A SULLIVAN COUNTY TALE
Four men once came to a wet place in the roadless
forest to fish. They pitched their tent fair
upon the brow of a pine-clothed ridge of riven rocks
whence a bowlder could be made to crash through the
brush and whirl past the trees to the lake below.
On fragrant hemlock boughs they slept the sleep of
unsuccessful fishermen, for upon the lake alternately
the sun made them lazy and the rain made them wet.
Finally they ate the last bit of bacon and smoked
and burned the last fearful and wonderful hoecake.
Immediately a little man volunteered to stay and hold
the camp while the remaining three should go the Sullivan
county miles to a farmhouse for supplies. They
gazed at him dismally. “There’s only
one of you—the devil make a twin,”
they said in parting malediction, and disappeared
down the hill in the known direction of a distant cabin.
When it came night and the hemlocks began to sob they
had not returned. The little man sat close to
his companion, the campfire, and encouraged it with
logs. He puffed fiercely at a heavy built brier,
and regarded a thousand shadows which were about to
assault him. Suddenly he heard the approach of
the unknown, crackling the twigs and rustling the dead
leaves. The little man arose slowly to his feet,
his clothes refused to fit his back, his pipe dropped
from his mouth, his knees smote each other. “Hah!”
he bellowed hoarsely in menace. A growl replied
and a bear paced into the light of the fire.
The little man supported himself upon a sapling and
regarded his visitor.
The bear was evidently a veteran and a fighter, for
the black of his coat had become tawny with age.
There was confidence in his gait and arrogance in
his small, twinkling eye. He rolled back his lips
and disclosed his white teeth. The fire magnified
the red of his mouth. The little man had never
before confronted the terrible and he could not wrest
it from his breast. “Hah!” he roared.
The bear interpreted this as the challenge of a gladiator.
He approached warily. As he came near, the boots
of fear were suddenly upon the little man’s feet.
He cried out and then darted around the campfire.
“Ho!” said the bear to himself, “this
thing won’t fight—it runs. Well,
suppose I catch it.” So upon his features
there fixed the animal look of going—somewhere.
He started intensely around the campfire. The
little man shrieked and ran furiously. Twice
around they went.
The hand of heaven sometimes falls heavily upon the
righteous. The bear gained.
In desperation the little man flew into the tent.
The bear stopped and sniffed at the entrance.
He scented the scent of many men. Finally he
ventured in.
