some balls of it in the fire now kindled to burn during the night, and we then betook ourselves to rest under shelter of our tent.
I awoke at dawn and aroused my little party. My first idea was to examine the clay balls, which I found baked hard and finely glazed, but too much melted down by the heat—a fault which, seeing the excellent quality of the clay, I knew it would be well worth while to remedy.
After breakfast, and our accustomed devotions, we harnessed the cart, and took the way to the bear's den. Fritz headed the party, and, coming in sight of the entrance to the cave, called out softly:
“Make haste and you will see a whole crowd of wild turkeys, who seem to have come to attend the funeral obsequies of their respected friend and neighbour, Bruin, here. But there appears to be a jealous watcher who is unwilling to admit the visitors to the bed of state!”
The Watcher, as Fritz called him, was an immensely large bird, with a sort of comb on his head, and a loose fleshy skin hanging from beneath the beak. Part of the neck was bare, wrinkled and purplish-red, while around it, resting on the shoulders, was a downy collar of soft white feathers. The plumage was greyish-brown, marked here and there with white patches; the feet appeared to be armed with strong claws. This great bird guarded the entrance to the cave, occasionally retiring into it himself for a few minutes, but as soon as the other birds came pressing in after him, he hurried out again and they were forced to retire.
We stopped to observe this curious scene, and were startled suddenly by a mighty rush of wings in the air above us. We looked up; at the same moment Fritz fired, and an enormous bird fell heavily head foremost on the rocks, by which its neck was broken, while blood flowed from a wound in the breast.
We had been holding back the dogs, but they, with Fritz, now rushed towards the cave, the birds rising around them and de-
