"Don't you bother about that; let it go," answered Joe, whose business
of guiding was profitable enough for him. "'Tain't enough for the skin,
anyhow. Nary a finer one has been taken out o' Maine in the last five
years; and mighty lucky you Britishers were to git a chance of a
bear-hunt at all. Old Bruin must have been powerful hungry to come
around our camp."
There was a grand breakfast before the travellers broke camp that
morning. The guides and Doc--who had got accustomed to the luxury during
visits to settlers and lumber-camps--feasted off bear-steaks. Cyrus and
the boys, American and English, declined to touch it. The whole
appearance of Bruin as he lay stretched on the ground the night before
made their "department of the interior" revolt against it.
When a start was made for the settlement, Joe bundled up the skin, and,
as a tribute of respect to Neal's "game blood," carried it, in addition
to his heavy pack, for a distance of four miles over the desolate
_brulee_ and across a soft, miry bog. On reaching the farm clearing, he
cut the stem of a tall cedar bush, which he bent into the shape of a
hoop, binding the ends together with cedar bark.
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