174 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 
In the far reaches down the river, there occasionally 
might be seen a bear stepping along the ground as if 
dainty of its feet; and, snuffing the intruder on his wild 
home, he would retreat into the woods. 
To enliven all this, and give the picture the look 
of humanity, there was also seen, struggling with the 
floating mists, a column of blue smoke, which came from 
a fire built on a projecting point of land, around which 
the current swept rapidly, hurrying past every thing 
that floated on the river. The eye of the boatmen saw 
the advantage which the situation of the place rendered 
to those on shore, to annoy and attack; and as wandering 
Indians, even in those days, did not hesitate to rob, there 
was much speculation as to what reception the boat 
would receive from the builders of the fire. 
The rifles were all loaded, to be prepared for any 
kind of reception, and the loss of Mike Fink was la- 
mented, as the prospect of a fight presented itself, where 
he could use with effect his terrible rifle. The boat in 
the mean time swept round the point; but instead of an 
enemy, there lay, ina profound sleep, Mike Fink, with 
his feet toasting at the fire, his pillow was a huge bear 
that had been shot on the day previous, while, scattered 
in profusion around him, were several deer and wild 
turkeys. 
Mike had not been idle. After selecting a place 
most eligible for noticing the passing boat, he had spent 
his time in hunting,—and was surrounded by trophies 
