expended, sprinkled it with powder, and ate it, cold and dry as it was.
The almost impenetrable swamps and the wretched weather, together with my long solitude, had considerably cooled my shooting propensities, and I resolved to seek human society. To get clear of the swamps as soon as possible, I directed my steps to the north-east, towards the St. Francis river, in hopes of finding letters from Cincinnati, or perhaps from home, at Strong’s post-office, as I had written for them to be forwarded there.
A few dry strips of land ran across the country from north to south, the intermediate spaces being about a foot or a foot and a half under water, with here and there channels three or four feet deep. Worn out and wretched as I felt from the frequent attacks of ague, I had twice to swim through the icy water, but the word “must” carried me through. In fact, I had the choice of that or perishing in the swamp. The first alternative was merely disagreeable, while the latter was highly objectionable; so I chose the former.
I passed the night by a warm fire, at which I roasted a turkey I had shot. It was at any rate an improvement on its predecessor, and my zither responded through the forest to the voices of the owls and wolves.
Next morning I resumed my north-east direction with fresh strength, and was not a little surprised about nine o’clock by a smell of smoke. Soon afterwards I came on the fresh remains of a fire. The impressions on the leaves showed clearly enough that only one person had lain there, and that he had four dogs with him. About twenty paces from the fire some grains of Indian corn were scattered about, and a tree showed signs that a horse, who had left unmistakable marks of his teeth in the bark, had been tethered there.
According to appearances, this person had not left his halting-place above an hour, and as the dew and hoar frost still lay on the leaves and grass, his trail towards the south-east was easily traceable. After following for a short distance, I heard a shot, hastened towards the sound, and came up just as the object of my search was mounting his horse. A broken-up deer was hanging to a tree, and four dogs came barking towards me. It turned out to be a man of the name of Pearce, a dweller in the neighborhood, with whom I was slightly acquainted. We greeted each other heartily, and were mutually delighted at the chance meeting, he assuring me that nothing could have given him greater pleasure than falling in with me, as he had discovered a tree a few days back in which the marks left it out of doubt that a bear must be concealed. He had killed the deer as he came along, and hung it up, intending to carry it home on his return. I readily accepted his proposal to join him, and we hastened towards Brushy lake, which we soon reached, but too far south;—so we had to go up the stream.
As we were both tired, we bivouacked early in the afternoon, on an elevated tract of land, and stretched ourselves comfortably before a warm fire. I had half a turkey remaining, and Pearce had bear, deer, and coffee, so I need hardly say that we made a good dinner.
We passed a quiet night, and the sun was well up before we commenced our march. About ten o’clock P. pointed out a large cypress close to the bank of the river, assuring me that the bear was there. The tree may have been about four feet in diameter, and there were very distinct traces of a bear’s claws in the bark. P. had intended to smoke out the sleeper; but that would have required much time, and as we were now two, and the tree was quite hollow at the base, we resolved to cut it down with our tomahawks. Securing the horse at a safe distance, we set to work, and the forest soon resounded with the strokes of our small axes. About two o’clock we paused to take a little refreshment; the dogs, meantime, tired of waiting, amused themselves in chasing rabbits and raccoons.