d his
hands above his head, as if he had been a man, and grasped the line,
and tried to lift himself, hand over hand, so as to take the strain
from his mouth.--And I could never catch another frog like that.

Next morning, as I went to the early fishing, Chigwooltz, the
patient, sat by the same stone, his fore feet at the edge of the same
bronze lily leaf. At noon he was still there; in twenty-four hours at
least he had not moved a muscle.

At twilight I was following a bear along the shore. It was the
restless season, when bears are moving constantly; scarcely a twilight
passed that I did not meet one or more on their wanderings. This one
was heading for the upper end of the lake, traveling in the shallow
water near shore; and I was just behind him, stealing along in my
canoe to see what queer thing he would do. He was in no hurry, as most
other bears were, but went nosing along shore, acting much as a fat
pig would in the same place. As he approached the alder point he
stopped suddenly, and twisted his head a bit, and set his ears, as a
dog does that sees something very interesting. Then he began to steal
forward. Could it be--I shot my canoe forward--yes, it was Chigwooltz,
still sitting by the green stone, with his eye, like Bunsby's, on the
coast of Greenland. In thirty-two hours, to my knowledge, he had not
stirred.

Mooween the bear crept nearer; he was crouching now like a cat,
stealing along in the soft mud behind Chigwooltz so as to surprise
him. I saw him raise one paw slowly, cautiously, high above his head.
Down it came, _souse_! sending up a shower of mud and water. And
Chigwooltz the restful, who could sit still thirty-two hours without
getting stiff in the joints, and then dodge the sweep of Mooween's
paw, went splashing away _hippety-ippety_ over the lily pads to some
water grass, where he said _K'tung!_ and disappeared for good.

A few days later Simmo and I moved camp to a grove of birches just
above the alder point. From behind my tent an old game path led down
to the bay where the big frogs lived. There were scores of them there;
the chorus at night, with its multitude of voices running from a
whistling treble to deep, deep bass, was at times tremendous. It was
here that I had the first good opportunity of watching frogs feeding.

Chigwooltz, I found, is a perfect gourmand and a cannibal, eating,
besides his regular diet of flies and beetles and water snails, young
frogs, and crawfish, and tur