omposedly on they came together, step for step--now the three
right feet, now the three left feet--each as pat to the other's movement
as were they walking arm in arm. The next broad patch of moonlight
gained, brought them square abreast with the boy; and here, within easy
speaking distance, they came to a dead halt--the red moccasins and the
bear.

CHAPTER XI.

An Agreeable Disappointment.

"Sing a song of moccasins,
Pockets full of rye.
Four and twenty black bears.
Sniff! I smell a lie!"

So said the bear, in a nursery, sing-song tone of voice; then fetching a
quick sniff at the air, began peering about him--first this way, then
that way, then another way--every way, indeed, but straight at Sprigg.

"First behead the headsman,
Then we'll fry the friar;
Next we'll hang the hangman.
Snuff! I smell a liar!"

Again said the bear, still jingling out his words, and still stiffly
sniffing the air. He now looked down at the earth, then up at the moon,
then straight at Sprigg.

"Holloa!" he cried, abruptly modulating his voice into quite a different
key, "who sits here, at this late hour, on Manitou hill, hiding himself
from my moonshines?" And with these pleasant preliminaries to their
better acquaintances, his bearship seated himself upon his stump of a
tail, with his amiable muzzle directly confronting the boy, as though
he were in for a good, long talk and meant to be at his ease while so
engaged. He had the look of one who was conscious of being the possessor
of immense wisdom, and was accustomed to seeing whatever he might choose
to let drop from his sagacious jaw waited for, snatched at and borne
away as precious bits to be treasured up for lifelong use.

The moccasins daintily adjusted themselves beside the bear, the toe of
the left foot resting on the ground, with the heel turned upward, as if
the wearer were standing with his legs crossed, and with the left arm
thrown carelessly over the bear's shoulders. The attitude was,
doubtless, an easy and graceful one: too fine, indeed, to be all lost in
the air. But it pleased Sprigg exceedingly just as it was. It made him
feel that the bear could not be such a terrible fellow after all, if the
moccasins could make themselves so completely at home in his presence.

"Who, I say?" repeated the bear. "Who sits here at this late hour on
Manitou hill, hiding himself from my moonshine? What's wro