As I picked my way round some low driftwood by one of the soapy streams, I stumbled over a half-buried log. In recovering my balance I noticed that one end of the log, which was some fourteen feet long, had been freshly splintered, and, strange to say, by rifle shots.
Suddenly the explanation dawned upon me. The doughty Corker, hero of wonderful stories and holder of many "spoils," had fallen into that facile error of the novice and shot a fallen log!
Picking up a stout splinter, which showed two neatly-drilled holes, I made my way, grinning hugely, back to the rendezvous.
That night, when all had retired to rest at Corker's bungalow, his three guests, clad in pyjamas and shaking with subdued mirth, crept on to the veranda and fastened up in a central position among their host's trophies a perforated redwood log splinter!
V.—A BRUSH WITH A BEAR.
By R. W. Martin, Junior.
MR. R. W. MARTIN, JUNIOR, WHO HERE DESCRIBES HIS EXCITING EXPERIENCE WITH A BEAR.
From a Photograph.
The fall of 1905 found me camping on the Lehigh River, in Luzerne County, Pennsylvania, in company with two friends named George and Oscar Murray. This part of the country is wild and mountainous, the nearest railroad being at Bear Creek, twelve miles distant.