"An old man went out into the woods one morning with his little grandson
to look for the oxen, which had strayed from the clearing. They had not
gone many yards from the enclosure when they heard a crackling and
rustling among the underwood and dry timber that strewed the ground. The
old man, thinking it was caused by the cattle they were looking for, bade
the little boy go forward and drive them on the track; but in a few
he heard a fearful cry from the child, and hurrying forward through the
tangled brushwood, saw the poor little boy in the deadly grasp of a huge
black bear, which was making off at a fast trot with his prey.
"The old man was unarmed, and too feeble to pursue the dreadful beast. He
could only wring his hands and rend his gray hairs in grief and terror;
but his lamentations could not restore the child to life. A band of
hunters and lumberers, armed with rifles and knives, turned out to beat
the woods, and were not long in tracking the savage animal to his retreat
in a neighbouring cedar swamp. A few fragments of the child's dress were
all that remained of him; but the villagers had the satisfaction of
killing the great she-bear with, her two half-grown cubs. The magistrates
of the district gave them a large sum for shooting these creatures, and
the skins were sold, and the money given to the parents of the little boy;
but no money could console them for the loss of their beloved child.
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