A BEAR IN THE CAMP. 25 



Lastly the raft was sent back empty, with Scipio to unfasten 

 the end of the rope. He, after casting off the rope, pulled himself 

 leisurely ashore with the slack line, and taking off the rope that 

 had been used in the construction of the raft, he followed us back 

 from the river to where we had pitched our camp for the night, 

 after clearing away the fallen leaves and sticks that there should 

 be no harbour for snakes. 



While coming through the canebrake, Mike, with an indication 

 of his finger, and a quiet smile, pointed out the plantigrade track 

 of a bear impressed in the soft mud ; his huge paw left a print 

 as though a man had walked by on his knees. The Doctor stepped 

 around his mark rather suspiciously, and, I noticed, looked back 

 at it as though suspecting his bearship might retrace his steps. 

 The dogs were still tied, and they threw up their noses and whined, 

 but it was too near night, and we would not let them loose. The 

 marsh was alive with ducks, and the white egret, with his long 

 crest, arose near us with a croak of surprise. Indeed, the whole 

 bottom was trodden up with the tracks of deer, turkey, and the 

 smaller game that find refuge in these close coverts. 



After making our camp, and as the darkness drew its curtains 

 around us, shutting in the bright firelight, and shutting out the 

 void of darkness beyond, all the natives of the forest and river 

 lifted up their voices in concert. Each bird or beast that dwelt 

 in these heavy brakes uttered his individual note, and while smok- 

 ing one's pipe, lying by the fire, the mind amused itself listening to 

 the confused cries, and distinguishing them one from the other. 

 The ducks quacked and fluttered in the marsh, the raccoon's plain- 

 tive call sounded its decrescendo from the wood, the honk of the 

 heron, the shrill clatter of the rail, the mournful howl of the wolf, 

 ascended in turn, or in a confused medley, now low, now high, as 

 the wind rose or fell, and all up and down the river the bellowing 

 of the alligator domineered over other cries with its huge volume 

 of noise. Then there were other sounds that played low accom- 

 paniments to the bass of the river. The occasional twitter of a 

 bird, the drops of the chinquapen nut, the patter of the dew fall- 

 ing from the trees, and the rustle of the leaves, all joined in the 

 nocturnal anthem, and entered into our souls by the Wakassare 



