2 Sporting Sketches 



lost forever while the seasons roll. The ear may 

 trace his progress by the straggling salute of small- 

 arms from the sentinel trees, which fire and stiffen 

 to attention ; by the long, booming roll of big guns 

 from icy plains in obedience to the order, " Salute 

 and solidify." Upon the roof of a trout pool the 

 bear halts. His round ear has caught the whisper- 

 ing giggle of water playing under the shelter of 

 some kindly root. The keen white nose is lowered 

 to the cavity ; the " Woof ! " of the blasting breath 

 thrills the interior, and the player ceases. 



Under the ice lie the trout, waiting, listening for 

 the tread of the bear which they know will surely 

 come. When the light above fails and the ice- 

 batteries boom, they feel his presence, and turning 

 noses to the failing stream, they bide the issue. To 

 them come mink and otter. Only these two can 

 outwit the bear. They know certain unfilled rivet- 

 holes in the icy armor and its occasional flaws. 

 Through these they slide to harry the helpless 

 quarry. 



But the bear has orders to obey. His business 

 is to see that the Law of the North is heeded. 

 When the rallied forces of the South again rush 

 northward, he must slowly fall back, disputing every 

 league of field until the last furious charge drives 

 him to the berg-piled, impregnable stronghold of 

 his king. 



Over the war-worn field stream the restored folk, 

 singing and making merry. But not far from its 

 southern rim they halt, half afraid, as the signs of 

 recent conflict are yet too fresli for timid hearts. 

 They halt and peer this way and that. " Is it a 



