I never waited for to look further, but uncocked my gun and went sneaking back on my tiptoes as fast as ever I could.

Every now and then I stopped a second amongst the thick leaves and listened, but my breath come so hard I couldn't hear nothing else.

I slunk along another piece further, then listened again; and so on, and so on.

If I see a stump, I took it for a man; if I trod on a stick and broke it, it made me feel like a person had cut one of my breaths in two and I only got half, and the short half, too.
When I got to camp I warn't feeling very brash, there warn't much sand in my craw; but I says, this ain't no time to be fooling around.

So I got all my traps into my canoe again so as to have them out of sight, and I put out the fire and scattered the ashes around to look like an old last year's camp, and then clumb a tree.
I reckon I was up in the tree two hours; but I didn't see nothing, I didn't hear nothing--I only THOUGHT I heard and seen as much as a thousand things.