In the Sierra 



common. Hawthorne, I fancy, could weave 

 one of his weird romances out of this little 

 telepathic episode, the one strange marvel 

 of my life > probably replacing my good 

 old Professor by an attractive woman. 



August 5. We were awakened this 

 morning before daybreak by the furious 

 barking of Carlo and Jack and the sound 

 of stampeding sheep. Billy fled from his 

 punk bed to the fire, and refused to stir 

 into the darkness to try to gather the scat- 

 tered flock, or ascertain the nature of the 

 disturbance. It was a bear attack, as we 

 afterward learned, and I suppose little was 

 gained by attempting to do anything be- 

 fore daylight. Nevertheless, being anxious 

 to know what was up, Carlo and I groped 

 our way through the woods, guided by the 

 rustling sound made by fragments of the 

 flock, not fearing the bear, for I knew that 

 the runaways would go from their enemy 

 as far as possible and Carlo's nose was also 

 to be depended upon. About half a mile 



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