great bear only a few paces from her.

It was too late to retreat; and seeing that the animal was very hungry,
and determined to come to close quarters, she rose, and placed her back
against a small tree, holding her knife close to her breast, and in a
straight line with the bear. The shaggy monster came on. She remained
motionless, her eyes steadily fixed upon her enemy, and as his huge arms
closed around her, she slowly drove the knife into his heart. The bear
uttered a hideous cry, and sank dead at her feet. When the Indian
returned, he found the courageous woman taking the skin from the carcass
of the formidable brute.

The wolf they hold in great contempt, and scarcely deign to consider him
as an enemy. Peter Nogan assured me that he never was near enough to one
in his life to shoot it; that, except in large companies, and when greatly
pressed by hunger, they rarely attack men. They hold the lynx, or
wolverine, in much dread, as they often spring from trees upon their prey,
fastening upon the throat with their sharp teeth and claws, from which a
person in the dark could scarcely free himself without first receiving a
dangerous wound. The cry of this animal is very terrifying, resembling the
shrieks of a human creature in mortal agony.

My husband was anxious to collect some of the native Indian airs, as they
all sing weil, and have a fine ear for music, but all his efforts proved
abortive. "John," he said to young Nogan (who played very creditably on
the flute, and had just concluded the popular air of "Sweet Home"),
"cannot you play me one of jour own songs?"

"Yes,--but no good."