Big Game Shooting 251 



hand and galloped back to camp. Meantime, the 

 bears had not stirred, although the biggest of them 

 was staring, disdainfully, straight into my eyes. I 

 was idiot enough to drop onto one knee, and to 

 fire pointblank into that grey grim face. The un- 

 earthly roar that followed shook the firmament. I 

 can swear that I was cool till I pulled the trigger, 

 but that hideous bellow, running the gamut of sound 

 between rage and surprise, and culminating in a 

 shrill scream of agony, undid me. The air seemed 

 to be full of bears. In a jiffy I was up a tree, rifle 

 in hand. It is my honest conviction that I pulled 

 myself up to the first branch with one hand : a feat 

 I have attempted many times upon a horizontal 

 bar, and never accomplished. Perched aloft, my 

 wits returned to me. I looked down, peered 

 through the leaves ; the bears had vanished in the 

 thick brush. Then I descended very cautiously, 

 feeling no hero. 



Next day, my cousin and I encountered these 

 same bears, although the biggest was not with 

 them (which proves that my aim had not been 

 amiss) ; and we cornered and killed one of them. 

 We wounded him badly, and he took refuge in a 

 small patch of brush. Outside this we waited 

 patiently, but in vain. Finally, I fired at random 

 into the middle of the patch, and then out he came, 

 determined to kill or be killed. What a fine fight 

 he fought ! I suppose we were a hundred yards or 

 more from him when he waddled, growling, from the 

 brush, and each time we hit him, he would stop 

 and roar, biting and scratching at his wound. But 

 he came steadily on, and he never stopped till my 



