somewhat, for whoever the great black hand belonged to was concealed by the thick bushes and their foliage from his view.  Presently, two great black hands were placed upon the log, and a huge black bear clambered lazily up, and, for a second, stood in utter amazement, face to face, and within fifty feet of my friend.  Both broke at the same instant, in affright; my friend in one direction, and the bear in the other—­my friend for the fields, and the bear for the deep woods—­and each as anxious as fear could make him to put a ’broad belt of country’ between them.  My friend dropped his basket, as he leaped from the log; it was no time to stop for a basket; a limb caught his hat and pulled it off; he had not time to stop for his hat.  The truth is, he was in a hurry, and something more than a hat or a basket was required to stay his progress towards home.”

“The Squire’s story,” said Cullen, as he knocked the ashes from his pipe, and commenced shaving a fresh supply of tobacco with his jack-knife, and depositing it in the palm of his left hand, “the Squire’s story reminds me of an adventer Crop and I met with, over towards St. Regis Lake, a good many year ago; and I’ll state the circumstances of the case, as the Judge would say.  It was an adventer that don’t happen often—­leastwise, not in the same way.  It made me understand some things that I hadn’t much idea of before.  Let me tell you, Judge, if you don’t want a fight with an animal that’s got long claws and sharp teeth, don’t come close upon him onawares, or may be there’ll be trouble.  Give him time to think, and ten to one he’ll take to his heels.  Most animals have more confidence in their legs than they have in their teeth and claws, and they’ll be very likely to use ’em, if you’ll give ’em time to consider.  But if you find a painter, or a bear, takin’ a nap in your path, and don’t want to have a clinch with him, wake him up before you get right onto him, or he’ll be very likely to think he’s cornered, and them animals have onpleasant ways with ’em when they’re in that fix.

“Wal, as I was sayin’, Crop and I was over on St. Regis Lake, layin’ in a store of jerked venison, and trappin’ martin, and mink, and muskrat, and huntin’ wolves, and sich other wild animals as came in our way.  The scalp of a wolf was good for fifteen dollars in them days, and a backload of furs was worth a heap of money.  We had a line of martin traps leadin’ back to the hills, and over into a valley beyond, where the animal was plentier than they were on our side.  In passin’ along this line, we had to round the end of a hill that terminated in a sharp point of rocks.  In a deep gully at its foot, a stream went surgin’ over rapids; the bank on the side towards the hill was, may be, twenty feet high, and a right up and down ledge.  Above this ledge, and between it and the rocky point, was a narrow path, only three or four feet wide, that turned short around the end of the hill.  On the left hand was the ledge, and at the bottom of it were broken rocks, and on the right was a bluff point of rocks, that made up the end of the hill, standin’ straight up, may be, fifty feet.  Around this point, the path turned sharp almost as your elbow.