AUDUBON—THE HUNTER-NATURALIST. 93 
I listened in breathless eagerness. I heard a gentleman near 
me say—‘ Mr. Audubon is last on the list; I fear he will not 
get a bed, we are so crowded!” 
I felt my heart leap. 
“What,” said I, leaning forward quickly, “is it possible 
Mr. Audubon can be aboard? I thought he was still on his 
Rocky Mountain tour!” 
“We are just returning, sir,” said the gentleman court- 
eously, half smiling, as he observed the excited expression of 
my face. 
“But, you are joking, are you not?” said I, hardly able to 
realize so much happiness. He cannot really be in this boat. 
Where? Which is he?” 
“He 7 actually in this very cabin,” said he, turning full 
upon me. 
“The man of all others in the world I wanted to see most,” 
I ejaculated, half inwardly. 
| “Well, there he is,” said the gentleman, laughing, as he 
pointed to a Suge pile of green blankets and fur which I had 
before observed stretched upon one of the benches, and took 
to be the fat bale of some Western trader. 
“What, that Mr. Audubon?” I exclaimed, naively. 
“Yes; he is taking a nap.” 
At that moment my name was called out by the Captain 
as entitled to the first choice of berths. 
“JT waive my right of choice in favor of Mr. Audubon,” 
was my answer. 
Now the green bale stirred a little—half turned upon its 
narrow resting-place, and, after awhile, sat erect, and showed 
me, to my no small surprise, that there was a man inside 
f it. 
A patriarchal beard fell, white and wavy, down his breast; 
a pair of hawk-like eyes gleamed sharply out from the fuzzy 
shroud of cap and collar. 
I drew near, with a thrill of irrepressible curiosity. The 
