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Long, William Joseph, 1866-1952

"Ways of Wood Folk"

Through the glass I made him out against
the shore, as he plodded along in my direction.
I had long been curious to know how near a bear would come to a man
without discovering him. Here was an opportunity. The wind at sunset
had been in my favor; now there was not the faintest breath stirring.
Hiding the canoe, I sat down in the sand on a little point, where
dense bushes grew down to within a few feet of the water's edge. Head
and shoulders were in plain sight above the water-grass. My intentions
were wholly peaceable, notwithstanding the rifle that lay across my
knees. It was near the mating season, when Mooween's temper is often
dangerous; and one felt much more comfortable with the chill of the
cold iron in his hands.
Mooween came rapidly along the shore meanwhile, evidently anxious to
reach the other end of the lake. In the mating season bears use the
margins of lakes and streams as natural highways. As he drew nearer
and nearer I gazed with a kind of fascination at the big unconscious
brute. He carried his head low, and dropped his feet with a heavy
splash into the shallow water.
At twenty yards he stopped as if struck, with head up and one paw
lifted, sniffing suspiciously. Even then he did not see me, though
only the open shore lay between us. He did not use his eyes at all,
but laid his great head back on his shoulders and sniffed in every
direction, rocking his brown muzzle up and down the while, so as to
take in every atom from the tainted air.


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