TEEEING A BEAB. 81 



brush, concealed everything. We could see 

 neither bear nor boy. 



This Oregon is a damp country, warm 

 and wet; nearly always moist and humid, 

 and so the trees are covered with moss. 

 Long, gray, sweeping moss swings from the 

 broad, drooping boughs of fir and pine and 

 cedar and nearly every bit of sunlight is 

 shut out in these canyons from one year's 

 end to the other. And it rains here nearly 

 half of the year; and then these densely 

 wooded canyons are as dark as caverns. I 

 know of nothing so grandly gloomy as 

 these dense Oregon woods in ttiis long 

 rainy season. 



I laid my ear to the ground after I got 

 a glimpse of my brother on the other side 

 of the canyon, but could hear nothing at all 

 but the beating of my heart. 



Suddenly there was a wild yell away up 

 in the dense boughs of a big mossy maple 

 tree that leaned over toward my side of 

 the canyon. I looked and looked with 

 eagerness, but could see nothing whatever. 



