A Bear Hunt in the Adirondacks. 235 



his throat, opened and shut with a sound like a steel trap. 

 Bowie knife and revolver were in my belt, but I had no 

 ambition to try those romantic weapons. I jerked my 

 snow-shoe from his claws and scrambled up, back ; un- 

 strapped the shoes, pulled forward for dernier resort the 

 knife and pistol in my belt, then, slipping another car- 

 tridge from the magazine into the rifle, stepped down to 

 him again and held the muzzle near his breast. 



He was now quiet, save his watchful, restless, glaring 

 yellow eye, heaving sides and the deep grumbling rattle in 

 his throat at every breath ; for he was choked with blood 

 and, besides the thick clots around his mouth, each second 

 a great, red bubble rose from his nostrils and burst. I 

 watched him, — with the rifle at his breast, — ■ so full of life 

 I thought he might be shamming; but he was dying. 



I now shouted for my companion, and at length received 

 an answering cry from far down the mountain. It may 

 not have been many minutes, but it seemed to me half an 

 hour ere he came within speaking distance. I called to 

 him that I had killed the bear; breathlessly he climbed, 

 pulling himself up by the saplings and trees ; he was wild 

 with excitement. Breathlessly he leaned against a tree, 

 and surveyed the prize — then shouted : " You have killed 

 the biggest bear in Hamilton County!" breathed hard a 

 moment and continued, "many New Yorkers, whom 

 I have guided, would have given a thousand dollars to 

 have killed that bear!" and was beside himself. 



Soon the hound came limping in, his feet cut by 

 the crust and bleeding. Like a staunch dog, as he was, 

 he had held to the track, and came in slowly now, wag- 

 ging his tail, he knew it was all over, and his poor skinned 

 feet did ache so on the cold snow. I led him to the bear 

 and, lifting him, laid him on the warm furred body. He 

 took it kindly and fell to licking his feet, so sore and 

 bleeding. 



