Yes; the consciousness finally came to the terrified Irishman that he was still in the land of the living. There was not a wound or scratch upon his person, nor had the food been disturbed, except by the mere act of displacement. “Begorrah, Teddy O’Doherty, but it’s your own mither’s son that ye be,” he soliloquized, not a little delighted; “but it’s so different that ye feel, that ye’ll have to have somebody to inthrodooce ye to yersilf. I wonder ef that ould craythur is watching fur me.” The Celt cautiously raised his head and looked about him. There was nothing to be seen of the dreaded beast, look in whatever direction he chose. “Ef it wasn’t me that wasn’t me, but the baast, then it’s mesilf that would be afther ating Teddy O’Doherty, and be the same towken that I haven’t, I’m sartin the baast isn’t human,” concluded Teddy, as he slowly clambered to his feet and furtively glanced about him. “Thank the good Lord, and the Vargin, that I’m alive!” he exclaimed, gratefully, as he began picking up his provisions again. “I s’pose the craythur wasn’t hungry, and whin he was pokin’ his nose about me, it’s likely that he was thrying to pick me pockets.” Filled with wonder at his unaccountable escape from the monster, the Celt begun his walk homeward again. He reached and passed up and over the ridge without discovering any thing of his dreaded enemy. Turning aside, he found his horse quietly grazing where he had left him, and, deeming him as safe there as any where else, he permitted him to remain. He was now within a short distance of the camp of his friends, and was proceeding in his quiet manner, when a cold thrill ran through him at the sound of that appalling bark. Turning his head, he saw the beast on a full gallop, coming down the ridge, and scarcely a hundred feet distant. It was like the explosion of a bombshell behind Teddy, and he broke into a wild run, bounding through the timber and up to the camp-fire with the exclamations that have been recorded. A horde of mounted Blackfeet, or a dozen grizzly bears, could not have created greater consternation. Old Stebbins and Black Tom, as will be remembered, had been conversing about the mysterious creature, and their minds were full of it. Instantly they leaped to their feet, and stared out in the gloom. “Whar is he?” demanded Black Tom. “Close behint me,” replied the terrified Irishman, running around to the opposite side of the camp-fire. “I don’t see him--b’ars and bufflers! thar he comes!” Unconsciously the two trappers took their position side by side. They had stood by each other in many fearful and dangerous scenes, and neither would desert the other at this time. As Tom spoke, both he and his companion caught sight of the hideous brute, coming through the bushes straight toward them. It was walking quite slowly, and at intervals gave forth that peculiar bark, which had a strange, cavernous sound.