e met. It seemed as if the whole ursine tribe must have
emigrated to Labrador.

At last we came to the mouth of the river, where it empties into Lake
Kenogami, in a comparatively civilized country, with several farm-houses
in full view on the opposite bank. It was not a promising place for the
chase; but the river ran down with a little fall and a lively, cheerful
rapid into the lake, and it was a capital spot for fishing. So we left
the rifle in the case, and took a canoe and a rod, and went down, on the
last afternoon, to stand on the point of rocks at the foot of the rapid,
and cast the fly.

We caught half a dozen good trout; but the sun was still hot, and we
concluded to wait awhile for the evening fishing. So we turned the canoe
bottom up among the bushes on the shore, stored the trout away in the
shade beneath it, and sat down in a convenient place among the stones
to have another chat about Quebec. We had just passed the jewelry shops,
and were preparing to go to the asylum of the orphans, when Patrick
put his hand on my shoulder with a convulsive grip, and pointed up the
stream.

There was a huge bear, like a very big, wicked, black sheep with a
pointed nose, making his way down the shore. He shambled along lazily
and unconcernedly, as if his bones were loosely tied together in a bag
of fur. It was the most indifferent and disconnected gait that I ever
saw. Nearer and nearer he sauntered, while we sat as still as if we had
been paralyzed. And the gun was in its case at the tent!

How the bear knew this I cannot tell; but know it he certainly did,
for he kept on until he reached the canoe, sniffed at it suspiciously,
thrust his sharp nose under it, and turned it over with a crash that
knocked two holes in the bottom, ate the fish, licked his chops, stared
at us for a few moments without the slightest appearance of gratitude,
made up his mind that he did not like our personal appearance, and then
loped leisurely up the mountain-side. We could hear him cracking the
underbrush long after he was lost to sight.

Patrick looked at me and sighed. I said nothing. The French language, as
far as I knew it, seemed trifling and inadequate. It was a moment when
nothing could do any good except the consolations of philosophy, or a
pipe. Patrick pulled the brier-wood from his pocket; then he took out
the cake of Virginia leaf, looked at it, smelled it, shook his head, and
put it back again. His face was as long as his arm