132 ANOTHER CLOSE SHAVE/ 



and I gave way, like a child as I was, to a burst of 

 petulant impatience at the hopelessness of my posi- 

 tion. My late exertion and weakness again brought 

 on faintness, and I dreamed of home and the dear 

 mother so long gone to the spirit-land. Pain had 

 left me, and I was almost reconciled to die, when a 

 deep voice, driving cattle, "Gee, Buck," "Haw, Bright/' 

 struck upon my ear. In a few moments after, one of 

 the teamsters from the lumber camp was at my side. 

 My absence during the night had alarmed all, and 

 this man had taken my back-sled track, trusting 

 through that means to find my whereabouts. It was 

 many a month before I was fit for much. Youth and 

 a good constitution carried me, however, through, but 

 the scars I shall bear as mementos till my dying 

 day. 



' You have not much to do with wild beasts in 

 your land ; so 1 11 just tell you another close shave 

 I had, where luck and presence of mind carried 

 me through, when nothing else could have saved 

 me. 



'It was little over two years after the bear mauled 

 me, and I was again settled with a party of lumbermen 

 upon the upper waters of the Penobscot River. The 

 fall had glided on into winter, the birds had mi- 

 grated to warmer countries, and the woods were 

 deserted, except by the snow-bird, cross-bill, or noisy 

 woodpecker, for heavy snow had set in, and all the 

 country was covered with it as with a shroud. Still, 

 the frost had not been sufficiently severe to freeze the 



