"What's your gun doing up here?" exclaimed Sneak, coming down the path. Joe made no answer, but continued to rock backwards and forwards most dolefully.
"Why don't you speak? Where's the bar?"
"I don't know. Oh!" murmured Joe.
"What's the matter?" inquired Sneak, seeing the copious effusion of blood.
"I shot off that outrageous musket, and it's kicked my nose to pieces! I shall faint!" said Joe, dropping his head between his knees.
"Faint? I never saw a man faint!" said Sneak, listening to the chase below.
"Oh! can't you help me to stop this blood?"
"Don't you hear that, down there?" replied Sneak, his attention entirely directed to that which was going on in the valley.
"My ears are deafened by that savage gun! I can't hear a bit, hardly! Oh, what shall I do, Mr. Sneak?" continued Joe.
"Dod rot it!" exclaimed Sneak, leaping like a wild buck down the path, and paying no further attention to the piteous lamentations of his comrade.
Ere the bear reached the mouth of the glen, the hunters generally had come up, and poor Bruin found himself hemmed in on all sides. He could not ascend on either hand, the loss of blood having weakened him too much to climb over the almost precipitous rocks, and he made a final stand, determined to sell his life as dearly as possible. The dogs sprang upon him in a body, and it was soon evident that his desperate struggles were not harmless. He grasped one of the curs in his deadly hug, and with his teeth planted in its neck, relinquished not his hold until it fell from his arms a disfigured and lifeless object. He boxed those that were tearing his hams with his ponderous claws, sending them screaming to the right and left. He then stood up on his haunches, with his back against a rock, and with a snarl of defiance resolved never to retreat "from its firm base." Never were blows more rabidly dealt. When attacked on one side, he had no sooner turned to beat down his sanguine foe than he was assailed on the other. Thus he fought alternately from right to left, his mouth gaping open, his tongue hanging out, and his eyes gleaming furiously as if swimming in liquid fire. At times he was charged simultaneously in front and flank, when for an instant the whole group seemed to be one dark writhing mass, uttering a medly of discordant and horrid sounds. But determined to conquer or die on the spot he occupied, Bruin never relaxed his blows, until the bruised and exhausted dogs were forced to withdraw a moment the combat, and rush into the narrow rivulet. While they lay panting in the water, the bear turned his head back against the rocks, and lapped in the dripping moisture without moving from his position. But he was fast sinking under his wounds: a stream of blood, which constantly issued from his body and ran down and discoloured the water, indicated that his career was nearly finished. Yet his spirit was not daunted; for while the canine assailants he had withstood so often were bathing preparatory for a renewal of the conflict, Boone and Glenn, who had approached the immediate vicinity, fired, and Bruin, echoing the howl of death as the bullets entered his body, turned his eyes reproachfully towards the men for an instant, and then, with a growl of convulsed, expiring rage, plunged into the water, and, seizing the largest cur, crushed him to death. Ringwood and Jowler, whose sagacity had hitherto led them to keep in some measure aloof, knowing their efforts would be unavailing against so powerful an enemy without the fatal aim of their master, now sprang forward to the rescue, both seizing the prostrate foe by the throat. But he could not be made to relinquish his victim, nor did he make resistance. Boone, advancing at the head of the hunters, (all of whom, with the exception of Joe and Sneak, being there assembled,) with some difficulty prevented his companions from discharging their guns at the dark mass before them. He struck up several of their guns as they were endeavouring to aim at the now motionless bear, fearing that his hounds might suffer by their fire, and stooping down, whence he could distinctly see the pale gums and tongue, as his hounds grappled the neck of the animal, announced the death of Bruin, and the termination of the hunt. The hounds soon abandoned their inanimate victim, and its sinewy limbs relaxing, the devoted cur rolled out a lifeless body.
"How like you this specimen of our wild sports?" inquired Boone, turning to Glenn, as the rest proceeded to skin and dress the bear preparatory for its conveyance to the camp.
"It is exciting, if not terrific and cruel," replied Glenn, musing.
"None could be more eager than yourself in the chase,' said Boone.
"True," replied Glenn; "and notwithstanding the uninitiated may for an instant revolt at the spilling of blood, yet the chase has ever been considered the noblest and the most innocent of sports. The animals hunted are often an evil while running at large, being destructive or dangerous; but even if they were harmless in their nature, they are still necessary or desirable for the support or comfort of man. Blood of a similar value is spilt everywhere without the least compunction. The knife daily pierces the neck of the swine, and the kitchen wench wrings off the head of the fowl while she hums a ditty. This is far better than hunting down our own species on the battle-field, or ruining and being ruined at the gaming-table. I think I shall be content in this region."
"And you will no doubt be an expert hunter, if I have any judgment in such matters," replied Boone.
"I wonder that Joe has not yet made his appearance," remarked Glenn, approaching the bear; "I expected ere this to have seen him triumphing over his fallen enemy."
"What kind of a gun had he?" inquired Boone.
"A large musket," said Glenn, recollecting the enormous explosion that seemed to jar the whole woods like an earthquake; "it must have been Joe who fired—he had certainly overcharged the gun, and I fear it has burst in his hands, which may account for his absence."
"Be not uneasy," replied Boone; "for I can assure you from the peculiar sound it made that it did nothing more than rebound violently; besides, those guns very rarely burst. But here comes Sneak, (I think they call him so,) no doubt having some tidings of your man. It seems he has not been idle. He has a brace of racoons in his hands."
The tall slim form of Sneak was seen coming down the path. Ever and anon he cast his eyes from one hand to the other, regarding with no ordinary interest the dead animals he bore.
"I did not hear him fire," remarked Glenn.
"He may have killed them with stones," said Boone; and as Sneak drew near, he continued, with a smile, "they are nothing more than a brace of his terriers, that doubtless Bruin dispatched, and which may well be spared, notwithstanding Sneak's seeming sorrow."
Sneak approached the place where Boone and Glenn were standing, with the gravest face that man ever wore. His eyes seemed to be set in his head, for not once did they wink, nor did his lips move for some length of time after he threw down the dogs at the feet of Glenn, although several men addressed him. He stood with his arms folded, and gazed mournfully at his dead dogs.
"The little fellows fought bravely, and covered themselves with glory," said Glenn, much amused at the solemn demeanour of Sneak.
"If there ain't more blood spilt