irst day out, Rod was thrilled by
a crashing in the undergrowth scarcely a stone's throw from the canoe.
He could see saplings twisting and bending, and heard Wabi whisper
behind him:

"A moose!"

They were words to set his hands trembling and his whole body quivering
with anticipation. There was in him now none of the old hunter's
coolness, none of the almost stoical indifference with which the men of
the big North hear these sounds of the wild things about them. Rod had
yet to see his first big game.

That moment came in the afternoon. The canoe had skimmed lightly around
a bend in the river. Beyond this bend a mass of dead driftwood had
wedged against the shore, and this driftwood, as the late sun sank
behind the forests, was bathed in a warm yellow glow. And basking in
this glow, as he loves to do at the approach of winter nights, was an
animal, the sight of which drew a sharp, excited cry from between Rod's
lips. In an instant he had recognized it as a bear. The animal was taken
completely by surprise and was less than half a dozen rods away. Quick
as a flash, and hardly realizing what he was doing, the boy drew his
rifle to his shoulder, took quick aim and fired. The bear was already
clambering up the driftwood, but stopped suddenly at the report, slipped
as if about to fall back--then continued his retreat.

"You hit 'im!" shouted Wabi. "Quick-try 'im again!"

Rod's second shot seemed to have no effect In his excitement he jumped
to his feet, forgetting that he was in a frail canoe, and took a last
shot at the big black beast that was just about to disappear over the
edge of the driftwood. Both Wabi and his Indian companion flung
themselves on the shore side of their birch and dug their paddles deep
into the water, but their efforts were unavailing to save their reckless
comrade. Unbalanced by the concussion of his gun, Rod plunged backward
into the river, but before he had time to sink, Wabi reached over and
grabbed him by the arm.

"Don't make a move--and hang on to the gun!" he warned. "If we try to
get you in here we'll all go over!" He made a sign to the Indian, who
swung the canoe slowly inshore. Then he grinned down into Rod's
dripping, unhappy face.

"By George, that last shot was a dandy for a tenderfoot! You got your
bear!"

Despite his uncomfortable position, Rod gave a whoop of joy, and no
sooner did his feet touch solid bottom than he loosened himself from
Wabi's grip and plunged toward th