“It requires a sharp eye, though,” said Martin, “to watch the bee far; some of the trappers catch the bees and give them sugar mixed with whisky. This makes the bee tipsy, and he cannot fly so fast, and then they discover the hive much sooner, as they can run almost as fast as the bee flies.”
“That’s capital,” cried Percival; “but tell me, Martin, how do you kill the bears?”
“Why, Master Percival, with our rifles, to be sure; the easiest way to kill them is when they are in their holes in the hollow trees.”
“How do you get them out?”
“Why, we knock the tree with our axes, and they come out to see what’s the matter, and as soon as they put their heads out, we shoot them.”
“Are you in earnest, Martin?”
“Yes, ma’am; quite in earnest,” replied Martin.
“It’s all true, ma’am,” said the hunter; “the bears about here are not very savage. We had much worse down in Maine. I’ve seen the Indians in a canoe on a river watching the bears as they swam across, and kill in the water six or seven in one day.”
“Still a hear is an awkward sort of animal when it’s angry,” replied Martin; “and, as we may have them down here in the autumn, it is as well not to let them be thought too lightly of.”
“Indeed, there’s no fear of that,” said Emma; “as for Malachi, he thinks nothing dangerous; but I have no wish to see a bear. You say we may expect them, Martin. Why so?”