SWIMMING WITH A BEAE. 67 



Then the boy, pale and trembling from 

 fright and the loss of blood, climbed up 

 the broken end of the log, got his clothes, 

 struggled into them as he ran, and so 

 reached camp. 



And he had not yelled! He tied up his 

 hand in a piece of old flour sack, all by him- 

 self, for the men had not yet got back; 

 and he didn't whimper! And what became 

 of the boy? you ask. 



The boy grew up as all energetic boys 

 do; for there seems to be a sort of special 

 providence for such boys 



And where is he now? 



Out in California, trapping bear in the 

 winter and planting olive trees in their sea- 

 son. 



And do I know him? 



Yes, pretty well, almost as well as any 

 old fellow can know himself. 



