METAPHYSICS OF BEAR HUNTING, 3873 
their couches of “knot-grass, dew be-sprent,” prick their 
ears, toss their slight heads, whistle and bound away. The 
awkward cranes would stalk to and fro, gesticulate with 
their long necks, and croak; then stop, spread their broad 
wings, and go with. their long shanks dangling behind them. 
But I could never kill them; for, though hunger made me 
reckless at last, and I could fire, I would hear the shot 
rattle smong their thick feathers: but it availed nothing. 
They still sailed croaking off. 
These were the only living things, except “horned frogs,” 
that IF saw; and while my strength held out, I would chase 
the last, nimble, ugly little creatures, with an eagerness 
inconceivable. Yes, there were wolves, too; but they are 
minions of the devil, not honest, living things. Some of 
them were on my trail all the time, determined to be in at 
the death. Oh, how fiercely I hated them. I tried all 
manner of devices to lure them within gun-shot, but it was 
of no avail. They were too subtle. The hairy ghouls! 
they have the “second sight.” They can see death before 
he strikes, and they will slink and creep with horrid patience 
in his wake, for one lap of blood. It would make me shiver 
to turn and see them, like my shadow, forever trailing me. 
And then at night they would sit around and howl and moan 
for hours and hours, as if they were determined I should learn 
my own requiem by heart! 
Snails and water were becoming yet more difficult to obtain, 
and I weaker and weaker every hour. Still Iatravelled on, 
though my gait was staggering. I had drawn my hunger- 
belt, until I looked like a wasp. My senses begame painfully 
acute. The clang of a crane’s wing, or his croak as he rose, 
would thump and crash against my tympanum like thunder, 
and roar through my brain in reverberations for minutes 
after. The earth’s smell became rank and oppressive; and 
when the breeze swept by, it sounded like the whirring of 
