I looked for my rifle. Fortunately it had not sunk deeply, and I soon found it. My boots were behind me, but I staid not to look for them--being smitten with a wholesome dread of the place where I had left them. I was not long in retreating from the arroyo; and, mounting, I galloped back to the trail. It was sundown before I reached camp; where I was met by the inquiries of my wondering companions: "Did you come across the 'goats?'" "Where's your boots?" "Whether have you been hunting or fishing?" I answered all these questions by relating my adventures; and, for that night, I was again the hero of the camp-fire. THE BEAR-STEAK. A GASTRONOMIC ADVENTURE. The Englishman's predilection for a beef-steak is almost proverbial; but we fancy it would take some time to reconcile John Bull in general to a bear-steak, however much we might expatiate to him on its excellence and the superiority of its flavor over that of his old-established favorite, however confidently we might assure him that the bear was a most delicate feeder, selecting the juiciest fruits of the forest and the most esculent roots of the earth for his ordinary nourishment. It might be supposed that this dislike to bear's flesh as an article of food arose from our national aversion to every thing that is outlandish; but the following gastronomic adventure, related in the pages of a modern French traveler, proves that our frog-eating neighbors find it just as difficult to surmount their aversion to feeding on the flesh of Master Bruin, as the most sturdy and thoroughbred Englishman among us. M. Alexandre Dumas, after a long mountainous walk, arrived about four o'clock one fine autumn afternoon at the inn at Martigny. Exercise and the keen mountain air had combined to sharpen his appetite, and he inquired from the host, with some degree of eagerness, at what hour the _table-d'hôte_ dinner was usually served. "At half past five," replied the host. "That will do very well," rejoined M. Dumas; "I shall then have time to visit the old castle before dinner."