46 The Black Bear 



who refused to see things from my point of view. There 

 was a man in Missoula at that time, Urlin by name, 

 who was, or thought he was, the whole show. He was a 

 sort of incipient *^boss"; was at the head of the city 

 council, and took it upon himself to see that things in 

 general were run according to his ideas. He had two 

 red-headed sons who aspired to occupy a similar posi- 

 tion among the boys, and these had been the ringleaders 

 of the mob that had attacked Ben, and were among 

 the few who either could not or would not abandon the 

 tactics of teasing and persecution. So, as there was 

 no lock on Ben's shed, but only a wooden button, and 

 as it was already late in the fall, I nailed this fast and 

 left the bear in his bed of shavings. That same after- 

 noon, happening to look out of the window of the shop 

 in which I was working, I saw people hurrying down 

 the street and went to the door to find out what the 

 excitement was about. Two blocks away, in front of 

 my house, a mob was gathering, and I hurried home 

 to find most of the women of the neighborhood wring- 

 ing their hands and calling down all kinds of curses on 

 my head. 



At first I could make neither head nor tail of the 

 clamor, but finally gathered that that bloodthirsty, 

 savage, and unspeakable bear of mine had killed a boy; 

 and upon asking to see the victim was told that the re- 

 mains had been taken to a neighbor's house and a 

 doctor summoned. This was scarcely pleasant news 



