Joe and Gilbert had crossed the river meantime and were landing
near our canoe. The stream turned abruptly round the foot of the
hill close to them, and I wondered what would happen when Bruin
appeared suddenly round the bend. Evidently Bruin had the best
eyes--or nose--for, on coming to the bend, he turned suddenly and
started back up-stream; but again changing his mind he made up over
the hill where we had first seen him. I was still panting and
trembling with the exertion of my climb, but I took out my revolver
and sent a few shots after him. It is hardly needful to say they
did not hurt the bear. When Job and Gilbert came up with the
rifles to where we were standing he was just disappearing over the
top of the hill, having apparently been little injured, and so the
chase was not followed up.
Our camp that night was on a high sand-bank on the north shore of
the river. The place chosen looked rough and unpromising to me,
for the ground was thickly strewn with windfalls. All this part of
the country had been burned over many years ago, and was very
desolate looking. The men, however, pronounced the place "Ma-losh-
an! Ma-losh-an!" (fine! fine!) and in less than an hour the tents
were pitched and made comfortable.
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