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turn across country to the Big Ivy； although； said the landlord； you can ride over Mitchell just as easy as anywherea lady rode plump over the peak of it last week； and never got off her horse。 You are not obliged to go； at Big Tom's； you can go any way you please。
Besides； Big Tom himself weighed in the scale more than Mount Mitchell； and not to see him was to miss one of the most characteristic productions of the country； the typical backwoodsman； hunter； guide。 So we rode down Bolling Creek； through a pretty； broken country； crossed the Caney River； and followed it up a few miles to Wilson's plantation。 There are little intervales along the river； where hay is cut and corn grown； but the region is not much cleared； and the stock browse about in the forest。 Wilson is the agent of the New York owner of a tract of some thirteen thousand acres of forest； including the greater portion of Mount Mitchell； a wilderness well stocked with bears and deer； and full of streams abounding in trout。 It is also the playground of the rattlesnake。 With all these attractions Big Tom's life is made lively in watching game poachers； and endeavoring to keep out the foraging cattle of the few neighbors。 It is not that the cattle do much injury in the forest； but the looking after them is made a pretense for roaming around； and the roamers are liable to have to defend themselves against the deer； or their curiosity is excited about the bears； and lately they have taken to exploding powder in the streams to kill the fish。
Big Tom's plantation has an openwork stable； an ill…put…together frame house； with two rooms and a kitchen； and a veranda in front； a loft； and a spring…house in the rear。 Chickens and other animals have free run of the premises。 Some fish…rods hung in the porch； and hunter's gear depended on hooks in the passage…way to the kitchen。 In one room were three beds； in the other two； only one in the kitchen。 On the porch was a loom； with a piece of cloth in process。 The establishment had the air of taking care of itself。 Neither Big Tom nor his wife was at home。 Sunday seemed to be a visiting day； and the travelers had met many parties on horseback。 Mrs。 Wilson was away for a visit of a day or two。 One of the sons； who was lounging on the veranda； was at last induced to put up the horses； a very old woman； who mumbled and glared at the visitors； was found in the kitchen； but no intelligible response could be got out of her。 Presently a bright little girl； the housekeeper in charge； appeared。 She said that her paw had gone up to her brother's （her brother was just married and lived up the river in the house where Mr。 Murchison stayed when he was here） to see if he could ketch a bear that had been rootin' round in the corn…field the night before。 She expected him back by sundownby dark anyway。 'Les he'd gone after the bear； and then you could n't tell when he would come。
It appeared that Big Tom was a thriving man in the matter of family。 More boys appeared。 Only one was married； but four had 〃got their time。〃 As night approached； and no Wilson； there was a good deal of lively and loud conversation about the stock and the chores； in all of which the girl took a leading and intelligent part； showing a willingness to do her share； but not to have all the work put upon her。 It was time to go down the road and hunt up the cows； the mule had disappeared and must be found before dark； a couple of steers hadn't turned up since the day before yesterday； and in the midst of the gentle contention as to whose business all this was； there was an alarm of cattle in the corn…patch； and the girl started off on a run in that direction。 It was due to the executive ability of this small girl； after the cows had been milked and the mule chased and the boys properly stirred up； that we had supper。 It was of the oilcloth； iron fork； tin spoon； bacon； hot bread and honey variety； distinguished； however； from all meals we had endured or enjoyed before by the introduction of fried eggs （as the breakfast next morning was by the presence of chicken）； and it was served by the active maid with right hearty good…will and genuine hospitable intent。
While it was in progress； after nine o'clock； Big Tom arrived； and； with a simple greeting； sat down and attacked the supper and began to tell about the bear。 There was not much to tell except that he hadn't seen the bear； and that； judged by his tracks and his sloshing around； he must be a big one。 But a trap had been set for him； and he judged it wouldn't be long before we had some bear meat。 Big Tom Wilson； as he is known all over this part of the State； would not attract attention from his size。 He is six feet and two inches tall； very spare and muscular； with sandy hair； long gray beard； and honest blue eyes。 He has a reputation for great strength and endurance； a man of native simplicity and mild manners。 He had been rather expecting us from what Mr。 Murchison wrote； he wrote （his son had read out the letter） that Big Tom was to take good care of us； and anybody that Mr。 Murchison sent could have the best he'd got。
Big Tom joined us in our room after supper。 This apartment； with two mighty feather…beds； was hung about with all manner of stuffy family clothes； and had in one end a vast cavern for a fire。 The floor was uneven； and the hearthstones billowy。 When the fire was lighted； the effect of the bright light in the cavern and the heavy shadows in the room was Rembrandtish。 Big Tom sat with us before the fire and told bear stories。 Talk？ Why； it was not the least effort。 The stream flowed on without a ripple。 〃Why； the old man；〃 one of the sons confided to us next morning； 〃can begin and talk right over Mount Mitchell and all the way back； and never make a break。〃 Though Big Tom had waged a lifelong warfare with the bears； and taken the hide off at least a hundred of them； I could not see that he had any vindictive feeling towards the varmint； but simply an insatiable love of killing him； and he regarded him in that half…humorous light in which the bear always appears to those who study him。 As to deerhe couldn't tell how many of them he had slain。 But Big Tom was a gentleman： he never killed deer for mere sport。 With rattlesnakes； now； it was different。 There was the skin of one hanging upon a tree by the route we would take in the morning； a buster； he skinned him yesterday。 There was an entire absence； of braggadocio in Big Tom's talk； but somehow； as he went on； his backwoods figure loomed larger and larger in our imagination； and he seemed strangely familiar。 At length it came over us where we had met him before。 It was in Cooper's novels。 He was the Leather…Stocking exactly。 And yet he was an original； for he assured us that he had never read the Leather…Stocking Tales。 What a figure； I was thinking； he must have made in the late war！ Such a shot； such a splendid physique； such iron endurance！ I almost dreaded to hear his tales of the havoc he had wrought on the Union army。 Yes； he was in the war； he was sixteen months in the Confederate army； this Homeric man。 In what rank？〃 Oh； I was a fifer！〃
But hunting and war did not by any means occupy the