68 The Grizzly Bear 



the top of the divide as fast as they could go. I dropped 

 back to my sitting position, with my elbows on my knees, 

 and took a flying shot at the old bear. She was not over 

 seventy-five yards away and must have been quite near 

 me, in the next ravine, when the firing began. My bullet 

 caught her with a quartering rake forward, and rolled her 

 back into the gully, and as this, of course, stopped the 

 cubs, they fell to the next two shots. 



I was soaked to the skin from the wet brush, and plas- 

 tered from head to foot with mud and dirt. But that, and 

 the endless waiting and watching by the clump of firs, yes, 

 and all the disappointments that had gone before, were 

 paid for now. Five grizzlies down to as many shots, in as 

 many minutes, cancels many debts. This was the great- 

 est bag of grizzlies that I ever made single-handed. 



