The Nova Scotia Black Bear 



" The old girl has put her cubs up a tree and is trying 

 to lead the dogs off," exclaimed Pat. " They'll heave 

 her to, pretty soon now." 



About three o'clock we heard the dogs barking over 

 by the mouth of the Kejimkujik River, and obeying 

 Pat's command to come on, took the trail for that point 

 at a sharp trot, guns and Kodak in hand. A quarter of 

 an hour brought us to the scene of action. The hounds 

 had treed the big ugly brute in an old oak down by the 

 river. When she saw us coming she dropped to the 

 ground, killed one of Pat's dogs with a slap of her great 

 paw, and charged. 



Two quick shots from Pat's rifle crumpled her up. 

 We had neither time to shoot nor to take pictures. 



Beating off the over-anxious hounds, Pat took com- 

 mand of the dressing and skinning operations. Loaded 

 with bear steaks, skin and nose, we trooped back to 

 camp, sweating and happy. Pat immediately left on a 

 mysterious mission, the purpose of which was only 

 divulged when he turned up in camp that night with a 

 small black hide, and, in a bag, a funny little fat, squirm- 

 ing bear cub. 



" This one took after his mammy," said Pat, indicating 

 the skin. " So I had to kill him. The other one acted 

 sort o' trustin', so I brung hum over for you to play with. 

 So long." 



And away went Pat to collect his bounty. 



45 



