The Nova Scotia Black Bear 



little bear cubs in the road, hardly a quarter of a mile 

 from camp. We had no gun, and as one whiff of the 

 bears incited the colt into a combination fox-trot, two- 

 step, and waltz, all on his hind-legs, the erratic motions 

 of the runabout would hardly have been conducive to 

 straight shooting had we been armed. Both of the 

 black babies stood up and comically wiggled their round 

 ears at us and then scooted into the woods, while the 

 colt swerved from the road, jumped a fallen log, and 

 miraculously landed back in the road again right side up 

 and running like a fox. Fifty yards farther on, while 

 I was trying to " saw " him down, the colt left the road 

 again and apparently tried to climb a tree. I succeeded 

 in thwarting his reckless intention, and as we flashed 

 once more over down timber and rocks, I noted the 

 old she-bear squatting among some blueberry bushes 

 and grinning maliciously at our haste. Within half 

 a mile the colt responded to my insistent admonishings 

 and slowed down to a walk. 



" If you ever catch me on this road again without a 

 gun, it will be because I'm under arrest and handcuffed," 

 I sputtered to Ralph. 



" The way the colt was jumping around, I was having 

 all I could do to stay in the wagon. We couldn't have 

 used a gun if we'd had it." His attempt at molHfying 

 me gave scant comfort. 



We plotted against that bear during the entire twelve- 

 mile ride to town. 



As it was nearly dark by the time our errands were 

 finished in Caledonia, Ralph and I requisitioned a double- 

 barrelled shotgun and half a dozen shells loaded with 

 buck-shot to accompany us upon our return journey to 

 the lake. The last five miles were entirely through un- 

 inhabited bush, so the shotgun and a couple of powerful 

 flash-lights which we carried gave us a more secure 



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