l as the bear's trail, and the two were again converging.

Just at that moment a loud shouting came from the direction of the
waggon. It was Lanty's voice, and Jake's too.

"Och! be the Vargin mother! luck there! Awch, mother o' Moses, Jake,
such a haste!"

"Golly, Massa Lanty, it am a bar!"

We all heard this at once. Of course we thought of the trail no longer,
but made a rush in the direction of the voices, causing the branches to
fly on every side.

"Whar's the bar?" cried Redwood, who was first up to the waggon, "whar
did ye see't?"

"Yander he goes!" cried Lanty, pointing to a pile of heavy timber, beset
with an undergrowth of cane, but standing almost isolated from the rest
of the forest on account of the thin open woods that were around it.

We were too late to catch a glimpse of him, but perhaps he would halt in
the undergrowth. If so we had a chance.

"Surround, boys, surround!" cried the Kentuckian, who understood
bear-hunting as well as any of the party. "Quick, round and head him;"
and, at the same time, the speaker urged his great horse into a gallop.
Several others rode off on the opposite side, and in a few seconds we
had surrounded the cane-brake.

"Is he in it?" cried one.

"Do you track 'im thur, Mark?" cried Ike to his comrade from the
opposite side.

"No," was the reply, "he hain't gone out this away."

"Nor hyur," responded Ike.

"Nor here," said the Kentuckian.

"Nor by here," added the hunter-naturalist.

"Belike, then, he's still in the timmor," said Redwood. "Now look out
all of yees. Keep your eyes skinned; I'll hustle him out o' thar."

"Hold on, Mark, boy," cried Ike, "hold on thur. Damn the varmint!
hyur's his track, paddled like a sheep pen. Wagh, his den's hyur--let
me rout 'im."

"Very wal, then," replied the other, "go ahead, old fellow--I'll look to
my side--thu'll no bar pass me 'ithout getting a pill in his guts. Out
wi' 'im!" We all sat in our saddles silent and watchful. Ike had
entered the cane, but not a rustle was heard. A snake could not have
passed through it with less noise than did the old trapper.

It was full ten minutes before the slightest sound warned of what he was
about. Then his voice reached us.

"This way, all of you! The bar's treed."

The announcement filled all of us with pleasant anticipations. The
sport of killing a bear is no everyday amusement, and now that the
animal was "treed" we were sure of him. Some dismounted