MUSIC-LOVING BEARS. 33

deep, sweeping waters of the Calipoola;
and Lyte kept on, and the wild, sweet
music leaped up and swept through the de-
lighted and dancing boughs above. Then
father reached back to the fire and thrust
a long, burning bough deeper into the dy-
ing embers and the glittering sparks leaped
and laughed and danced and swept out and
up and up as if to companion with the
stars. Then Lyte knew. He did not hear,
he did not see, he only felt; but the fiddle
forsook his fingers and his chin in a second,
and his gun was to his face with the muzzle
thrust down between the oxen. And then
my father’s gentle hand reached out, lay
on that long, black, Kentucky rifle barrel,
and it dropped down, slept once more at
the fiddler’s side, and again the melodies;
and the very stars came down, believe me,
to listen, for they never seemed so big and
so close by before. The bears sat down on
their haunches at last, and one of them
kept opening his mouth and putting out his
red tongue, as if he really wanted to taste