moonlight, her sturdy, naked legs revolving energetically beneath her
sparse nightgown, and the broom whirling vehemently around her head.
For a moment the bear had contemplated her with wonder. Then his
nerves had failed him. Doubtless, this was a woman--but not quite like
the ordinary kind. It was better, perhaps, to be careful. With a
reluctant grunt he had turned and fled, indifferent to his dignity.
And he had thought best not to stop until he found himself quite
beyond the range of Mrs. Gammit's disconcerting accents, which rang
harsh triumph across the solemn, silvered stillness of the forest.

It was, of course, this imminent peril to the pig which had roused
Mrs. Gammit to action and sent her on that long tramp over the
ridges to borrow Joe Barron's gun. In spite of her easy victory in
this particular instance, she had appreciated the inches of that
bear, and realized that in case of any further unpleasantnesses with
him a broom might not prove to be the most efficient of weapons.
With the gun, however, and her distinct remembrance of Joe Barron's
directions for its use, she felt equal to the routing of any number
of bears--provided, of course, they would not all come on together.
As the idea flashed across her mind that there might be a pack of
bears to face, she felt uneasy for a second, and even thought of
bringing the pig into the house for the night, and conducting her
campaign from the bedroom window. Then she remembered she had never
heard of bears hunting in packs, and her little apprehension vanished.
In fact, she now grew quite eager for night to bring the fray.

It was a favourite saw of Mrs. Gammit's that "a watched pot takes long
to bile"; and her experience that night exemplified it. With the
kitchen door ajar, she sat a little back from the window. Herself
hidden, she had a clear view across the bright yard. Very slowly the
round moon climbed the pallid summer sky, changing the patterns of the
shadows as she rose. But the bear came not. Mrs. Gammit began to
think, even to fear, that her impetuosity of the night before had
frightened him away. At last her reveries grew confused. She sat up
very straight, and blinked very hard, to make sure that she was quite
awake. Just as she had got herself most perfectly reassured on this
point, her head sank gently forward upon the window-sill, and she
slept deeply, with her cheek against the cold, brown barrel of the
gun.

Yes, the bear had hesitated long