thought we could obtain
grease enough from poor bruin to serve this purpose.

So we cut the body up, hair and all,--for his hide absolutely stuck to
his bones,--and that night cleared out one of the kettles, and commenced
trying out our bear's grease.

The contents of the kettle sizzled there all the evening, giving off
anything but an agreeable odor. We were translating the fable of "The
Mouse and the Peasant" that night, and _nihil Mehurcule_ is still mixed
up in my mind with the odor of that old bear.

By nine o'clock the oil was fried out. We throw the scraps into the
fire, and these made, if possible, a still more disagreeable odor as
they burned. The whole swamp was full of it.

The hot fat was then poured off into a tin pail, and hung in a little
spotted maple near one end of our camp-shed. We used to hang all our tin
dishes and ladles here, for the maple had low limbs, which we had cut
off so as to leave the stubs for pegs.

Underneath this tree was the great box--an old grain-box from a
logging-camp--in which we stored our "salts" as it was made.

In the night.--it must have been after midnight, for the fire was
out--I was roused from sleep by Ed, who was moving about the shed. I
thought at first that he was walking in his sleep,--for he was a
somnambulist,--and gave him a shake.

"Sh!" whispered he. "There's something sniffing round the arch."

We both peered sharply, but it was so dark that we could see nothing.

"It's the mate to that old bear, I guess," Ed whispered. "He's lonely,
and wants company."

"More likely he has smelled the fat," said I, "and intends to steal it."

"Perhaps so," said Ed. "I thought we should draw some beast or other to
us. Sh! I believe I can see him. Keep still! I'll teach him not to steal
from his neighbors."

Ed reached for the gun, which at night always lay loaded at the head of
our bunk.

Cocking the gun, he took aim and fired.

There was a yell almost as loud as the report, and it startled me a good
deal worse. I once heard a vicious hound when shot make almost just such
a noise. It was really a blood-curdling sound.

Vet had been sound asleep. The gun and the yell brought him suddenly to
his feet.

"What is it?" he screamed. "What's the matter?"

"Matter?" exclaimed Ed; "that was a wolf! An ugly customer, too."

The creature had ran yelping away, and now the whole swamp resounded to
its cries, as it crossed the frozen stream and ran for the
mountain-s