92 TRUE BEAE STORIES. 



of it, and laid our little shoulders to the 

 hard work of helping father lift up the 

 long, heavy poles that were to complete 

 the corral around our pioneer log cabin, 

 and we really hoped and half believed that 

 he might bring home a little pet bear. 



This stout log corral had become an ab- 

 solute necessity. It was high and strong, 

 and made of poles or small logs stood on 

 end in a trench, after the fashion of a prim- 

 itive fort or stout stockade. There was 

 but one opening, and that was a very nar- 

 row one in front of the cabin door. Here 

 it was proposed to put up a gate. We also 

 had talked about port-holes in the corners 

 of the corral, but neither gate nor port- 

 holes were yet made. In fact, as said be- 

 fore, the serene and indolent man of the sea 

 always slowly walked away down through 

 the grass toward his untracked claim 

 whenever there was anything said about 

 port-holes, posts or gates. 



Father and we three little boys had only 

 got the last post set and solidly "tamped" 



