A CHROMATIC BEAR HUNT 



"This has indeed been a glorious day, and 

 we'll make this bear hunt a success if it takes 

 all summer." We forbore to saddle them 

 with what lay upon our souls. 



We anchored in Big Bay as a three-o'clock 

 dawn crept over the southern range, only to 

 be awakened a few hours later by another 

 avalanche of pots and pans. The launch was 

 doing her morning hand stand, and I found a 

 streamlet of cylinder oil trickling down my 

 neck. Fred had been assaulted from ambush 

 by a sack of soft coal, while the cupboard had 

 hurtled a week's grub into the midst of Little's 

 dreams. Joe alone was unconscious of his 

 bedfellows, which comprised the rest of our 

 cargo ; he was slumbering on his back, snoring 

 like a sea lion at feeding time. 



A mile of tide flats glistened between us 

 and the shore; on every hand the hills were 

 white with desolate snow. Having dressed 

 stiffly, propped at various angles, we ate a 

 cold breakfast, for the stove would not draw, 

 and had it drawn we could not have held the 

 coffeepot against it; then Joe and I lowered 

 ourselves into the slime overside, for Little 

 had decided to stay with the launch until high 

 tide, while Fred's heels were blistered so that 



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