cat, only swifter. Besides, none of us could climb a tree.

It was at that moment that Tish had one of those inspirations that make
her so dependable in emergencies. Feeling round in the tent for a
possible weapon, she touched a large ham, from which we had broiled a
few slices at supper. In her shadowy form there was both purpose and
high courage. With a single sweeping gesture she flung the ham at the
bear so accurately that we heard the thud with which it struck.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bill called from a safe distance. Even
then we realized that his restraint of speech was a pose, pure and
simple. "If you make him angry he'll tear up the whole place."

But Tish did not deign to answer. The rain had ceased, and suddenly the
moon came out and illuminated the whole scene. We saw the bear sniffing
at the ham, which lay on the ground. Then he picked it up in his jaws
and stood looking about.

Tish said later that the moment his teeth were buried in the ham she
felt safe. I can still see the majestic movement with which she walked
out of the tent and waved her arms.

"Now, scat with you!" she said firmly. "Scat!"

He "scatted." Snarling through his nose, for fear of dropping the ham,
he turned and fled up the mountainside. In the open space Tish stood the
conqueror. She yawned and glanced about.

"Going to be a nice night, after all," she said. "Now, Bill, bring me
that revolver, and if I catch you meddling with it again I'll put that