THE BLACK BEAR OF MUSKOKA 75 



followed mysterious tracks. Sometimes he calmly 

 informed me that a large bear had gone ahead 

 of us only a minute since, or he would hold up 

 his hand for silence as the whirr of wings or a 

 strange drumming broke the stillness of the forest. 

 On more than one occasion during his absence 

 I heard unpleasant noises of snapping twigs and 

 deep-drawn breath, and when in my excite- 

 ment I raised my rifle to aim blindly into the 

 bush, the branches would part aside and my 

 rough companion appear, rarely empty-handed. 

 His amusement at my apparent terror of meeting 

 a bear made me feel ashamed, and soon he 

 worked me up to such a state that before we 

 arrived at the lake, I believe, had a bear appeared, 

 I should have pursued him with a stick. I could 

 not help feeling what a coward and inferior man 

 I was to this fearless, half-civilised young hunter. 

 Never shall I forget my surprise when we arrived 

 at Trout Lake. My guide had previously 

 pressed my arm and pointed with his finger to 

 the silvery water. We both approached cautiously. 

 The sun was shining brightly and lighting up 

 every creek and bay of this romantic spot. Some 

 distance up the lake a loon swam about uttering 

 at intervals a quivering cry, and along the reed 



