"Old Jacob fixed upon a huge hollow pine that lay across their path, against which he soon piled a glorious heap of boughs and arms of trees, and whatever wood he could collect, and lighted up a fine fire. The wood was dry pine and cedar and birch, and it blazed away, and crackled and burned like a pine-torch. By-and-by they heard a most awful growling close to them. 'That's a big bear, as I live,' said old Jacob, looking all about, thinking to see one come out from the thick bush. But Bruin was nearer to him than he thought; for presently a great black bear burst out from the butt-end of the great burning log, and made towards Jacob. Just then the wind blew the flame outward, and it caught the bear's thick coat, and he was all in a blaze in a moment. No doubt the heat of the fire had penetrated to the hollow of the log, where he had lain himself snugly up for the winter, and wakened him. Jacob seeing the huge black brute all in a flame of fire, roared with fright; the bear roared with pain and rage; and my father roared with laughing to see Jacob's terror. But he did not let the bear laugh at him, for he seized a thick pole that he had used for closing in the brands and logs, and soon demolished the bear, who was so blinded with the fire and smoke that he made no fight; and they feasted on roast bear's flesh for many days, and got a capital skin to cover them beside."
"What, Louis! after the fur was all singed?" said Catharine.
"Kate, you are too particular," said Louis; "a story never loses, you know."
Hector laughed heartily at the adventure, and enjoyed the dilemma of the bear in his winter quarters; but Catharine was somewhat shocked at the levity displayed by her cousin and brother when recounting the terror of old Jacob and the sufferings of the poor bear.
"You boys are always so unfeeling," she said gravely.
"Indeed, Kate," said her brother, "the day may come when the sight of a good piece of roast bear's flesh will be no unwelcome sight. If we do not find our way back to Cold Springs before the winter sets in, we may be reduced to as bad a state as poor Jacob and my uncle were in the pine swamps on the banks of the St. John."
"Ah!" said Catharine, trembling, "that would be too bad to happen."
"Courage, ma belle; let us not despair for the morrow. Let us see what tomorrow will do for us; meantime, we will not neglect the blessings we still possess. See, our partridge is ready; let us eat our supper, and be thankful; and for grace let us say, 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'"
Long exposure to the air had sharpened their appetites. The hungry wanderers needed no further invitation. The scanty meal, equally divided, was soon despatched.
It is a common saying, but excellent to be remembered by any wanderers in our forest wilds, that those who travel by the sun travel in a circle, and usually find themselves at night in the same place from whence they started in the morning; so it was with our wanderers. At sunset they found themselves once more in the ravine, beside the big stone, in which they had rested at noon. They had imagined themselves miles distant from it: they were grievously disappointed. They had encouraged each other with the confident hope that they were drawing near to the end of their bewildering journey: they were as far from their home as ever, without the slightest clue to guide them to the right path. Despair is not a feeling which takes deep root in the youthful breast. The young are always hopeful; so confident in their own wisdom and skill in averting or conquering danger; so trusting; so willing to believe that there is a peculiar Providence watching over them. Poor children! they had indeed need of such a belief to strengthen their minds and encourage them to fresh exertions, for new trials were at hand.