MONNEHAN. 163

here an’ get a look at ’im! Thot’s vaght
Oi got up ’ere fur, to get a good look at
*im! Right up now, byes, an’ get a good
look at ’im! Look out fur me hat there!”

My brother hastily ran and got and
handed me the gun and instantly was up
the tree along with Monnehan, peering for-
ward and back, left and right, everywhere.
But no sign, no sound or scent of any bear
anywhere.

By this time my father had arrived with
his pitchfork and a very tired little boy.
He sat down on the grass, and, wearily
wiping his forehead, he said to Monnehan,

“Mr. Monnehan, how big was the bear
that you saw?”

“Well, now, Squire, upon the sowl o* me,
he was fully the size of a very extraordi-
nary black dog,” answered Mr. Monnehan,
as he descended and came and stood close
to my father, as if to defend him with his
club. Father rose soon after and, with
just the least tinge of impatience and vex-