We thus pursued the now double track, until the shades of evening stole over the forest, and imparted a mysterious solemnity to the lonely solitudes, which we had invaded. After a hard day’s work, we looked out for a spot in which to rest for the night. We resolved to bivouac by a huge elm, whose hollow trunk rose without branch or twig to break its symmetry, for nearly sixty feet from the ground. We dug a hole in the snow, more than four feet deep, spreading our blankets on the bottom of it. On one side we were sheltered by the elm; on the other three by our snowy circumvallation. Our next care was to light a blazing fire, which we did in the hollow of the tree; after which we laid ourselves down to sleep, Jean Baptiste having orders to keep the first watch, and to awake any of us, whom he might find getting stiff. In five minutes Blungle was snoring as comfortably as if he were reposing on his own pillow in Bloomsbury. I was about turning the corner of consciousness, when McQuaigh, who was stretched beside me, and who never seemed to shut more than one eye at a time, started suddenly to his feet, and seizing the axe which was resting against the tree, raised it to his shoulder, and stood intently watching the hollow in which the fire was burning. He was quite a picture, standing out, as he did, in fine relief from the surrounding darkness, as the crackling flames threw their ruddy glare on his brawny frame and furrowed visage. But his sudden movement indisposing me for the artistic mood, I was at once on my feet beside him, and it was not till then that I heard sounds proceed from the hollow trunk, which gave me some clue to what had so suddenly called him into action. I had but brief time for consideration, for, in a moment or two afterwards, down came a heavy body into the fire, scattering the faggots about in all directions. Blungle, who was still asleep, was aroused by one of the blazing embers grazing his nose, and on jumping up precipitated himself into the embrace of a shaggy bear, which was about to treat him to a fatal hug, when McQuaigh’s axe descended with terrific force upon its skull, which it cleft in twain. The slaughtered brute fell on its side carrying Blungle along with it, who, when he was removed, was nearly as insensible as the bear.