But the
young naturalist once stood face to face with this ugly customer under
very different circumstances.
About forty miles north of Lawrence lives an old man named Joseph
Lewis. He owns about five hundred acres of land, and in summer he
"farms it" very industriously; but as soon as the trapping season
approaches he leaves his property to the care of his hired men, and
spends most of the time in the woods. About two-thirds of his farm is
still in its primeval state, and bears, wild-cats, and panthers abound
in great numbers. The village boys are never more delighted than when
the winter vacation comes, and they can gain the permission of their
parents to spend a fortnight with "Uncle Joe," as they call him.
The old man is always glad to see them, and enlivens the long winter
evenings with many a thrilling story of his early life. During the
winter that had just passed, Frank, in company with his cousin Archie
Winters, of whom more hereafter, paid a visit to Uncle Joe. One cold,
stormy morning, as they sat before a blazing fire, cracking
hickory-nuts, the farmer burst suddenly into the house, which was
built of logs, and contained but one room, and commenced taking down
his rifle.
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