MRS. AUSTIN AND THE BEAR.

One of the great and almost insurmountable difficulties attendant upon the settlement of a new country, is that of rearing farm stock, and preserving it from the attacks of wild beasts. The experience of the pioneers of civilization in the valley of the Ohio, on this point, taught them that, until the country became more fully settled, and the increase of inhabitants so great as to drive back the denizens of the forest to more distant lairs, they must depend upon their rifles alone for a supply of animal food for the table. On the principle of recompense, perhaps, it was not so hard as it might otherwise seem, for when pork and beef were scarce, "b'ar meat" was plenty—andvice versa. But then, it was hard when one took a notion to raise a pig or two to furnish his table in time of need, to find it missing some bright morning, and know that all that pork had gone to fill the greedy stomach of a bear or "painter." Many and frequent were the encounters at the sty between the settler and his dusky neighbor, the bear, in which the contest for the possession of the pork was maintained with vigor and determination on the one side, and on the other with a hungry energy, which was deserving of commendation, if not of success.

Except when he could accomplish his object by stealth, however, bruin seldom came off the victor. The first note of alarm was sufficient to call from his pallet the watchful hunter, and the deadly rifle generally sent the intruder off a cripple, or stretched his carcass on the greensward, a trophy to the skill of his opponent. The women, too, were not backward in defense of their porcine friends when necessity called for exertion on their part to save them from destruction, as is evidenced by several anecdotes of their intrepidity on such occasions.

Mrs. Austin and the Bear—Page51.

A Mrs. John Austin, of Geneva Township, one day while her husband was absent from home, was alarmed by the sound of an unusual commotion among her pigs, and looking in the direction of the sty, which stood just back of the cabin, she beheld a bear just in the act of climbing over the inclosure among a group of three or four promising shotes, which she fondly hoped would one day fill the pork barrel and serve to supply her table with animal food during the long dreary months of the next winter. For a period of many weeks had she nursed, watched and fed them, in anticipation of their future usefulness, and she could not bear the thought of parting with them. But how to save them?—that was the question. There was no one near to aid in their salvation, and she must depend upon herself, or lose her pork. The danger was imminent, and decisive action necessary. Her mind was soon made up; she'd save her pigs or perish in the attempt. Calling her children, she sent them up into the loft and took away the ladder, that they might be safe in case she was unsuccessful or should be overcome by the bear. Taking down her husband's rifle, which hung on its pegs behind the door of the cabin, she carefully examined it to see if it was loaded, but in her haste overlooked thepriming. The increasing confusion in the sty warned her that delays were dangerous, and she sallied forth to encounter bruin, who was already on his way to the forest with one of the pigs in his arms. The latter was giving vent to his fears in the most piercing and pitiful tones, while his captor, intent only on securing his prize, was marching off at a rapid pace on his hind feet, holding the pig as a mother holds her babe, and indifferent alike to his struggles and his pathetic appeals for mercy and relief. A momentary tremor seized upon the frame of the heroine, and the blood ran chill through her heart, as her gaze revealed the figure of a bear of the largest size—an antagonist whom many a stalwart hunter would have hesitated before attacking. No time was given her, however, to deliberate, for the bear had discovered her approach almost as soon as she turned the corner of the cabin. Dropping his burden, he turned to face his enemy, and presented a front which might have appalled a much stouter heart than that of our heroine; while the pig—language fails me in the attempt to describe the emotions which filled the breast of that now overjoyed pig, as he took his way with hasty strides to his former quarters, and snuggled down by the side of his companions, with many a grunt of satisfaction at his escape from the jaws of impendingdeath. I leave it to the imagination of my reader, with the aid of the illustration, to supply a deficiency which my pen is utterly incapable of doing.

Standing thus at bay, in an attitude which threatened an attack on his part, the bear awaited the coming of his adversary. Fortunately, between her and him there was a Virginia worm fence, which formed a sort of breastwork, and offered a very eligible rest for her rifle. Resting her weapon upon the upper rail of the fence, she kneeled upon one knee, and took deliberate aim at the heart of her savage enemy. For the space of a minute the two remained in this position, until, assured of her aim, Mrs. Austin pulled the trigger. To her horror and dismay, the steel emitted sparks, but no report followed. The trusty rifle had missed fire. How shall I describe the feelings which heaved her bosom, as her eye glanced along the barrel until it rested upon the dark form of the bear, fearing lest he should spring upon her and tear her limb from limb. Her own life, and the lives of her children rested upon the success of her shot, and should he change his position so as to present a less vulnerable part to her aim, she felt that her hope was void and her fate certain. The animal still remained in the same position, however, and with as little movement as possible, she drew back the hammer, and again aimed full at his breast. Again the piece missed fire, and her heart sunk within her as she saw the bear move, as though he disliked his ambiguous position, and desired to change it. Not daring to lower her piece to examine it, and hoping that the third attempt might be more effectual, she again essayed to discharge it; but when, for the third time it failed to explode, she felt a sensation of horror creep over her which seemed to curdle the life-blood in her veins, and her limbs seemed palsied with terror as the bear—who had by this time become disgusted with the idea of being made a target of—and that, too, by a woman—dropped upon all fours, and as she thought, prepared to spring upon her. Satisfied, however, with his own exhibition of prowess—or, perhaps, fearful of attacking one who had shown herself so brave, he turned on his heels, and started off on a sidelong trot for the woods, the deep recesses of which soon hid him from sight.

Perhaps it was fortunate for Mrs. Austin that her rifle failed toexplode. Had she wounded the animal instead of killing him, or failed to hit a vital part, no power on earth could have saved her from his savage vengeance. A wounded bear is one of the most terrific beasts to encounter, and the hunter will seldom attack one of these dusky denizens of the forest unless he has other arms to depend upon, should his rifle fail to strike the seat of life. She did not stop to consider the subject, however, but hastening back to her cabin, she threw herself upon the floor, and gave vent to her overwrought feelings in a flood of tears. The excitement which had gradually wrought her up to a fearful pitch of feeling was gone, and the revulsion was so great as to completely unnerve her. She soon rallied again, and her first act, on becoming more calm, was to offer thanks to that Providence which had watched over and protected her in her hour of need.

One of the most terrible bear-fights on record, which throws the exploits of Davy Crockett, and even of "old Grizzly Adams" into the shade, was that which took place some thirty years ago, between a man by the name of John Minter, and one of the largest and most ferocious of the species of black bears. Captain Minter was one of the settlers of Ohio, and, in his youth, had been a great hunter, spending most of his time in the woods in pursuit of game; and such was his proficiency with the rifle, that he seldom failed to bring down the fleetest-winged denizen of the air, or the swiftest-footed deer. His last hunt, however, was the crowning glory of his exploits, brilliant enough to satisfy his ambition, and induce him to "retire upon his dignity;" in fact, his passion for hunting was suddenly changed to disgust, and he gave up the rifle for the plow.

He had been out one day, as usual, with his rifle, in pursuit of a flock of turkeys, but had been unsuccessful, and was returning home in a surly mood, when he came, rather unexpectedly, upon a large black bear, who seemed disposed to dispute his passage. Quick as thought his piece was at his shoulder, and the bullet whizzed through the air, striking the bear full in the breast, and he fell to the ground—as Minter supposed—dead. Carefully reloading his rifle, not to throw away a chance, he approached the bear, and poked his nose with the muzzle, to see if any spark of life remained. Bruin was only "playing 'possum" as it seems, for with far more agility thancould be anticipated of a beast who had a rifle-ball through his body, he reared upon his hind-feet and made at the hunter. Minter fired again, but in his haste and trepidation, arising from the sudden and unexpected attack, he failed to hit a vital part, and a second wound only served to make the brute more savage and desperate. Drawing his tomahawk, he threw that; and as the bear dodged it and sprung upon him, he clubbed his rifle and struck him a violent blow across the head with the butt, which resulted in shivering the stock, and, if possible, increasing his rage. Springing back to avoid the sweep of his terrible claws, Minter drew his long, keen hunting-knife, and prepared for the fatal encounter which he knew must ensue. For a moment the combatants stood gazing at each other, like two experienced duelists, measuring each the other's strength. Minter was a man of powerful frame, and possessed of extraordinary muscular development, which, with his quick eye and ready hand, made him a very athletic and dangerous enemy. He stood six feet high, and was beautifully proportioned. The bear was a male of the largest size, and, rendered desperate by his wounds, which were bleeding profusely, was a fearful adversary to encounter under any circumstances; more particularly so to Minter, who now had simply his knife to depend upon, to decide the contest between them. As Bruin advanced to seize him, he made a powerful blow at his heart, which, had it taken effect, would have settled the matter at once; but the other was too quick for him, and with a sweep of his tremendous paw, parried the blow, and sent the weapon whirling through the air to a distance of twenty feet; the next instant the stalwart hunter was enfolded in the embrace of those fearful paws, and both were rolling on the ground in a death-like grapple.

The woods were open, and free from underbrush to a considerable extent, and in their struggles they rolled about in every direction. The object of the bear was, of course, to hug his adversary to death, which the other endeavored to avoid by presenting his body in such a position as would best resist the vice-like squeeze, until he could loosen his grasp; to accomplish which, he seized the bear by the throat with both hands, and exerted all his energy and muscular power to throttle him. This had the twofold effect of preventing him from using his teeth, and compelling him to release the hug, toknock off the other's hands with his paws; thus affording Minter an opportunity to catch his breath, and change his position. Several times he thought he should be crushed under the immense pressure to which he was subjected; but was buoyed up with the hope of reaching his knife, which lay within sight, and toward which he endeavored to fall every time they came to the ground. With the hot breath of the ferocious brute steaming in his face, and the blood from his own wounds mingling with that of the bear, and running to his heels, his flesh terribly cut up and lacerated by his claws, he still continued to maintain the struggle against the fearful odds, until he was enabled to reach the weapon, which he grasped with joy, and clung to with the tenacity of a death-grip. With his little remaining strength, and at every opportunity between the tremendous hugs, he plied the knife until the bear showed evident signs of weakness, and finally bled to death from the numerous wounds from whence flowed, in copious streams, his warm life's blood, staining the leaves and greensward of a crimson hue.

Releasing himself from the embrace of the now inanimate brute, Minter crawled to a decaying stump, against which he leaned, and surveyed the scene. His heart sickened as he contemplated his own person. He had gone into the battle with a stout, heavy hunting-shirt, and underclothing; with buckskin leggins and moccasins; and had come out of it with scarcely a rag upon him, except the belt around his waist, which still held a few strips of tattered cloth, and a moccasin on one foot. His body, from his neck to his heels, was covered with great gaping wounds, many of which penetrated to the bone, and the blood was flowing in torrents to the ground, covering him with gore from head to foot. For a space of more than half an acre, the ground was torn up, and had the appearance of a butcher's shambles.

As soon as he had recovered his breath, he commenced to crawl toward his home, where he arrived after nightfall, looking more like a slaughtered beef than a human being. His wounds were dressed by his family and friends, and after being confined to his bed for many weeks, thanks to his healthy, rugged constitution, he entirely recovered; but he bore to the grave the marks of his terrible contest, in numerous cicatrices and welts which covered hisback, arms and legs, where the bear's claws had left ineffaceable marks of his strength and ferocity.

Speaking of Davy Crockett, reminds us that there was one of his adventures which deserves to be classed with the "highly exciting" experiences of which Captain Minter's was so good in its way. It was during the Colonel's travels through Texas; he had left his party, to give chase to a drove of mustangs over a prairie; he had pursued them to the banks of the Navasola river, where they had plunged into the stream, and where his own tough little animal had fallen to the ground, apparently in a state of exhaustion. But we must give Colonel Crockett's story in his own words, unless we wish to rob it of its peculiar grace. He says:

"After toiling for more than an hour to get my mustang upon his feet again, I gave it up as a bad job, as little Van did when he attempted to raise himself to the moon by the waistband of his breeches. Night was fast closing in, and as I began to think that I had just about sport enough for one day, I might as well look around for a place of shelter for the night, and take a fresh start in the morning, by which time I was in hopes my horse would be recruited. Near the margin of the river a large tree had been blown down, and I thought of making my lair in its top, and approached it for that purpose. While beating among the branches I heard a low growl, as much as to say, 'Stranger, the apartments are already taken.' Looking about to see what sort of a bedfellow I was likely to have, I discovered, not more than five or six paces from me, an enormous Mexican cougar, eyeing me as an epicure surveys the table before he selects his dish, for I have no doubt the cougar looked upon me as the subject of a future supper. Rays of light darted from his large eyes, he showed his teeth like a negro in hysterics, and he was crouching on his haunches ready for a spring; all of which convinced me that unless I was pretty quick upon the trigger, posterity would know little of the termination of my eventful career, and it would be far less glorious and useful than I intend to make it.

"One glance satisfied me that there was no time to be lost, as Pat thought when falling from a church steeple, and exclaimed, 'This would be mighty pleasant now, if it would only last,' but there was no retreat either for me or the cougar, so I leveled myBetsy and blazed away. The report was followed by a furious growl, (which is sometimes the case in Congress,) and the next moment, when I expected to find the tarnal critter struggling with death, I beheld him shaking his head as if nothing more than a bee had stung him. The ball had struck him on the forehead and glanced off, doing no other injury than stunning him for an instant, and tearing off the skin, which tended to infuriate him the more. The cougar wasn't long in making up his mind what to do, nor was I neither; but he would have it all his own way, and vetoed my motion to back out. I had not retreated three steps before he sprung at me like a steamboat; I stepped aside, and as he lit upon the ground, I struck him violently with the barrel of my rifle, but he didn't mind that, but wheeled around and made at me again. The gun was now of no use, so I threw it away, and drew my hunting knife, for I knew we should come to close quarters before the fight would be over. This time he succeeded in fastening on my left arm, and was just beginning to amuse himself by tearing the flesh off with his fangs, when I ripped my knife into his side, and he let go his hold, much to my satisfaction.

"He wheeled about and came at me with increased fury, occasioned by the smarting of his wounds. I now tried to blind him, knowing that if I succeeded he would become an easy prey; so as he approached me I watched my opportunity, and aimed a blow at his eyes with my knife, but unfortunately it struck him on the nose, and he paid no other attention to it than by a shake of the head and a low growl. He pressed me close, and as I was stepping backward my foot tripped in a vine, and I fell to the ground. He was down upon me like a nighthawk upon a June bug. He seized hold of the outer part of my right thigh, which afforded him considerable amusement; the hinder part of his body was toward my face; I grasped his tail with my left hand, and tickled his ribs with my hunting-knife, which I held in my right. Still the critter wouldn't let go his hold; and as I found that he would lacerate my leg dreadfully, unless he was speedily shaken off, I tried to hurl him down the bank into the river, for our scuffle had already brought us to the edge of the bank. I stuck my knife into his side, and summoned all my strength to throw him over. He resisted, was desperate heavy; butat last I got him so far down the declivity that he lost his balance, and he rolled over and over till he landed on the margin of the river; but in his fall he dragged me along with him. Fortunately, I fell uppermost, and his neck presented a fair mark for my hunting knife. Without allowing myself time even to draw breath, I aimed one desperate blow at his neck, and the knife entered his gullet up to the handle, and reached his heart. I have had many fights with bears, but that was mere child's play; this was the first fight ever I had with a cougar, and I hope it may be the last.

"I now returned to the tree-top to see if any one else would dispute my lodging; but now I could take peaceable and quiet possession. I parted some of the branches, and cut away others to make a bed in the opening; I then gathered a quantity of moss, which hung in festoons from the trees, which I spread on the litter, and over this I spread my horse-blanket; and I had as comfortable a bed as a weary man need ask for. I now took another look at my mustang, and from all appearances, he would not live until morning. I ate some of the cakes that little Kate of Nacogdoches had made for me, and then carried my saddle into my tree-top, and threw myself down upon my bed with no very pleasant reflections at the prospect before me.

"I was weary, and soon fell asleep, and did not awake until daybreak the next day. I felt somewhat stiff and sore from the wounds I had received in the conflict with the cougar; but I considered myself as having made a lucky escape. I looked over the bank, and as I saw the carcass of the cougar lying there, I thought that it was an even chance that we had not exchanged conditions; and I felt grateful that the fight had ended as it did. I now went to look after my mustang, fully expecting to find him as dead as the cougar; but what was my astonishment to find that he had disappeared without leaving trace of hair or hide of him! I first supposed that some beasts of prey had consumed the poor critter; but then they wouldn't have eaten his bones, and he had vanished as effectually as the deposits, without leaving any mark of the course they had taken. This bothered me amazing; I couldn't figure it out by any rule that I had ever heard of, so I concluded to think no more about it.

"I felt a craving for something to eat, and looking around for some game, I saw a flock of geese on the shore of the river. I shot a fine, fat gander, and soon stripped him of his feathers; and gathering some light wood, I kindled a fire, run a long stick through my goose for a spit, and put it down to roast, supported by two sticks with prongs. I had a desire for some coffee; and having a tin cup with me, I poured the paper of ground coffee that I had received from the bee-hunter into it, and made a strong cup, which was very refreshing. Off of my goose and biscuit I made a hearty meal, and was preparing to depart without clearing up the breakfast things, or knowing which direction to pursue, when I was somewhat taken aback by another of the wild scenes of the West. I heard a sound like the trampling of many horses, and I thought to be sure the mustangs or buffaloes were coming upon me again; but on raising my head, I beheld in the distance about fifty mounted Comanches, with their spears glittering in the morning sun, dashing toward the spot where I stood at full speed. As the column advanced, it divided, according to their usual practice, into two semicircles, and in an instant I was surrounded. Quicker than thought I sprung to my rifle, but as my hand grasped it, I felt that resistance against so many would be of as little use as pumping for thunder in dry weather.

"The chief was for making love to my beautiful Betsy, but I clung fast to her, and assuming an air of composure, I demanded whether their nation was at war with the Americans. 'No,' was the reply. 'Do you like the Americans?' 'Yes; they are our friends.' 'Where do you get your spear-heads, your rifles, your blankets, and your knives from?' 'Get them from our friends, the Americans.' 'Well, do you think, if you were passing through their nation, as I am passing through yours, they would attempt to rob you of your property?' 'No, they would feed me, and protect me; and the Comanche will do the same by his white brother.'

"I now asked him what it was had directed him to the spot where I was, and he told me that they had seen the smoke from a great distance, and had come to see the cause of it. He inquired what had brought me there alone; and I told him that I had come to hunt, and that my mustang had become exhausted and though Ithought he was about to die, that he had escaped from me; at which the chief gave a low, chuckling laugh, and said it was all a trick of the mustang, which is the most wily and cunning of all animals. But he said, that as I was a brave hunter, he would furnish me with another; he gave orders, and a fine young horse was immediately brought forward.

"When the party approached there were three old squaws at their head, who made a noise with their mouths, and served as trumpeters.

"I now told the chief that, as I now had a horse, I would go for my saddle, which was in the place where I had slept. As I approached the spot, I discovered one of the squaws devouring the remains of my roasted goose, but my saddle and bridle were nowhere to be found. Almost in despair of seeing them again, I observed, in a thicket at a little distance, one of the trumpeters kicking and belaboring her horse to make him move off, while the sagacious beast would not move a step from the troop. I followed her, and thanks to her restive mustang, secured my property, which the chief made her restore to me. Some of the warriors had by this time discovered the body of the cougar, and had already commenced skinning it; and seeing how many stabs were about it, I related to the chief the desperate struggle I had had; he said, 'Brave hunter, brave man,' and wished me to be adopted into his tribe, but I respectfully declined the honor. He then offered to see me on my way; and I asked him to accompany me to the Colorado river, if he was going in that direction, which he agreed to do. I put my saddle on my fresh horse, mounted, and we darted off, at a rate not much slower than I had rode the day previous with the wild herd, the old squaws at the head of the troop braying like young jackasses the whole way."

The more we study the history of frontier life, the more we are surprised at the characters of such men as Simon Kenton in one way and David Crockett in another. It would seem as if they were made to command the circumstances in which they were placed—indigenous to the soil in which they grew—with traits which sprung up to meet every emergency of their times and places. They were of a new race, the like of which no other sun nor age had looked upon—Americans, indeed, in the broadest sense—men sent to prepare thesoil of civilization for the rich fruit and flowers which already cover the furrows turned by their brave and vigorous arms.

David Crockett's grandparents were murdered by Indians; and he was born and reared in the midst of those privations which helped to make him what he was. It is quite delightful, in reading his "life" to see with what ease andnonchalancehe dispatches a few bears in the course of a day, or does any other work which is thrown in his way. As in the specimen we have quoted, he conquers his cougar, and ingratiates himself with a roving band of Comanches, and "does up" enough adventures in a chapter to satisfy any ordinary man, if stretched through a long lifetime. Let us treasure up the records of "Davy Crockett," for we shall never have another like him.

To show the perfect isolation in which some of the pioneers lived, and the manner of their lives, we will give an anecdote of a Mr. Muldrow, one of the settlers of Kentucky, whose name is still attached to a range of savage precipices in the central part of the State, called Muldrow's hill. The individual referred to settled here at a time when there was not a single white man but himself in this vicinity, and here he had resided for a year with his wife, without having seen the face of any other human being. Perhaps, as it was his choice to reside in a wilderness, isolated from his own species, he might have thought it prudent to conceal his place of abode from the Indians, by erecting his cabin in an inhospitable waste, difficult of access, where there were no pastures to invite the deer or buffalo, and no game to allure the savage hunter, and where his family remained secure, while he roved with his gun over some hunting-ground at a convenient distance.

After passing a year in this mode of life, he was one day wandering through the woods in search of game, when he heard the barking of a dog, and supposing that an Indian was near, concealed himself. Presently a small dog came running along his track, with his nose to the ground, as if pursuing his footsteps, and had nearly reached his hiding-place, when it stopped, snuffed the air, and uttered a low whine, as if to admonish its master that the object of pursuit was near at hand. In a few minutes the owner of the dog came stepping cautiously along, glancing his eyes jealously around, and uttering low signals to the dog. But the dog stood at fault,and the owner halted within a few yards of our hunter and exposed to view.

The new-comer was a tall, athletic man, completely armed with rifle, tomahawk and knife; but whether he was a white man or an Indian, could not be determined either by his complexion or dress. He wore a hunting-shirt and leggins, of dressed deer-skin, and a hat from which the rim was entirely worn away, and the crown elongated into the shape of a sugar-loaf. The face, feet and hands, which were exposed, were of the tawny hue of the savage; but whether the color was natural, or the effect of exposure, could not be ascertained even by the keen eye of the hunter; and the features were so disguised with dirt and gunpowder, that their expression afforded no clue by which the question could be decided whether the person was a friend or foe. There was but a moment for scrutiny; the pioneer, inclining to the opinion that the stranger was an Indian, cautiously drew up his rifle, and took deliberate aim; but the bare possibility that he might be pointing his weapon at the bosom of a countryman induced him to pause.

Again he raised his gun, and again hesitated; while his opponent, with his rifle half-raised toward his face, and his finger on the trigger, looked eagerly around. Both stood motionless and silent—one searching for the object of his pursuit, the other in readiness to fire. At length the hunter, having resolved to delay no longer, cocked his rifle—theclickreached the acute ear of the other, who instantly sprung behind a tree; the hunter imitated his example, and they were now fairly opposed, each covered by a tree, from behind which he endeavored to get a shot at his adversary without exposing his own person.

And now a series of stratagems ensued, each seeking to draw the fire of the other, until the stranger, becoming weary of suspense, called out:

"Why don't you shoot, you etarnal cowardly varmint?"

"Shoot, yourself, you bloody red-skin!" retorted the other.

"No more a red-skin than yourself!"

"Are you a white man?"

"To be sure I am. Are you?"

"Yes; no mistake in me!"

Whereupon, each being undeceived, they threw down their guns, rushed together with open arms, and took a hearty hug. The hunter now learned that the stranger had been settled, with his family, about ten miles from him, for several months past, and that each had frequently roamed over the same hunting-ground, supposing himself the sole inhabitant of that region. On the following day the hunter saddled his horse, and taking up his good wife behind him, carried her down to make a call upon her new neighbor, who doubtless received the visit with far more sincere joy than usually attends such ceremonies.

There is a well-accredited bear-story which belongs to the early history of Ohio, and which is of a little different type from most of the adventures with these ugly animals. An old pilot of the Ohio was once obliged to give a bruin a free ride—but he could hardly blame the bear, after stopping so kindly to take him in. But we must let him tell his own story. "Twenty odd year ago," said the pilot, "there warn't a great many people along the Ohio, except Injins and b'ars, and we didn't like to cultivate a clust acquaintance with either of 'em; fer the Injins were cheatin', scalpin' critters, and the bears had an onpleasant way with them. Ohio warn't any great shakes then, but it had a mighty big pile of the tallest kind of land layin' about, waitin' to be opened to the sunlight. 'Arly one mornin' when my companions was asleep, I got up and paddled across the river after a deer, for we wanted venison for breakfast. I got a buck and was returnin', when what should I see but a b'ar swimmin' the Ohio, and I put out in chase right off. I soon overhauled the critter and picked up my rifle to give him a settler, but the primin' had got wet and the gun wouldn't go off. I didn't understand b'ar as well then as I do now, and I thought I'd run him down and drown him or knock him in the head. So I put the canoe right eend on toward him, thinkin' to run him under, but when the bow teched him, what did he do but reach his great paws up over the side of the canoe and begin to climb in. I hadn't bargained for that. I felt mighty onpleasant, you may believe, at the prospect of sech a passenger. I hadn't time to get at him with the butt of my rifle, till he came tumbling into the dugout, and, as he seated himself on his starn, showed as pretty a set of ivory as you'd wish to see. Thar we sot,he in one end of the dugout, I in t'other, eyein' one another in a mighty suspicious sort of way. He didn't seem inclined to come near my eend of the canoe, and I was principled agin goin' toward his. I made ready to take to the water, but at the same time made up my mind I'd paddle him to shore, free gratis for nothin' if he'd behave hisself. Wal, I paddled away, the b'ar every now and then grinnin' at me, skinnin' his face till every tooth in his head stood right out, and grumblin' to hisself in a way that seemed to say, 'I wonder if that chap's good to eat.' I didn't offer any opinion on the subject; I didn't say a word to him, treatin' him all the time like a gentleman, but kept pullin' for the shore. When the canoe touched ground, he clambered over the side, climbed up the bank, and givin' me an extra grin, made off for the woods. I pushed the dugout back suddenly, and give him, as I felt safe agin, a double war whoop, that astonished him. I learned one thing that morning—never to try todrown a b'ar—'specially by running him down with a dugout—it wont pay!"

Big Joe Logston's Encounter with an Indian—Page7.

TALES,Traditions and RomanceOFBORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.

TALES,

Traditions and Romance

BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES.

BIG JOE LOGSTON.DEBORAH, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR.GEN. MORGAN'S PRAYER.BRAVERY OF THE JOHNSON BOYS.

BIG JOE LOGSTON.

DEBORAH, THE MAIDEN WARRIOR.

GEN. MORGAN'S PRAYER.

BRAVERY OF THE JOHNSON BOYS.

NEW YORK:BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,118 WILLIAM STREET.

NEW YORK:

BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS,

118 WILLIAM STREET.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, byBEADLE AND COMPANY,In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States forthe Southern District of New York.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by

BEADLE AND COMPANY,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for

the Southern District of New York.

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