into my eyes with the calm dignity that no fool or braggart
can assume. He had been knighted. As he licked his wounds he was proud
of them. "Scars of battle, sir. You may have your swagger ribbons and
prize collars in the New York dog show, but _this_ for me!"

Poor Coaly! after two more years of valiant service, he was to meet an
evil fortune. In connection with it I will relate a queer coincidence:

Two years after this hunt, a friend and I spent three summer months in
this same old cabin on top of Smoky. When Andy had to return North he
left with me, for sale, a .30-30 carbine, as he had more guns than he
needed. I showed this carbine to Quill Rose, and the old hunter said: "I
don't like them power-guns; you could shoot clar through a bear and kill
your dog on the other side." The next day I sold the weapon to Granville
Calhoun. Within a short time, word came from Granville's father that
"Old Reelfoot" was despoiling his orchard. This Reelfoot was a large
bear whose cunning had defied our best hunters for five or six years. He
got his name from the fact that he "reeled" or twisted his hind feet in
walking, as some horses do, leaving a peculiar track. This seems rather
common among old bears, for I have known of several "reelfoots" in
other, and widely separated, regions.

Cable and his dogs were sent for. A drive was made, and the bear was
actually caught within a few rods of old Mr. Calhoun's stable. His teeth
were worn to the gums, and, as he could no longer kill hogs, he had come
down to an apple diet. He was large-framed, but very poor. The only
hunters on the spot were Granville, with the .30-30, and a northern
lumberman named Hastings, with a Luger carbine. After two or three shots
had wounded the bear, he rose on his hind feet and made for Granville. A
.30-30 bullet went clear through the beast at the very instant that
Coaly, who was unseen, jumped up on the log behind it, and the missile
gave both animals their death wound.

CHAPTER V

MOONSHINE LAND

I was hunting alone in the mountains, and exploring ground that was new
to me. About noon, while descending from a high ridge into a creek
valley, to get some water, I became enmeshed in a rhododendron "slick,"
and, to some extent, lost my bearings.

After floundering about for an hour or two, I suddenly came out upon a
little clearing. Giant hemlocks, girdled and gaunt, rose from a steep
cornfield of five acres, beyond which loomed the primeval