, starin' at the b'ar ez it sailed on up to'rd
me. The b'ar were making a desper't effort to git itself back to its
nat'ral p'sition on all fours, but th' wa'n't no use, an' up he sailed,
tail foremost, an' lookin' ez if he were gointer bust the next minute,
he were swelled out so. Ez the b'ar bobbed up and passed by me I could
ha' reached out an' grabbed him by the paw, an' I think he wanted me to,
the way he acted, but I couldn't ha' made a move to stop him, not if
he'd ha' ben my gran'mother. The b'ar sailed on above me, an' th' were a
look in his eyes th't I won't never fergit. It was a skeert look, an' a
look that seemed to say th't it were all my fault, an' th't I'd be sorry
fer it some time. The b'ar squirmed an' struggled agin comin' to setch
an' onheerdon end, but up'ard he went, tail foremost, to'ard the clouds.

"I stood thar par'lyzed w'ile the b'ar went up'ard. The crows that had
been settlin' round in the trees, 'spectin' to hev a bully meal, went to
flyin' an' scootin' around the onfortnit b'ar, an' yelled till I were
durn nigh deef. It wa'n't until the b'ar had floated up nigh onto a
hundred yards in the air, an' begun to look like a flyin' cub, that my
senses kim back to me. Quick ez a flash I rammed a load inter my rifle,
wrappin' the ball with a big piece o' dry linen, not havin' time to tear
it to the right size. Then I took aim an' let her go. Fast ez the ball
went, I could see that the linen round it had been sot on fire by the
powder. The ball overtook the b'ar and bored a hole in his side. Then
the funniest thing of all happened. A streak o' fire a yard long shot
out o' the b'ar's side where the bullet had gone in, an' ez long ez
that poor bewitched b'ar were in sight--fer o' course I thort at the
time th't the b'ar were bewitched--I could see that streak o' fire
sailin' along in the sky till it went out at last like a shootin' star.
I never knowed w'at become o' the b'ar, an' the hull thing were a
startlin' myst'ry to me, but I kim home, Squire, an' tol' ye the story,
jest ez I've tol' ye now, an' ye were so durn polite th't ye said I were
a liar. But sence, I've been a-thinkin' an' recollectin'. Squire, I
don't hold no gredge. The myst'ry's plain ez day, now. We don't want no
better signs o' gas th'n th't, do we, Squire?"

"Than what?" said the Squire.

"Than what!" exclaimed the Old Settler. "Than that b'ar, o' course!
That's w'at ailed him. It's plain enough th't thuz nat'ral gas on the
Gro