ed them
under his body and Uncle Denis and I carried him along, while Dio
brought the little dead bear on his back. The bear's flesh we carried
home was very acceptable, but our hunting expeditions had of late not
been so successful as before, many of the animals having migrated
southwards to escape the approaching winter.

At first Master Bruin was very snappish, but as he grew hungry, he was
glad to take a sup of goat's milk, which Uncle Denis gave him from a
bottle, and in a short time he gratefully received food from the hands
of anyone of us. He showed from the first great fondness for honey, to
which his mamma had probably accustomed him, or he may have inherited
the taste from her. Uncle Denis taking him in hand, taught him all
sorts of tricks, and before long he became a most tractable and
well-behaved bear.

A few days after we had captured "Bruno," Dan and I, with Uncle Denis,
accompanied by Dio, set off on a hunting expedition down the valley,
towards a broad river, which after feeding a large lake found its way
into the Missouri. It was itself fed by other streams which came down
from the mountain ranges, but varied greatly, according to the season of
the year. Sometimes they were mere rivulets; at others, they were
swelled by the melting snows. In case of becoming separated, we always
fixed on some well-marked spot, where we could assemble at an hour
agreed on, or at the end of the day's sport, either to camp or return
home. Dan and I always kept together. On this occasion we had lost
sight of Uncle Denis and Dio, though we heard their shots in the
distance.

We had found no deer, though we had killed some wild fowl on the banks
of the stream, when we heard, as we supposed, the report of our uncle's
gun, some way up it. We set off to try and rejoin him; twice again we
heard a shot in the same direction, but apparently further off. Still
we persevered, making our way as well as we could through the thick
wood.

Near the stream, willow, lime, and other water-loving trees grew to a
large size, with a fringe of thick reeds through which it was difficult
to penetrate.

After going some distance, we struck a trail, which we guessed was our
uncle's, certainly not that of an Indian, who would have been careful
where he trod, so as not to have crushed the grass, or broken off leaves
and twigs in his way. The trail, as we advanced, became more and more
clear, and we expected every moment to catch si