ANTOINE GARDAPEE. 213 



sleep when he isn't sleepy; there's nothing queer in that. 

 Near daylight I was startled by the tramp of some 

 animal, and I sat up and listened. The sound came 

 from the stream below, which glinted in the starlight, 

 and I made out a moving form going down stream. I 

 thought it must be a bear, and if I could kill it then life 

 would be worth living, if only to tell of it. I stood up 

 in the hollow of the great tree, and tried to get the rifle 

 sights in line with the animal's forequarters, but the dif- 

 fused light from snow and stars made it seem impossible 

 to tell where the gun was sighted. The thing stopped; 

 it had probably scented my camp, and partly at random 

 I fired. A mingled cry and growl, a floundering in the 

 snow and a hasty reloading of the rifle followed. On 

 reaching the spot, not more than fifty yards distant, blood 

 could be seen on the snow and I followed. Morning 

 was visible in the east, and by the time the sun was up 

 I had run down my game, which was weak from copious 

 bleeding. It turned at bay. It was not a bear, but what 

 could it be? It made a feeble charge on me, which I 

 dodged, and then dropped it with a bullet in the head. 

 Now that it was dead I had no idea what it could be. 

 Of lions, tigers, elephants and other animals of Asia and 

 Africa I had knowledge, but here was a beast in an 

 American forest of which I had never heard nor read of in 

 my school books. It was bear-like, but not a bear. Its 

 body was heavy; its legs thick and clumsy; its tail bushy, 

 and it had a round head with eyes wide apart. The hair 

 was shaggy and thick, the color being almost black, with 

 a light stripe along the sides which met at the insertion 

 of the tail. It was about three feet long, and might have 

 weighed 150 pounds. This is how I remember it, and 

 under such circumstances a young fellow with tastes of 

 the naturalist notes such izhings. I skinned the beast, 



