American Big-Game Hunting 



is a moment of intense interest, for I don't 

 know where he will appear. My attention is 

 kept constantly to the rear and left rear. 

 No more noise. What has become of him ? 

 It is getting- very dark, and maybe it was 

 a mistake. Presently, there ! right on me 

 apparently, but really fifty yards to the left 

 rear, stands a black mass that must be the 

 bear. I rise cautiously to a sitting position, 

 and as he stands, looking wistfully up toward 

 the old horse, I pull away at his side. The 

 report is followed by a suppressed bawl, and 

 he rolls over. I am loaded in a moment and 

 waiting to see if he regains his feet. He 

 does not, and it is unnecessary to fire. I 

 walk up to him with finger on trigger at a 

 ready, but the death-rattle is in his throat, 

 and another shot is unnecessary. He turns 

 out to be a black bear with a very black 

 coat, and pretty well furred. He is dressed 

 as quickly as possible, for it is now dark, and 

 quite six miles to quarters, over a trailless 

 mountain. A walk of half a mile to my horse 

 Pike, and then as rapid a ride home as 

 circumstances will admit, wind up the even- 

 ing's adventures. I am well satisfied, but 

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