56 



RECREA TWN. 



shaft, and we were able to start afresh 

 the next day, thankful the accident had 

 occurred so near the Fort. 



As leader it was my duty to ride ahead 

 of the party every afternoon and select 

 a camping place for the night, where 

 there was good water and grass for the 

 horses. One fine evening, when about a 

 mile ahead, I saw a large bush in great 

 commotion, sbaking as if in a hard wind. 

 I approached to find out the cause of the 

 disturbance, when an immense grizzly 

 bear came out, rose up on his hind legs, 

 and looked at me, apparently as much 

 surprised as I was. My horse was 

 terrified, yet made no effort to run. 

 He simply stood still and trembled 

 violently, and I think I was about 

 as badly frightened as he was. For- 

 tunately for me my rifle was in a 



rather tight buffalo skin case, across the 

 pommel of my saddle, and I was unable 

 to get it out in time to shoot. If I had 

 done so, the chances are I should only 

 have wounded the bear, for my horse 

 shook so that I could not have gotten a 

 true aim. Old Ephraim seemed to me 

 to tower above my horse as he stood 

 up and inspected me ; but, after a few 

 whiffs, he seemed not to like my appear- 

 ance and started down the mountain 

 side, making 30 or 40 feet at a jump. 

 My horse was a fast runner, but going 

 down hill, the bear could go three feet 

 to my one. He was soon out of sight 

 and I had lost a bear. After that, I 

 carried my rifle without the skin case, 

 but two days later dropped it from the 

 saddle and broke the stock, which ended 

 its usefulness for that trip. 



(to be continued.) 



A MORNING RISE. 

 Walter M. Hazeltine. 



Under the fringe of woodland shading, 



Tilting out in wavering lines, 

 Over the lake in the unseen fading, 



Tremble the shadowy stubs of pines. 



Flashing across the bay of shadow, 

 A crimson sun-path wavers down, 



Where the ripples dance and toss and tumble, 

 Opal, and pearl, and golden brown. 



Tiny waves that leap and sparkle, 

 Catching the gold of the rising sun, 



Tossing it back to a cheerful measure, 

 Losing it deep in a cave of dun. 



Out of the meshes of the sun-path, 

 Tipsy, woven in changing way, 



The sudden leap of a golden beauty, — 

 King of the mountain lake, at play. 



Only a flash, and the eddying cadence, 

 Weaves away like a silver bow, 



Fading, lost in the perfect silence, 



Drowned in the mirror of molten snow. 



