94 DIARY OF A SPORTSMAN NATURALIST 



again the bear turned, and spotting me, uttered another 

 roar of fury, and standing erect came in my direction. I 

 had a spare rifle, a "303, and as he tried to get on the rock, 

 fired at the V-shaped mark on the chest and bruin dropped 

 in his tracks. After making certain that he was dead we all 

 got off our respective perches and gathered round the black 

 furry mass, and made an examination of the bullet holes. 

 Whilst thus engaged we became suddenly aware of curious 

 squeakings close by, and before we knew what was happen- 

 ing two black furry balls were upon us and one of the men 

 lay screaming on the ground. I shall remember that man's 

 screams and yells for many a long day. My blood ran 

 cold. " At last my turn's come," I remember thinking, 

 " and I've had a man killed out shooting." I bent over the 

 man, lifted him up, and asked him where he was wounded. 

 I could see no blood. The shikari, as is the manner of the 

 native, was far more callous. " Speak, brother, where are 

 you hurt ? Don't you hear the sahib asking you ? " The 

 screams had now become reduced to groans and whines and 

 tears. Yes, positively tears in the man's eyes and running 

 down his cheeks. And yet there was not a scratch on him ! 

 We searched him all over. It was sheer fright and funk, 

 which began I suppose when the old bear was playing 

 about after having quitted the cave. The two little furry 

 balls which had charged us were little baby-bears, who, 

 frightened at being left alone in the cave, had bolted out. 

 As luck would have it the would-be wounded man had been 

 standing directly in the path of one of them, and the latter 

 in its fright had run between his legs and bowled him over. 

 Bad as was the fright he had had, when he thought that his 

 own particular demon or devil had him by the leg at last, 

 the chaff he had to endure from his companions that night 

 must have been even worse. 



The bear we had killed was a male, but we never got 

 the mother out, if she was at home. Not that I would have 

 shot her, but I wanted to send her to join her offspring, 

 now out on the hill-side alone. Poor little beggars. The 

 men wanted to catch them, but I would not have it. I was 

 not going to have them dying by inches in their hands, 

 and I had had enough of young bears myself in my salad 

 days. In the chummery I lived in during my first year in 

 India we had a menagerie consisting of seventeen dogs — a 

 very mixed pack — two young bears, two hyenas, several 



