He struck up several of their guns as they were endeavouring to aim at the now motionless bear, fearing that his hounds might suffer by their fire, and stooping down, whence he could distinctly see the pale gums and tongue, as his hounds grappled the neck of the animal, announced the death of Bruin, and the termination of the hunt. The hounds soon abandoned their inanimate victim, and its sinewy limbs relaxing, the devoted cur rolled out a lifeless body. “How like you this specimen of our wild sports?” inquired Boone, turning to Glenn, as the rest proceeded to skin and dress the bear preparatory for its conveyance to the camp. “It is exciting, if not terrific and cruel,” replied Glenn, musing. “None could be more eager than yourself in the chase,’ said Boone. “True,” replied Glenn; “and notwithstanding the uninitiated may for an instant revolt at the spilling of blood, yet the chase has ever been considered the noblest and the most innocent of sports. The animals hunted are often an evil while running at large, being destructive or dangerous; but even if they were harmless in their nature, they are still necessary or desirable for the support or comfort of man. Blood of a similar value is spilt everywhere without the least compunction. The knife daily pierces the neck of the swine, and the kitchen wench wrings off the head of the fowl while she hums a ditty. This is far better than hunting down our own species on the battle-field, or ruining and being ruined at the gaming-table. I think I shall be content in this region.” “And you will no doubt be an expert hunter, if I have any judgment in such matters,” replied Boone. “I wonder that Joe has not yet made his appearance,” remarked Glenn, approaching the bear; “I expected ere this to have seen him triumphing over his fallen enemy.” “What kind of a gun had he?” inquired Boone. “A large musket,” said Glenn, recollecting the enormous explosion that seemed to jar the whole woods like an earthquake; “it must have been Joe who fired—he had certainly overcharged the gun, and I fear it has burst in his hands, which may account for his absence.” “Be not uneasy,” replied Boone; “for I can assure you from the peculiar sound it made that it did nothing more than rebound violently; besides, those guns very rarely burst. But here comes Sneak, (I think they call him so,) no doubt having some tidings of your man. It seems he has not been idle. He has a brace of racoons in his hands.” The tall slim form of Sneak was seen coming down the path. Ever and anon he cast his eyes from one hand to the other, regarding with no ordinary interest the dead animals he bore. “I did not hear him fire,” remarked Glenn. “He may have killed them with stones,” said Boone; and as Sneak drew near, he continued, with a smile, “they are nothing more than a brace of his terriers, that doubtless Bruin dispatched, and which may well be spared, notwithstanding Sneak’s seeming sorrow.”