woods, sinking from its dignity in equal proportion of abasement,
suddenly presented to Roland's eyes the person of Peter's master, the
humble, peaceful, ha