Castine was mixing some tar and oil in a pan by the fire, to apply to the still bleeding wounds of his Michael.

He had an ugly grin on his face.
He was dressed just as in the first day he appeared in the village, even to the fur cap; and presently, as he turned round, he began to sing the monotonous measure to which the bear had danced.

It had at once a soothing effect upon the beast.
After he had gone from the store-room, leaving Ferrol dead, as he thought, it was this song alone which had saved himself from peril; for the beast was wild from pain, fury and the taste of blood.

As soon as they had cleared the farmyard, he had begun this song, and the bear, cowed at first by the thrusts of its master's pike, quieted to the well-known ditty.
He approached the bear now, and, stooping, put some of the tar and oil upon its nose.

It sniffed and rubbed off the salve, but he put more on; then he rubbed it into the wound of the breast.