A MOUNTAIN MIRRORED.
We were again quietly paddling up the north shore of this grand river, the sunlight striking the opposite side, but not yet reaching the still surface of the stream. The chief's canoe stopped and ours moved up alongside, and our leading man and myself, without a word spoken, got into the larger canoe, and the little brave with his gun got into ours in front, and the larger man behind; and thus rearranged they started across the river. I was mystified by these movements. The two women near me kept up a low conversation, looking constantly meanwhile into the water. They landed soon at the south shore, the river here being but little over half a mile wide, and the little brave going ashore started straight up the face of the mountain, which appeared perpendicular, but evidently was not, as brushwood and some small trees covered three fourths of it, the balance being rock, colored with mosses and lichens. The surface of the river showed this in all its hues, but with inverse lines, just as plainly as the best mirror, and this had been forced on my attention by looking repeatedly at the river surface as the two women near me continued to do. Ah! at last I see the hunter. He is now nearly half the distance from the canoe to the mountain top. I follow with my sight the direction in which he is climbing, and see there a large black bear quietly feeding on something. The hunter is moving cautiously, and now we see him stop and aim, and the smoke of the gun and the disappearance of the bear are all observed before the report reaches us. The shot was unsuccessful, as, under my observation, all Indian shooting has been so far. The hunter in this case, still seen in the reflection, hesitated a little, perhaps watching the bear, which we could not
