With the rifle in one hand and the pail of honey in the other, carrying the flashlight in his back pocket, John went to the barn. The sheep that the bear had killed hung from a wooden peg driven into the side of a rafter. John leaned his rifle against the barn door, set the pail of honey down beside the flashlight, and went out to look around.
Evidently the sheep grazed in the clearing by day and came back to be shut in the fence by night, for beaten paths ran from the gate into the clearing. At the far end of the fence a section of rails had been broken down. John walked over.
A few long black hairs still clung to the broken rails. John knelt to study the ground, and a low whistle escaped him as he found one of the bear’s tracks. By spreading his hand, he was barely able to touch one en
