t a pair of red eyes
gleaming through the dusk and he saw a wildcat treading lightly. But the
cat did not snarl or arch its back. Instead it moved away without any
sign of hostility and climbed a big oak, in the brown foliage of which
it was lost to Henry's sight. In his mind the thought grew stronger that
he was being accepted as a brother to the wild, and it gave him a
thrill, a compound of pleasure and of wonder. Had he really reverted so
far? It seemed to be so, for the time, at least.

He crawled back through the bushes to his lair, ate another portion of
the wild turkey and disposed his lodgings for the night, which he
foresaw was going to be cold, drawing the dead leaves into a heap with a
depression in the center, in which he could lie with the blanket over
him.

The full dark had now come, and, as he finished his bed, he heard a
light step which caused him to seize his rifle and sit silent, awaiting
a possible enemy. The light step was repeated once, twice, thrice, and
then stopped. But he knew it was not that of a human being. He had heard
the pad, pad of an animal too often to be mistaken, and his tension
relaxed, though he still waited.

He gradually made out an ungainly figure in the dusk, and then two small
red eyes. The figure moved about a little and the eyes seemed to
question. Henry smiled once more to himself. It was a large black bear,
and he knew instinctively that it had not come as an enemy. Its visit
was one of inquiry, perhaps of search for an old and comfortable home,
which it remembered dimly. As it stared at him, showing no sign of
fright and making no movement to run away, he knew then that he was in
truth in a former home of the bear.

He was sorry that he had dispossessed any one. He would not willingly
keep from his home a friendly and worthy black bear, but since it was
the only home of the kind he needed that he could find, he must keep his
place. The bear was not hunted as he was, and required less to give him
comfort and shelter. He could improvise elsewhere a home that would
suffice for him.

He waved his hand, but the bear did not withdraw, uttering instead a low
growl which had some of the quality of a purr, and which was not at all
hostile. Henry felt real grief at ousting such an amiable animal, and he
realized anew that he had become, in fact, a creature of the wild. It
was obvious that the bear looked upon him as a brother, else it would
have taken to hasty flight long si