Brave and True | Page 9

hole
scooped out of the earth, whither he had retired with a substantial
coating of fat upon him, as a protection against the chills of winter.
The nap had gradually reduced the thickness of this protection and now
the hungry animal, weary of search for berries and roots, contemplated
me with a look which seemed to express that a morsel of something
more substantial would not be out of place.
I commenced to retire cautiously, but I had not taken many steps when
there came a flash, followed by a sudden report, and I staggered and
fell on my knees--shot in the leg.
The bear had accidentally pulled the trigger of my gun, and the bullet
intended for him had found instead a billet in poor me. I tried to
staunch the wound with my handkerchief, but the blood flowed freely,
and I soon began to feel exhausted.
I felt my knees quivering and giving way beneath me, and a deadly
faintness crept over me. A mist came over my eyes, and I seemed to
sink into a deep sleep, the landscape slowly vanishing, and even the big
bear standing up before me disappearing in the darkness which
enveloped everything.
The rescuing party sent in search discovered me, still breathing, the
thick snow into which I had fallen having congealed over my wound
and stopped the flow of blood.

The bear had fled without touching me, the report of the rifle having
apparently proved too much for his nerves. He did not live long,
however, for the following day he was tracked to his underground
home, and there despatched. His skin is among my most cherished
trophies, and I never look at it without remembering my first and last
encounter with a grizzly.
CHAPTER SIX.
UP THE MOUNTAIN, BY FRANCES E CROMPTON.
Little Kirl kept the goats on the mountain. Little Kirl was very little, his
legs were very short, his body was very round and chubby, and he
could certainly not have overtaken an active and badly-disposed goat,
whatever had been the consequences. So it was a fortunate thing that
they did not require much herding. He had only to drive them to the
pastures on the mountain in the morning, and home again in the
evening, and the young ones followed the old ones, round whose necks
the tinkling bells were hung.
Little Kirl had only begun to keep the goats this summer, and he
thought when one has become a real live goat-herd one is in a fair way
to become a man. How all the other little boys in the village must envy
him--poor things, not yet promoted to manhood! And he had a crooked
stick also, and a little pipe on which he could really play several notes;
and this was the way he went up the mountain.
First there were the goats to be driven out of the gate, and what a thing
it was to walk after them, playing those three notes with variations, and
trying not to look too proud of himself! It was not a very large village,
to be sure, the little cluster of brown chalets and the tiny pink-washed
church beside the pine-wood; but to Kirl it was a whole world looking
on and admiring. He blew his three notes louder with a more and more
cheerful trill all down the street. At the cross-roads below the church
the greatest caution had to be exercised to keep the frisky kids from
going the wrong way, but it was worth the trouble. Only think how well
it looked to drive them close together, and to fence them off, first on

one side and then on the other, with the crooked stick, and then, with an
air as if he thought nothing of it, turn them all successfully into the
narrow path, and strike up the three notes more gaily than ever! It was
the pride of Kirl's heart to count the goats up in a business-like manner,
and call them by name, and shout "thou" to them, as if he were quite
hard-hearted, instead of loving them with all his might.
There was one goat in particular that was the pride of Kirl's heart; she
was not more than a kid, and snowy white, with a beautiful little head
and a bright eye, a credit to any man's herd. How little Kirl loved her!
He called her Liesl, as if she had been his sister. The path led upwards
first through the pine-woods, with moss a foot deep on either side,
where the wood was damp with the dividing arms of the stream, and
the moss on the trees hung in solemn grey clusters, like banners
swinging from the branches. And then the path grew steeper and
runnels of water dripped down