METAPHYSICS OF BEAR HUNTING. 371 



the torpid echoes from a sleep of ages. " He that feedeth 

 the young ravens !" I felt now the striking sublimity of 

 that figure. 



Dark-plumed spirit of the desolation, in what grim wild 

 hast thou thy home ? Thou hast snuffed the slaughter from 

 afar, and been coursing with death around the world. Yet 

 there are wide throats gaping with ravin in that foul nest 

 of thine. How dost thou live, and how art they fed, while 

 thou art crossing continents, the mate of famine ? Waugh ! 

 waugh! woo-a-ugh! he "tolled" again, and spread his black 

 wings and napped indignantly away ! The omen of his coming 

 is not ill to me ; where he goes there must be something to 

 live upon. 



It is no miracle that gives refreshing to these tireless 

 wings. Ha ! I have it. The snails ! Hays said the bears 

 came down to feed upon them. I rose, with new hope, 

 examined the ground about me, and, to my great joy found, 

 scattered here and there over the surface, quite a number 

 of snails, some of them as large as my thumb. Ah ! ha ! I 

 said, I should not starve ! and a gleam of exultant triumph 

 shot through my inmost soul. 



Defeated ! defeated ! I shouted, as I impiously shook my 

 clenched, paltry hand toward the fathomless wide heavens ; 

 I shall neither die of starvation, nor, unless I will it, at the 

 hands of the Indians. There is game in the hills to be had 

 for the shooting, but I do not choose to turn " root-digger," 

 as I should have to do when my ammunition gives out. I 

 burrow with my claws for the gratification of no one. The 

 first shot would bring the Comanches upon me, and I am 

 not ready for them yet ! I shall go back among men, and show 

 the cowards how much a haughty purpose can accomplish. 

 With nothing to creep behind, deer could not be approached 

 on the dead level of the plain before me. 



These snails, that ghostly-eyed, jolly old croaker has 

 helped me to, will last so long as the sterility and the sand 



