By the Fireside 111 



liked venison an' seemed mighty glad to get it 

 an' before handin' me the butcherin knife he 

 whetted it up good and sharp. 



" 'Mind ye now, boy,' says he, 'don't be cuttin' 

 gads an' playin' fool tricks wi' that knife. No 

 throwin' it at trees to see if ye'd qualify for an 

 Indian Chief or a bloody cutthroat pirate.' 



"I promised to take good care o' this hog- 

 stickin' weepon an' it was a mighty good thing for 

 me that I did as things turned out. From the 

 days o' my infancy I had always a hankerin' to 

 nose around the woods, an' on my way home I 

 wandered some in the primeval forest. 



"Comin' to a big basswood stump I was hesi- 

 tatin' whether or not to carve my name when I 

 heer'd scratchin' inside. Mind ye, I was only 

 thirteen years old or thereabouts an' that scratch- 

 in' an' scramblin' I heer'd, kind o' scared me. 



"Then that there habit o' mine o' nosin' 'round 

 took holt o' me an' I stuck my ear ag'in the stub 

 and listened. There's somethin' lively in there 

 an', b'gosh, more'n likely it's a young b'ar, I 

 says to myself. Nachually bein' raised in the 

 woods, made me some interested in b'ars. 



"If there's a young b'ar in that stub, says I, 

 I got to have it. 



"Hangin' the empty sack about my neck I 

 shinnied up that stub an' peerin' down into the 

 dark holler I saw not one, but two young cubs. 

 They were little chaps about the size o' a woman's 

 muff. 



