no apology is necessary. You are a Frenchman, I think?"

"Non, sair; not 'xactly. I be French Canadian. Mine fadder was be von
Canadian; mine moder was a Frenchvoman; I be leetle of both."

"And you have cause to be proud of your country, my man," returned the
artist, collecting his scattered drawing materials and quietly sitting
down to continue his sketch, "a splendid country and a noble people.
Sit down, my good friend, if you can spare time, while I put a few
finishing touches to this sketch."

"Mais," said Gibault, rubbing his nose in great perplexity at the
coolness of this eccentric wanderer; "mais, monsieur, I hab _not_ time;
I be follerin' de tracks of von monstracious grisly bar--"

"What! a grisly bear?" cried the artist, looking up with sudden
animation.

"Oui, monsieur. We have see him not long 'go, an' hopes to kill him
soon."

The artist's dark eye sparkled with animation as he hastily shut up his
sketch-book and thrust it, with his drawing materials, into a small
pocket inside the breast of his coat.

"A grisly bear!" he repeated. "Ha! lead on, good fellow, I will
follow."

Thus urged, Gibault, without further loss of time, led the way to the
banks of the river, followed closely by his new friend, who stalked
behind him with long ostrich-like strides. The semi-theatrical air of
the artist made a deep impression on the trapper. Had Gibault known
what a theatrical air was, he might have been immensely tickled; but,
being what he was--an unsophisticated son of the wilderness--he knew
nothing about such airs, and therefore regarded his companion in the
light of a superior order of being, or a madman; he was not quite sure
which.

In a few minutes they emerged from the bushes and came out upon the bank
of the river, which at that part was high and precipitous, with few
trees, but a considerable quantity of underwood on the slopes.

"Are you sure, friend, that a bear has been seen by you?" inquired the
artist.

"Oui; most positavly sure, sair. Ha! an' here be him's fut encore. I
have lose him in de vood. Now, monsieur, have your pistol ready."

"Lead on," returned the artist. "I have longed much for this day. To
shoot an individual of this ferocious class has been my ambition--Ho!
friend, look here. Yonder object seems like a canoe. Whence comes it,
think you? This region, I know, is not very safe. There are Indians
who do not love the whites in--"

"No fear, monsieur," inter