BRINGING HOME THE BEAR . 
95 
inserted in the lashings, which were tied round 
the bear’s legs, and four of us, two on each side, 
or two in front and two behind, raised the body 
by these sticks and bore it through the winding 
path we had cleared while ascending. The 
lesser satellite, carrying the rifle, hatchet, and 
other luggage, brought up the rear, and urged 
on the party by jeering remarks and snatches of 
song. In spite of repeated cautions from the 
bear-slayer, whose stings still smarted, we nar¬ 
rowly escaped walking into the hornet’s nest a 
second time. 
More than six hours had elapsed since our 
departure from home when our little procession 
wound out of the woods into my dooryard. 
Raspberry vinegar never was more gratefully 
swallowed, and never was dead emperor received 
with more respect than poor Bruin by the 
crowds which flocked to view his remains dur¬ 
ing the afternoon of that hot August day. One 
bought his nails, another his teeth, a third his 
thinly haired skin, while pieces of his flesh, 
prepared for future cooking, were carried away 
in various directions. As when sugar is spilled 
upon the ground, ants come from every quarter 
to gather up the grains and draw them away, 
so dead Bruin drew gossips and idlers from all 
parts of the town, eager to pick up bits of his 
body or stories of his melancholy end. 
