American Big-Game Hunting 
me in a few more jumps; and though another 
shot would have been given, I think, unless 
it had been a paralyzing shot in the brain or 
spinal column, he could have so torn and la- 
cerated me as to make death preferable. 
I have been in half a dozen scrapes of 
more or less danger with these bears, but 
have never lost my presence of mind until 
they were dead, and the danger passed 
through realized. I have always determined 
never to run, but to face them and fire away, 
believing that the least sign of fear gives 
any animal additional courage. 
I had an adventure similar to this with 
a she-bear that had been approached within 
fifty-seven yards. It was a bright moonlight 
night, and her cub was squalling in a beaver- 
trap by her side. A good shot was delivered 
over the heart. Three shots were discharged 
as she rushed forward, first by myself, then 
one from Le Corey, who was backing me, 
and then another by myself; and when the 
“racket” was over, the bear was lying dead 
twelve yards from us. All these shots were 
bull’s-eyes and deadly. In this case I could 
not have run had the spirit moved me, as 
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