48 CAMP-FIRES OF A NATURALIST. 



and it would have been a bad night for a bear had 

 one come across the trail. All night long, shivering 

 and longing for daylight, Dyche sat there, but never 

 a sound of bear was heard. The stillness was horrible. 

 Not an owl hooted and not a twig was snapped by 

 fox or wolf. The twittering of the early birds at last 

 announced the approach of day, and Dyche crawled 

 down, cold and benumbed, and made his way to 

 camp, where a hot breakfast soon reinvigourated him. 

 Again and still again was this ambush laid. A band 

 of deer went over the trail, and then a fox came and 

 smelled the bait but did not touch it, and a wildcat 

 came along and clawed around, but went on without 

 going near the bait. Dyche let them all go, as he 

 did not want to shoot and run the risk of scaring 

 away a bear. But no bear came. Soon after sun- 

 rise on the third morning Dyche crawled into camp 

 for a little breakfast and then hastened back. The 

 bear had been there during his absence. The old 

 fellow evidently came along a few seconds after 

 Dyche left, for he had eaten the whole of the bait 

 which had been left near the trail, and then had 

 scratched up the earth near by. To nish the per- 

 formance he had wallowed in the little stream and 

 passed on over the mountain. 



Dyche was tired, sleepy, sore, and stiff, but this 

 was too much for human endurance and he promptly 

 started on the broad trail left by the animal. The 

 bear went along, turning over logs, stones, and 

 stumps, looking for bugs. Here he wallowed in a 

 mud- hole to relieve himself from fleas, and there he 

 scratched up the earth or stretched himself up on 



