122 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 
whoop followed, that made our blood run cold. The la- 
dies present turned pale, and the commanding officer 
who had charge of the Indians, somewhat astonished, left 
the cabin. 
A momentary alarm seized upon us all. Could the 
old warrior’s death-song have incited mutiny !—Crack ! 
went another rifle outside,—and another shout ;—we 
could stand it no longer, but rushed on deck. 
What ascene! Not an Indian that was able, but 
was upon his feet, his eyes sparkling with fire, and his 
form looking as active as a panther’s. The sluggards 
of yesterday were sleek and nervous as horses at the 
starting post, so perfectly had a little excitement altered 
them. Their rifles, however, thank Heaven, were not 
turned upon the white man—their enemy was between 
the boat and the shore—in the water—in the form of a 
‘very large black bear. 
It was a beautiful sight to see the savage springing 
with a graceful bound, on some high place in the boat ; 
and raise his rifle to his eye, ;—before the report was 
heard you could mark a red furrow on the head of the 
bear, where it was struck by the ball as it passed its 
way through the skin and flesh without entering the 
bone, while the bear, at these assaults, would throw him- 
self half out of the water, brush over the smarting 
wound with his huge paw, and then dash on for life. 
Another shot, and another yell brought the bear on the 
defensive, and showed that he was dangerously wounded. 
