Mounting to the top of these they peeped over and saw, at the bottom of a ravine beneath, the mouth of a cave that appeared to extend under the rocks a short distance. In this cave, lying with his head on his paws, they distinctly saw a large bear, fast asleep. He was, however, in such a position that it would be very hard to get a good shot at him. The Colonel then thought of a plan to make him come out. To be sure they might have hurled stones at him or shouted, but in either case the bear might have been frightened and drawn himself into his cave, entirely out of sight, or he might have rushed up the rocks faster than they would like to have him come. The Colonel wanted him to come out of his cave, but to stay down at the bottom of the ravine. So he whispered to his man to unroll his long turban and to get out on the branches of a tree that overhung the mouth of the cave. Then he was to lower the turban down and tickle the bear’s nose. The man did as he was told, and, as the turban was just long enough to reach the bear’s nose, he was able to tickle him nicely. At first the bear just fidgeted a little and then he made a dab with his paw at the supposed fly that was worrying him. But the turban continued to tickle him, and at last he woke up with a start. When he saw the turban hanging before him he made a snap at it, and then the man jerked it away. [Illustration: THE BEAR GAVE THE TURBAN A VIGOROUS PULL.] Up jumped the bear, just like a cat after a handkerchief. He made a bound after the turban and seized it with his paws and teeth. He jumped so suddenly and gave the turban such a vigorous pull that the man came very near being jerked out of the tree, which might have been bad for him, but our Colonel, who was ready with his rifle, fired and killed the bear instantly. He was a big fellow and had a splendid skin. When the Colonel sailed for home he carried with him half a dozen bear and tiger skins. They were all fine ones, but the best of them, a magnificent skin that had once belonged to a very large and savage Bengal tiger, was a particular favorite with him, and he now has it on his library floor, just before the big grate where he sits and reads on winter evenings. And yet he did not kill the tiger to which the skin belonged. He cannot point to it as an evidence of his bravery and skill in the jungles of India. It is the skin of the tiger that the elephant killed with his knee. A SUGAR CAMP. When I was a boy I knew no more about a “sugar camp” than I knew of a molasses-candy fort. [Illustration: THE SUGAR CAMP.] In fact I would probably have thought one as ridiculous as the other, if it had been mentioned to me. This was because I did not live in a maple-sugar country. I had eaten maple-sugar, but I had no idea how it was made, and when I first saw a sugar-camp, out in the woods, I was both surprised and interested.