ABOUT ten o'clock the water was high enough to float the boat, and Caspar, once more betaking himself to his oars, found himself being carried by the tide up one of the most crooked rivers he had ever seen. The boat's head did not point the same way for half an hour at one time. The banks were very lonely, low but not marshy, and covered with a low growth of pines and glossy-leaved oaks mixed with holly and laurel, while now and then from some low ground came the warm spicy breath of the magnolia. Caspar saw no signs of human habitation. "I wonder where all the people are?" he thought. "The general says the country is well settled, so I suppose I shall come to them some time or other. I shall have to tie up by and by, I suppose, when the tide turns. I wonder what time it is?" And then he remembered Jonathan Elmer's watch, and took it out. It was a plain double-cased one, with the owner's name engraved on the inside, where was a small water-colour drawing of a pretty dark-haired little girl. Caspar looked at the picture till the tears came to his eyes. "It is like our little Gertrude, who went to heaven so long ago," said he. "Oh, if I only knew what they were all about at this moment!" Just then a sound fell on his ear strange to hear in the midst of such a wilderness—a child's voice calling for help in tones of distress and alarm. Caspar turned his boat's head toward the bank, but a thought made him pause for a moment. He had heard of an animal in the woods of America which imitated the sound of children's voices in order to draw compassionate travellers into its clutches. * Another cry—articulate this time—made him hesitate no longer: "Father, father! Come to Kitty, quick!" * This story used to be told of the panther, and believed when I was young; and I believe it is still credited by old woodsmen. In an instant, Caspar had reached the shore, and sprang up the bank. He pushed on through the thick bushes, and came upon a curious scene. A pretty little girl about eight years old stood with her back against a tree, brandishing with all her strength a dry stick which she had snatched up, while about four feet away was a black bear sitting on his haunches and regarding the child with great attention. The animal seemed rather curious and interested than angry. Kitty had no notion of falling an unresisting prey, and brandished her pine stick womanfully, while she called for help at the top of her voice. The moment her eyes fell on Caspar, she exclaimed,— "Oh, Mr. Man, please to drive away that thing." Caspar shouted and drew a pistol from his belt, but the bear had no mind to wait for any such arguments. He dropped on his fore legs with an angry snarl and shuffled away. The moment he was out of sight, Kitty dropped her weapon, and, tumbling all in a heap at the bottom of the tree, began to cry bitterly.