With Gun S# Rod in Canada 



" It's a porcupine," exclaimed one, sneeringly. 



" You're a great hunter," joshed another to the unseen 

 watcher on the roof. 



At this point the " porky," evidently resenting the 

 contemptuous tone, ambled sulkily and indifferently 

 away, quite unhurt. 



" Didn't even hit him," jeered a third. 



" Well, what'll we do now ? No bear will come within 

 a mile of this place to-night after all this shooting and 

 uproar." 



Being one of the interested reserves, I suggested that 

 we had all better turn in and get a good night's sleep 

 and watch for the bear the next night. 



At daylight the next morning the cook shook me awake 

 with the startling information that the pan of molasses 

 had been neatly licked dry, and the tracks of the old bear 

 and cubs were plainly to be seen around the rock. An 

 immediate investigation discovered the spot-light burn- 

 ing brightly and the trigger line broken. As the battery 

 in the flash-light was advertised to burn two hours with a 

 steady light, the bear had evidently visited the spot 

 shortly before daybreak. 



A council of war at the breakfast table was the occasion 

 for many brilliant schemes being suggested to trap the 

 bold and cunning thief. The result of this powwow was 

 that we set two big bear-traps, carefully covered with 

 leaves, in the conventional log pen some hundred yards 

 from the camp in an alder swamp, and baited it with a 

 " peeled " porcupine and garnishings of brown sugar 

 and molasses. We also decided to rig up a flash-light 

 and pan of molasses in the same spot we had had them 

 the previous night, and take turns in watching and 

 listening from the roof of the cook-room. 



That afternoon, as Ralph and I were driving the black 

 colt out to Caledonia for the mail, we met two curious 



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