204 WILD SPORTS IN THE SOUTH. 



ber, it remained intact, though an oily juice ran from the bunghole 

 and smeared Bruin's paws, who eagerly licked them dry. At 

 length, by a good deal of biting, he enlarged the bunghole so that 

 he could get a paw in, and by this means fished out the sweets, 

 holding the cask up with one arm, and dropping the other into it, 

 and then into his mouth, like a little negro on a molasses barrel. 

 But this mode of getting at the contents did not seem sufficiently 

 expeditious to little Tommy Horner, who presently getting up on 

 his feet, inserted his nose in the barrel, and then his head. A 

 bear's nose is very sharp, and goes through a small place very 

 easily, but does not have the same facilty for coming out, owing to 

 the hair and ears being set backward, and the heavy folds of skin 

 that hang around the neck. In this instance Bruin made the dis- 

 covery of this difference, and soon gave symptoms that he was fast. 

 He began to pull back, but as he pulled the barrel came with him, 

 until he rolled over on his back, pawing ineffectually with his 

 hands at the convex sides of the barrel, which revolved around his 

 head as on a pivot, but would not come off. Mike smiled out aloud, 

 and the negro yelled with laughter. The bear, hearing the sound 

 of our voices, probably increased by the reverberations in the 

 hollow barrel, took fright and ran for the woods, making directly 

 to where we were lying, and carrying the cask on his head like a 

 helmet. We could not have shot at that half-barrel, even had we 

 been able to fire our guns, which we were not from laughter, and 

 therefore scattered right and left as the animal rushed up the hill ; 

 as he crossed the conical peak he lost his foothold, and rolled head 

 over heels in our midst. Then picking himself up, he started in 

 the direction he happened to be when he regained his feet, and ran 

 directly into the sea. This turned him about again, when Yowler, 

 who had escaped from the negroes, seized him by a leg and forced 

 him to halt. At this he reared himself on end, and commenced 

 growling and waving his paws all the time, resembling more a 

 picture of Bacchus than a wild animal. We ran down to where 

 he was standing, when Scipio, with a blow of a club over the head, 

 broke the barrel, scattering the remains of mackerel with which it 

 had been filled, and released the animal from his confinement, who 

 rewarded the negro with a blow from his paw that knocked him on 



