A BEAR IN THE CAMP. 43 



and taking off the rope that had been used in the con- 

 struction of the raft, he followed us back from the river 

 to where we had pitched our camp for the night. 



While coming through the canebrake, Mike, with an 

 indication of his finger, and a quiet smile, pointed out the 

 track of a bear impressed in the soft mud ; his huge paw 

 and leg left a print as though a man had walked by 

 on his knees. The Doctor stepped around his mark 

 rather suspiciously, and, I noticed, looked back at it as 

 though suspecting his bearship might retrace his steps. 

 The dogs were still tied, and they threw up their noses 

 and whined piteously, but it was too near night, and we 

 would not let them loose. The marsh was alive with 

 ducks, and the grey egret, with his long crest, would 

 constantly rise around us with a whoop of surprise. 

 Indeed, the whole bottom was trodden up with the tracks 

 of deer, turkey, and the smaller game that find refuge in 

 these close coverts. 



After making our camp, and as the darkness drew its 

 curtains around us, shutting in the bright firelight, and 

 shutting out the void of darkness beyond, all the natives 

 of the forest and river lifted up their voices in concert. 

 Each bird or beast that dwelt in these heavy brakes 

 uttered his individual note, and while smoking one's 

 pipe, lying by the fire, the mind amused itself lis- 

 tening to the confused cries and distinguishing them one 

 from the other. The ducks quacked and fluttered in the 

 marsh, the raccoon's plaintive call sounded its decrescendo 

 from the wood, the honk of the heron, the shrill clatter 



