coming on the run. It was an in- 

 describable moment. That creature 

 coming on on nearer and me 

 waiting to kill him, if I could. 



Once the faint noises that told of 

 his progress, stopped And we won- 

 dered anxiously if it could have been 

 a bear we had heard. Or perhaps 

 the bull was waiting for another 

 call. But the slashing of bushes and 

 breaking of sticks began again, louder 

 than ever. Then we heard grunts! 

 He was coming closer and closer 

 awful moments, but I would not let 

 myself think. I simply sat there 

 grim, tense, ready, until he should 

 burst into the open. When he did, 

 he seemed to fill the whole horizon. 

 I had no need to ask about the great 

 forest on his head which he tossed 

 about like feathers, as up and down 

 in the oozy, log-choked bog he on- 

 ward strode. Through the swale 

 straight toward us he came half- 

 way, and paused. A tighter grip 

 clutched my heart now. I stood 

 up in the canoe, George and Bobbie 

 strained to hold it steady. I could 

 see him better thus over the marsh 

 grass. Eighty yards, perhaps, I 



