was not at all good, but his memory 

 for smells was imperishable. He had 

 forgotten Bonamy's cur, but the smell 

 of Bonamy's cur would instantly have 

 thrilled him with the old feelings. He 

 had forgotten the cross ram, but the 

 smell of "Old Woolly Whiskers" would 

 have inspired him at once with anger 

 and hate; and one evening when the 

 wind came richly laden with ram smell 

 it was like a bygone life returned. He 

 had been living on roots and berries 

 for weeks and now began to experience 

 that hankering for flesh that comes on 

 every candid vegetarian with danger- 

 ous force from time to time. The 

 ram smell seemed an answer to it. 

 So down he went by night (no sensible 

 Bear travels by day), and the smell 

 brought him from the pines on the hill- 

 side to an open rocky dale. 



Long before he got there a curious 



