from his front feet. The atmosphere in the kitchen was such that I shall never forget. The smell of the old teapot steeping tea; mother hurrying to and fro; my sister hooking a mat over in the corner; and Dad hurrying to get off his overshoes as he mumbled to himself. My sister beckoned me to come closer. She held one finger to her mouth and said, "Shhh, he won't tell us what he's saying, but it's something about a bear; so, wait until he finishes his cup of tea." With a grunt of satisfaction and displaying an air of one who is the harbinger of exciting news, Dad looked at my sister and remarked, "Maybe you will listen." "Yes, Dad," she said, and stopped her hooking. She followed Dad to the door and they stood on the steps, as he pointed towards the woods and said, "You see where the snow has fallen off the branches in one spot, far from the sun. Well, right in that direction, on the other side of , I saw a bear's tracks and he crossed the road and was heading east. I talked to Mike Maclnnis , and he said that two or three people besides himself had actually watched the bear meandering through the fields and on into the woods." Well! If Dad was excited when he arrived home, now it was our turn, "When? Where did you see the bear?" "How big was he?" "What color was he?" "Get the musket! Get the rifle! Get the shotgun!" Dusk comes early in February, and as the wintry, sickly-looking sun was sinking low, my brother and I had the guns ready. But we decided to wait until daybreak to take up the hunt. One would never believe the visions that were dancing through our heads as we twisted and turned, and tried hard to sleep. Maybe it was an hour before daylight when we gulped down our breakfast and checked our ammunition for about the tenth time. Finally, with our lunch crammed into our pockets we were away, and, before we entered