"The best way to become a public speaker, Mike," said Lord Dalhousie, "is to have something to say, and just say it, so tell us your story."
"Me and Shparks wuz in the blacksmith shop when Joe Wyman, the young shpalpeen, sez he, 'There's a bear in the river beyant.'
"'Come on, byes,' sez Mr. Rug, 'we'll foller him up,' sez he. He took down the gun that hung on the wall forninst him, an I tuk a hand-shpike forninst me, an Shparks he went out forninst the blacksmith shop an filled the inside of his shirt wid shtones, regardliss of shape or forrum; an', yer Honor," he said, touching his hat, "before Shparks an' me cud raitch the shore Mr. Rug was in the canoe. We cud see the great brute swimmin' to the island, an' we put after him as quick as iver we cud, but before we cud raitch him he had consailed himsilf. We spint two hours in searching for the brute, an' Shparks, who is a very obsarvant man, sez he, 'Begorra! there he is, as sure as a gun, makin' shtraight for the cliff.'
"'Come on, byes,' sez Mr. Rug, 'we'll get aven wid the crayture yet.'
"Shparks was feelin' pious-like, for it was Good Friday, an he didn't feel like fightin' bears nor min. Sez he, 'Let the poor brute go home to her cubs.'
"'Niver a bit of it,' said Mr. Rug, 'we'll not lit her go till she's kilt.' An' with that he put after the bear as fast as he cud. When we were not twinty yards from the baste, Mr. Rug, he aimed at the bear, but Shparks moved, an' the bullet went whizzin' into the water. Then Shparks he began a-peltin' him wid shtones, so he did, which made the poor baste so mad that he wheeled round an' was makin' shtraight for the canoe, when I up wid the handshpike to bate him, while Mr. Rug was loadin' his gun. Well, yer Honor, it's tirrible sorry I am to be tellin' yez that I upset the canoe, an' me an' Shparks an' the bear wuz all strugglin' in the ragin', foamin' deep.
"'Holy angels!' sez I, 'save me! save me!' The current was so shtrong that it carried me to the little island forninst the cliff, an' it was mesilf that was glad when I was washed on a rock near the shore. Mr. Rug an' Shparks they clung to the canoe an' drifted down to the shores of the cliff which the bear wuz engaged in ascendin'.
"'What's that,' sez I to mesilf, 'comin' across the river? It's a boat,' sez mesilf to me, 'wid the Chief and Mr. Brigham.' Soon they had reached the other shore, an' two bullets from their guns brought the poor crayture tumblin' to the bottom."
The weather turned exceedingly cold and wet, and as camping was no longer desirable, the party packed up their things and left. They had not gone many miles on their return trip when the leading canoe scraped a rock. Water poured in so quickly that the crew, consisting of the two officers, with Bearie and Joe, had to swim ashore towing the wreck behind them. Joe was sent to the woods to gather spruce gum and birch bark, while the other three tried to kindle a fire. After much difficulty they succeeded in securing light rotten wood from the inside of a hollow tree, sufficiently dry to retain sparks from a flint, and in a short time three half-frozen men stood steaming before a huge fire. After two hours of fruitless search, the Frenchman returned unable to procure any birch bark, but with a quantity of gum, which he scraped into a small iron kettle, together with a small quantity of fat, and suspended it over the fire.
"Now we are in a dilemma," said Colonel By. "What shall we do without bark? Shall we have to go the rest of the way on foot?"