considerable of his natural assurance.

The conclusion he reached was that it would be just as well if he and
bruin did not meet. Excellent as was his Remington, it was not a
repeating rifle, and he was afraid that one shot, even if well aimed,
would not be enough.

"If I had a Henry, which shoots sixteen shots in sixteen seconds, I
could fill him so full of lead that he couldn't run fast enough to
overtake me if I didn't happen to kill him."

But the Henry, which he desired so much, was beyond his reach, and it
was idle to wish for it.

Accordingly, he slung his gun over his shoulder in true sportsman style,
and strode along the path until the greater part of the distance was
passed, when, like his friends, he found a fallen tree at a convenient
spot and sat down for a rest.

Herbert, in his luxurious home in the city, had become accustomed to
irregular hours, so that it was now the most natural thing in the world
for him to fall asleep and not open his eyes until he shivered with
cold and it was growing dark around him.

He started up in no little surprise, and, recalling where he was,
hastened along the path toward the camp.

"They'll be worried almost to death about me," was his thought, "and I
shouldn't wonder if they start out to hunt me up. Ah!"