That winter several of the men relied upon for hunting visited a distant tribe, and meat grew scarce. Since the departure of Caughnega and Maman, Rodney went about more freely and the old chief loaned his rifle and allowed him to hunt. He and Conrad made several excursions together. On one of these trips they set out with but little food and wandered for several days, nearly starved and half frozen. On the third day Conrad, discovering a hole half way up the trunk of a big tree, stopped. "Vat you tink?" asked Rodney, mimicking his companion's speech, for now they were excellent friends. "I tink dat one goot hole for bear, ain't so?" was the reply. "You suppose an old fellow has a nest in there?" "I tink some look in be goot." They cut down a sapling standing near, "lodging" it against the big tree. Then they built a fire and, collecting the tips of green boughs and long grass damp with frost, tied them into a bundle at the end of a pole. While Conrad "shinned" up the sapling till the pole would reach the hole, Rodney lighted the bundle which smoked like a "smudge." Conrad thrust the smoking bundle into the hole and, a minute later, a wheezing sound was heard. Bruin was there and was waking from his winter sleep! Rodney seized the rifle while Conrad slid to the ground. But the bear looked out and made no effort to descend. Conrad then relighted the torch and climbed up far enough to thrust it in the bear's face. This angered him and he began to back down the tree. Unlike Rodney's first encounter with a bear, the lad now had ample time for taking steady aim and the brute fell mortally wounded. How delicious the meal, which followed, tasted after their long fast! Taking as much of the choicest cuts as they could carry, they returned to the encampment to find the Indians in a famished condition. Ahneota for the two previous days had given his allowance of food to the children. The winter, what with hunting and trapping, passed quickly. The wild, free life with all its hardships and annoyances appealed to Rodney, and he came to understand how children taken captives by the Indians, and later returned to their parents, would occasionally run away and rejoin the red folk. His home ties were too strong, however, for him to entertain such a thought, and he lay awake many nights wondering how he might make his escape. The severity of the winter had greatly weakened Ahneota. The skin was drawn over his cheekbones like parchment. He was so lame with rheumatism that he needed constant care and the boy served him in many ways.