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'Don't never wan' t' rassle with no bear；' he added； 'but hams is too scurce here 'n the woods t' hev 'em tuk away 'fore ye know the taste uv 'em。 I ain't never been hard on bears。 Don't seldom ever set no traps an' I ain't shot a bear fer mor'n 'n ten year。 But they've got t' be decent。 If any bear steals my vittles he's goin' t' git cuffed bard。'
Ab's tongue had limbered up at last。 His pipe was going well and he seemed to have struck an easy grade。 There was a tone of injury and aggrievement in his talk of the bear's ingratitude。 He snailed over his whittling as we laughed heartily at the droll effect of it all。
'D'ye ever hear o' the wild man 'at roams 'round'n these woods？' he asked。
'Never did；' said Uncle Eb。
'I've seen 'im more times 'n ye could shake a stick at；' said Ab crossing his legs comfortably and spitting into the fire。 'Kind o' thank he's the same man folks tells uv down 'n Paradise Valley there … 'at goes 'round 'n the clearin' after bedtime。'
'The night man！' I exclaimed。
'Guess thet's what they call 'im；' said Ab。 'Curus man！ Sometimes I've hed a good squint at 'im off 'n the woods。 He's wilder 'n a deer an' I've seen 'im jump over logs； half as high as this shanty； jest as easy as ye 'd hop a twig。 Tried t' foller 'im once er twice but tain' no use。 He's quicker 'n a wil' cat。'
'What kind of a lookin' manis he？' Tip Taylor asked。
'Great； big； broad…shouldered feller；' said Ab。 'Six feet tall if he's an inch。 Hed a kind of a deerskin jacket on when I seen 'im an' breeches an' moccasins made o' some kind o' hide。 I recollec' one day I was over on the ridge two mile er more from the Stillwater goin' south。 I seen 'im gittin' a drink at the spring there 'n the burnt timber。 An' if I ain't mistaken there was a real live panther playin' 'round 'im。 If 't wa'n't a panther 'twas pesky nigh it I can'tell ye。 The critter see me fast an' drew up 'is back。 Then the man got up quickerin' a flash。 Soon 'she see me …Jeemimey！ didn't they move。 Never see no human critter run as he did！ A big tree hed fell 'cross a lot o' bush right 'n his path。 I'll be gol dummed if 'twan't higher 'n my head！ But he cleared it … jest as easy as a grasshopper'd go over a straw。 I'd like t' know wher he comes from； gol dummed if I wouldn't。 He's the consamdest queerest animal 'n these woods。'
Ab emphasised this lucid view of the night man by an animated movement of his fist that held the big hunting knife with which he whittled。 Then he emptied his pipe and began cutting more tobacco。
'Some says 'e 's a ghost；' said Tip Taylor； splitting his sentence with a yawn； as he lay on a buffalo robe in the shanty。
'Shucks an' shoestrings！' said An； 'he looks too nat'ral。 Don't believe no ghost ever wore whiskers an' long hair like his'n。 Thet don't hol' t' reason。'
This remark was followed by dead silence。 Tip seemed to lack both courage and information with which to prolong the argument。
Gerald had long been asleep and we were all worn out with uphill travelling and the lack of rest。 Uncle Eb went out to look after the horses that were tethered near us。 Ab rose； looked up through the tree…tops； ventured a guess about the weather； and strode off into the darkness。
We were five days in camp； hunting； fishing； fighting files and picking blueberries。 Gerald's cough had not improved at all … it was； if anything； a bit worse than it had been and the worry of that had clouded our holiday。 We were not in high spirits when； finally we decided to break camp the next afternoon。
The morning of our fourth day at Blueberry Uncle Eb and I crossed the lake； at daylight； to fish awhile in Soda Brook and gather orchids then abundant and beautiful in that part of the woods。 We headed for camp at noon and were well away from shore when a wild yell rang in the dead timber that choked the wide inlet behind us。 I was rowing and stopped the oars while we both looked back at the naked trees； belly deep in the water。
But for the dry limbs； here and there； they would have looked like masts of sunken ships。 In a moment another wild whoop came rushing over the water。 Thinking it might be somebody in trouble we worked about and pulled for the mouth of the inlet。 Suddenly I saw a boat coming in the dead timber。 There were three men in it； two of whom were paddling。 They yelled like mad men as they caught sight of us； and one of them waved a bottle in the air。
'They're Indians；' said Uncle Eb。 'Drunk as lords。 Guess we'd better git out o' the way。'
I put about and with a hearty pull made for the other side of the lake； three miles away。 The Indians came after us； their yells echoing in the far forest。 Suddenly one of them lifted his rifle； as if taking aim at us； and； bang it went the ball ricocheting across our bows。
'Crazy drunk；' said Uncle Eb； 'an' they're in fer trouble。 Pull with all yer might'
I did that same putting my arms so stiffly to their task I feared the oars would break
In a moment another ball came splintering the gunwales right between us； but fortunately； wcll above the water line。 Being half a mile from shore I saw we were in great peril。 Uncle Eb reached for his rifle； his hand trembling。
'Sink 'em；' I shouted； 'an' do it quick or they'll sink us。'
My old companion took careful aim and his ball hit them right on the starboard bow below the water line。 A splash told where it had landed。 They stopped yelling。 The man in the bow clapped his hat against the side of the boat。
'Guess we've gin 'em a little business t' ten' to；' said Uncle Eb as he made haste to load his rifle。
The Indian at the bow was lifting his rifle again。 He seemed to reel as he took aim。 He was very slow about it。 I kept pulling as I watched him。 I saw that their boat was slowly sInking。 I had a strange fear that he would hit me in the stomach。 I dodged when I saw the flash of his rifle。 His ball struck the water； ten feet away from us； and threw a spray into my face。
Uncle Eb had lifted his rifle to shoot again。 Suddenly the Indian； who had shot at us； went overboard。 In a second they were all in the water； their boat bottom up。
'Now take yer time；' said Uncle Eb coolly； a frown upon his face。
'They'll drown；' said I。
'Don't care if they do； consam 'em；' he answered。 'They're some o' them St Regis devils； an' when they git whisky in 'em they'd jes' soon kill ye as look at ye。 They am' no better 'n rats。'
We kept on our way and by and by a wind came up that gave us both some comfort； for we knew it would soon blow them ashore。 Ab Thomas had come to our camp and sat with Tip and Gerald when we got there。 We told of our adventure and then Ab gave us a bad turn； and a proper appreciation of our luck； by telling us that they were a gang of cut…throats … the worst in the wilderness。
'They'd a robbed ye sure；' he said。 'It's the same gang 'at killed a man on Cat Mountain las' summer； an' I'll bet a dollar on it。'
Tip had everything ready for our journey home。 Each day Gerald had grown paler and thinner。 As we wrapped him in a shawl and tenderly helped him into the wagon I read his doom in his face。 We saw so much of that kind of thing in our stern climate we knew what it meant。 Our fun was over。 We sat in silence； speeding down the long hills in the fading light of the afternoon。 Those few solemn hours in which I heard oniy the wagon's rumble and the sweet calls of the whip…poor…will…waves of music on a sea of silence…started me in a way of thought which has led me high and low these many years and still invites me。 The day was near its end when we got to the first big clearing。 From the top of a high hill we could see above the far forest； the red rim of the setting sun； big with winding from the skein of day； that was now flying off the tree…tops in the west。
We stopped to feed the horses and to take a bite of jerked venison； wrapped ourselves warmer； for it was now dunk and chilly； and went on again。 The road went mostly downhill； going out of the woods； and we could make good time。 It was near midnight when we drove in at our gate。 There was a light in the sitting…room and Uncle Eb and I went in with Gerald at once。 Elizabeth Brower knelt at the feet of her son； unbuttoned his coat and took off his mu