Buffalo rib.
Nothin' better, hot or cold, except marrow-bones; but then, you see,
marrow-bones ain't just parfection unless hot, an' this is bound to be a
cold supper. Hunk o' pemmican. A safe stand-by at all times. Don't
need no cookin', an' a just proportion o' fat to lean, but doesn't do
without appetite to make it go down. Let me be thankful I've got that,
anyhow."

At this point Little Tim thought it expedient to make the line of his
net fast to this limb of the tree. After doing so, he examined the
priming of his gun, made a few other needful arrangements, and then gave
himself up to the enjoyment of the hour, smiling benignly to the moon,
which happened to creep out from behind a mountain peak at the time, as
if on purpose to irradiate the scene.

"It has always seemed to me," muttered the hunter, as well as a large
mouthful of the prairie hen would permit--for he was fond of muttering
his thoughts when alone; it felt more sociable, you see, than merely
thinking them--"It has always seemed to me that contentment is a grand
thing for the human race. Pity we hasn't all got it!"

Inserting at this point a mass of the hunk, which proved a little too
large for muttering purposes, he paused until the road was partially
cleared, and then went on--"Of course I don't mean that lazy sort o'
contentment that makes a man feel easy an' comfortable, an' quite
indifferent to the woes an' worries of other men so long as his own
bread-basket is stuffed full. No, no. I means that sort o' contentment
that makes a man feel happy though he hasn't got champagne an' taters,
pigeon-pie, lobscouse, plum-duff, mustard an' jam at every blow-out;
that sort o' contentment that takes things as they come, an' enjoys 'em
without grumpin' an' growlin' 'cause he hasn't got somethin' else."

Another hunk here stopping the way, a somewhat longer silence ensued,
which would probably have been broken as before by the outpouring of
some sage reflections, but for a slight sound which caused the hunter to
become what we may style a human petrifaction, with a half-chewed morsel
in its open jaws, and its eyes glaring.

A few seconds more, and the sound of breaking twigs gave evidence that a
visitor drew near. Little Tim bolted the unchewed morsel, hastily
sheathed his hunting-knife, laid one hand on the end of his line, and
waited.

He had not to wait long, for out of the woods there sauntered a grizzly
bear of such proportions that the