SWIMMING WITH A BEAR. 65 



now, dropping down on all fours, with nose 

 close to the mossy butt of the log, it slowly 

 shuffled forward. 



That boy was the stillest boy, all this 

 time, that has ever been. Pretty soon the 

 bear reached the clothes. He stopped, sat 

 down, nosed them about as a hog might, 

 and then slowly and lazily got up; but with 

 a singular sort of economy of old clothes, 

 for a bear, he did not push anything off 

 into the river. 



What next? Would he come any farther? 

 Would he? Could he? Will he? The long, 

 sharp little nose was once more to the moss 

 and sliding slowly and surely toward the 

 poor boy's naked shins. Then the boy shiv- 

 ered and settled down, down, down on his 

 haunches, with his little hands clasped till 

 he was all of a heap. 



He tried to pray, but somehow or an- 

 other, all he could think of as he sat there 

 crouched down with all his clothes off was: 



"Now I lay me down to sleep." 



