160 PRAIRIE AND FOREST. 



in a six-inch sapling. Where was the mother? Answer 

 says, "Don't know;" for young Bruin, after a vixenish 

 fight, was secured, and, although half- an- hour elapsed in 

 the operation, the old lady still remained non est. 



It is very common for bears to be killed after they have 

 retired to their dormitory for the winter sleep. When 

 living near Lake Couchachin, in Canada, I assisted on 

 such an occasion. An Indian from Rama came to me in 

 great haste, with the hope I would sell him some ammu- 

 nition. From his earnestness and anxiety I knew that he 

 had made a valuable discovery, which after a little higgling 

 was disclosed. He had found a bear's retreat in a hollow 

 log, nearly imbedded in snow, and the ammunition was for 

 poor Bruin's destruction. 



Stipulating that I should have a share of the sport, I 

 supplied the ammunition, and we started. The distance 

 was short. Mr. Chippewa Indian knocked on the log, and 

 the writer stood at the entrance. Poor Bruin at length 

 forsook his snug retreat, yawning and looking stupid as 

 he emerged into daylight, when a bullet at less than five 

 yards settled the matter. When a bear is thus housed 

 in a log, a heavy vapour of steam, should the weather be 

 calm, perceptibly hangs over it. 



A friend, in the true sense of the word, and myself 

 heard of a small lake on the edges of New Hampshire 

 and Maine, that was reported to swarm with trout, and, 

 as a tramp through the wild timber-lands was never 

 objectionable, we determined to make an effort to find it 

 out. An old lumberman, long superannuated, gave us 

 our instructions thus: "First go through- the wood two 



