90 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 
have taken a part with Bowieknife myself, when the bear 
rose to the surface. But the varmint staid under— 
Bowieknife came up alone, more dead than alive, and 
with the pack came ashore. 
“¢ Thank God!’ said I, ‘the old villain has got his 
deserts at last.’ 
“Determined to have the body, I cut a grape-vine 
for a rope, and dove down where I[ could see the bear 
in the water, fastened my rope to his leg, and fished him, 
with great difficulty, ashore. Stranger, may I be 
chawed to death by young alligators, if the thing I 
looked at wasn’t a she bear, and not the old critter 
after all. 
‘The way matters got mixed on that island was on- 
accountably curious, and thinking of it made me more 
than ever convinced that I was hunting the devil him- 
self. I went home that night and took to my bed— 
the thing was killing me. The entire team of Arkan- 
saw in bear-hunting acknowledged himself used up, and 
the fact sunk into my feelings as a snagged boat will in 
the Mississippi. I grew as cross as a bear with two cubs 
and a sore tail. The thing got out’mong my neigh- 
bors, and I was asked how come on that individ-u-al 
that never losta bear when once started? and if that 
same individ-u-al didn’t wear telescopes when he turned 
a she-bear, of ordinary size, into an old he one, a little 
larger than a horse ? 
“¢ Prehaps,’ said I, ‘ friends’—getting wrathy—< pre- 
haps you want to call somebody a liar ?’ 
