flooded　our　shanty　with　its　warm　glow。　what　with　the　light；　and　the　boughs　under　us；　and　the　strangeness　of　the　black　forest　we　got　little　sleep。　I　heard　the　gun　roar　late　in　the　night；　and　when　I　woke　again　Uncle　Eb　and　Tip　Taylor　were　standing　over　the　fire　in　the　chilly　grey　of　the　morning。　A　dead　deer　hung　on　the　limb　of　a　tree　near　by。　They　began　dressing　it　while　Gerald　and　I　went　to　the　spring　for　water；　peeled　potatoes；　and　got　the　pots　boiling。　After　a　hearty　breakfast　we　packed　up；　and　were　soon　on　the　road　again；　reaching　Blueberry　Lake　before　noon。　There　we　hired　a　boat　of　the　lonely　keeper　of　the　reservoir；　found　an　abandoned　camp　with　an　excellent　bark　shanty　and　made　ourselves　at　home。
  That　evening　in　camp　was　one　to　be　remembered。　An　Thomas；　the　guide　who　tended　the　reservoir；　came　over　and　sat　beside　our　fire　until　bedtime。　He　had　spent　years　in　the　wilderness　going　out　for　nothing　less　important　than　an　annual　spree　at　circus　time。　He　eyed　us　over；　each　in　turn；　as　if　he　thought　us　all　very　rare　and　interesting。
  'Many　bears　here？'　Uncle　Eb　enquired。
  'More　plenty　'n　human　bein's；'　he　answered；　puffing　lazily　at　his　pipe　with　a　dead　calm　in　his　voice　and　manner　that　I　have　never　seen　equalled　except　in　a　tropic　sea。
  'See　'em　often？'　I　asked。
  He　emptied　his　pipe；　striking　it　on　his　palin　until　the　bowl　rang；　without　answering。　Then　he　blew　into　the　stem　with　great　violence。
  'Three　or　four　'n　a　summer；　mebbe；'　he　said　at　length。
  'Ever　git　sassy？'　Uncle　Eb　asked。
  He　whipped　a　coal　out　of　the　ashes　then　and　lifted　it　in　his　fingers　to　the　bowl　of　his　pipe。
  'Never　real　sassy；'　he　said　between　vigourous　puffs。　'One　stole　a　ham　off　my　pyazz　las'　summer；　Al　Fifield　brought　't　in　fer　me　one　day　…smelt　good　too！　I　kep'　savin'　uv　it　thinlan'　I'd　enjoy　it　all　the　more　when　I　did　hev　it。　One　day　I　went　off　cuttin'　timber　an'　stayed　'til　mos'　night。　Comin'　home　I　got　t'　thinkin'　o'　thet　ham；　an'　made　up　my　mind　I'd　hev　some　fer　supper。　The　more　I　thought　uv　it　the　faster　I　hurried　an'　when　I　got　hum　I　was　hungrier'n　I'd　been　fer　a　year。　when　I　see　the　ol'　bear's　tracks　an'　the　empty　peg　where　the　ham　had　hung　I　went　t'　work　an；　got　mad。　Then　I　started　after　thet　bear。　Tracked　'im　over　yender；　up　Cat　Mountin'。'
  Here　Ab　paused。　He　had　a　way　of　stopping　always　at　the　most　interesting　point　to　puff　at　his　pipe。　It　looked　as　if　he　were　getting　up　steam　for　another　sentence　and　these　delays　had　the　effect　of　'continued　in　our　next'。
  'Kill　'im？'　Uncle　Eb　asked。
  'Licked　him；'　he　said。
  'Huh！'　we　remarked　incredulously。
  'Licked　'im；'　he　repeated　chucking。　'Went　into　his　cave　with　a　sledge　stake　an'　whaled　'im　…　whaled　'im　'til　he　run　fer　his　life。'
  Whether　it　was　true　or　not　I　have　never　been　sure；　even　to　this　day；　but　Ab's　manner　was　at　once　modest　and　convincing。
  'Should　'a　thought　he'd　'a　rassled　with　ye；'　Uncle　Eb　remarked。
  'Didn't　give　'im　time；'　said　Ab；　as　he　took　out　his　knife　and　began　slowly　to　sharpen　a　stick。
  'Don't　never　wan'　t'　rassle　with　no　bear；'　he　added；　'but　hams　is　too　scurce　here　'n　the　woods　t'　hev　'em　tuk　away　'fore　ye　know　the　taste　uv　'em。　I　ain't　never　been　hard　on　bears。　Don't　seldom　ever　set　no　traps　an'　I　ain't　shot　a　bear　fer　mor'n　'n　ten　year。　But　they've　got　t'　be　decent。　If　any　bear　steals　my　vittles　he's　goin'　t'　git　cuffed　bard。'
  Ab's　tongue　had　limbered　up　at　last。　His　pipe　was　going　well　and　he　seemed　to　have　struck　an　easy　grade。　There　was　a　tone　of　injury　and　aggrievement　in　his　talk　of　the　bear's　ingratitude。　He　snailed　over　his　whittling　as　we　laughed　heartily　at　the　droll　effect　of　it　all。
  'D'ye　ever　hear　o'　the　wild　man　'at　roams　'round'n　these　woods？'　he　asked。
  'Never　did；'　said　Uncle　Eb。
  'I've　seen　'im　more　times　'n　ye　could　shake　a　stick　at；'　said　Ab　crossing　his　legs　comfortably　and　spitting　into　the　fire。　'Kind　o'　thank　he's　the　same　man　folks　tells　uv　down　'n　Paradise　Valley　there　…　'at　goes　'round　'n　the　clearin'　after　bedtime。'
  'The　night　man！'　I　exclaimed。
  'Guess　thet's　what　they　call　'im；'　said　Ab。　'Curus　man！　Sometimes　I've　hed　a　good　squint　at　'im　off　'n　the　woods。　He's　wilder　'n　a　deer　an'　I've　seen　'im　jump　over　logs；　half　as　high　as　this　shanty；　jest　as　easy　as　ye　'd　hop　a　twig。　Tried　t'　foller　'im　once　er　twice　but　tain'　no　use。　He's　quicker　'n　a　wil'　cat。'
  'What　kind　of　a　lookin'　manis　he？'　Tip　Taylor　asked。
  'Great；　big；　broad…shouldered　feller；'　said　Ab。　'Six　feet　tall　if　he's　an　inch。　Hed　a　kind　of　a　deerskin　jacket　on　when　I　seen　'im　an'　breeches　an'　moccasins　made　o'　some　kind　o'　hide。　I　recollec'　one　day　I　was　over　on　the　ridge　two　mile　er　more　from　the　Stillwater　goin'　south。　I　seen　'im　gittin'　a　drink　at　the　spring　there　'n　the　burnt　timber。　An'　if　I　ain't　mistaken　there　was　a　real　live　panther　playin'　'round　'im。　If　't　wa'n't　a　panther　'twas　pesky　nigh　it　I　can'tell　ye。　The　critter　see　me　fast　an'　drew　up　'is　back。　Then　the　man　got　up　quickerin'　a　flash。　Soon　'she　see　me　…Jeemimey！　didn't　they　move。　Never　see　no　human　critter　run　as　he　did！　A　big　tree　hed　fell　'cross　a　lot　o'　bush　right　'n　his　path。　I'll　be　gol　dummed　if　'twan't　higher　'n　my　head！　But　he　cleared　it　…　jest　as　easy　as　a　grasshopper'd　go　over　a　straw。　I'd　like　t'　know　wher　he　comes　from；　gol　dummed　if　I　wouldn't。　He's　the　consamdest　queerest　animal　'n　these　woods。'
  Ab　emphasised　this　lucid　view　of　the　night　man　by　an　animated　movement　of　his　fist　that　held　the　big　hunting　knife　with　which　he　whittled。　Then　he　emptied　his　pipe　and　began　cutting　more　tobacco。
  'Some　says　'e　's　a　ghost；'　said　Tip　Taylor；　splitting　his　sentence　with　a　yawn；　as　he　lay　on　a　buffalo　robe　in　the　shanty。
  'Shucks　an'　shoestrings！'　said　An；　'he　looks　too　nat'ral。　Don't　believe　no　ghost　ever　wore　whiskers　an'　long　hair　like　his'n。　Thet　don't　hol'　t'　reason。'
  This　remark　was　followed　by　dead　silence。　Tip　seemed　to　lack　both　courage　and　information　with　which　to　prolong　the　argument。
  Gerald　had　long　been　asleep　and　we　were　all　worn　out　with　uphill　travelling　and　the　lack　of　rest。　Uncle　Eb　went　out　to　look　after　the　horses　that　were　tethered　near　us。　Ab　rose；　looked　up　through　the　tree…tops；　ventured　a　guess　about　the　weather；　and　strode　off　into　the　darkness。
  We　were　five　days　in　camp；　hunting；　fishing；　fighting　files　and　picking　blueberries。　Gerald's　cough　had　not　improved　at　all　…　it　was；　if　anything；　a　bit　worse　than　it　had　been　and　the　worry　of　that　had　clouded　our　holiday。　We　were　not　in　high　spirits　when；　finally　we　decided　to　break　camp　the　next　afternoon。
  The　morning　of　our　fourth　day　at　Blueberry　Uncle　Eb　and　I　crossed　the　lake；　at　daylight；　to　fish　awhile　in　Soda　Brook　and　gather　orchids　then　abundant　and　beautiful　in　that　part　of　the　woods。　We　headed　for　camp　at　noon　and　were　well　away　from　shore　when　a　wild　yell　rang　in　the　dead　timber　that　choked　the　wide　inlet　behind　us。　I　was　rowing　and　stopped　the　oars　while　we　both　looked　back　at　the　naked　trees；　belly　deep　in　the　water。
  But　for　the　dry　limbs；　here　and　there；　they　would　have　looked　like　masts　of　sunken　ships。　In　a　moment　another　wild　whoop　came　rushing　over　the　water。　Thinking　it　might　be　somebody　in　trouble　we　worked　about　and　pulled　for　the　mouth　of　the　inlet。　Suddenly　I　saw　a　boat　coming　in　the　dead　timber。　There　were　three　men　in　it；　two　of　whom　were　paddling。　They　yelled　like　mad　men　as　they　caught　sight　of　us；　and　one　of　them　waved　a　bottle　in　the　air。
  'They're　Indians；'　said　Uncle　Eb。　'Drunk　as　lords。　Guess　we'd　better　git　out　o'　the　way。'
  I　put　about　and　with　a　hearty　pull　made　for　the　other　side　of　the　lake；　three　miles　away。　The　Indians　came　after　us；　their　yells　echoing　in　the　far　forest。　Suddenly　one　of　them　lifted　his　rifle；　as　if　taking　aim　at　us；　and；　bang　it　went　the　ball　ricocheting　across　our　bows。
  'Crazy　drunk；'　said　Uncle　Eb；　'an'　they're　in　fer　trouble。　Pull　with　all　yer　might'
  I　did　that　same　putting　my　arms　so　stiffly　to　their　task　I　feared　the　oars　would　break
  In　a　moment　another　ball　came　splintering　the　gunwales　right　between　us；　but　fortunately；　wcll　above　the　water　line。　Being　half　a　mile　from　shore　I　saw　we　were　in　great　peril。　Uncle　Eb　reached　for　his　rifle；　his　hand　trembling。
  'Sink　'em；'　I　shouted；　'an'　do　it　quick　or　they'll　sink　us。'
  My　old　companion　took　careful　aim　and　his　ball　hit　them　right　on　the　starboard　bow　below　the　water　line。　A　splash　told　where　it　had　landed。　They　stopped　yelling。　The　man　in　the　bow　clapped　his　hat　against　the　side　of　the　boat。
  'Guess　we've　gin　'em　a　little　business　t'　ten'　to；'　said　Uncle　Eb　as　he　made　haste　to　load　his　rifle。
  The　Indian　at　the　bow　was　lifting　his　rifle　again。　He　seemed　to　reel　as　he　took　aim。　He　was　very　slow　about　it。　I　kept　pulling　as　I　watched　him。　I　saw　that　their　boat　was　slowly　sInking。　I　had　a　strange　fear　that　he　would　hit　me　in　the　stomach。　I　dodged　when　I　saw　the　flash　of　his　rifle。　His　ball　struck　the　water；　ten　feet　away　from　us；　and　threw　a　spray　into　my　face。
  Uncle　Eb　had　lifted　his　rifle　to　shoot　again。　Suddenly　the　Indian；　who　had　shot　at　us；　went　overboard。　In　a　second　they　were　all　in　the　water；　their　boat　bottom　up。
  'Now　take　yer　time；'　said　Uncle　Eb　coolly；　a　frown　upon　his　face。
  'They'll　drown；'　said　I。
  'Don't　care　if　they　do；　consam　'em