THE LAST POT-SHOT. 45 



that they would soon get a bear that they contented 

 themselves with bacon rather than risk scaring away 

 the big game by a shot at a grouse or deer. Every 

 night the burros were brought into camp and tied 

 for fear they would fall a prey to bruin. In a few 

 days the novelty of the situation wore off and Dyche 

 killed a deer, not caring whether the shot scared a 

 bear or not. He went out on the side of the moun- 

 tain to look for meat, carrying his big Sharp and a 

 number 10 Colt shot-gun so that he would be ready 

 for anything. Hearing a noise in a clump of wil- 

 lows his blood almost boiled with excitement, for 

 from the noise he was sure that a bear was coming. 

 Suddenly the bushes parted and a big mule deer buck 

 trotted out into the opening with head up and ready 

 to jump at the slightest sound. He was on the steep 

 hillside fifty yards above Dyche, who sent a load of 

 buckshot into him and the animal rolled down to 

 within thirty feet of his slayer. 



Bear-trails were followed day after day without 

 ever seeing or hearing anything of the animals. An 

 ambush was laid for a deer which came to the little 

 lake every evening for water. While lying in wait 

 a band of the animals came down to the water's edge 

 to drink. When they were well bunched and not 

 over seventy-five yards away, Dyche discharged " Old 

 Reliable," and as the frightened deer ran he fired 

 three more shots after them. When the smoke 

 cleared away he found that he had done that which 

 no true hunter feels proud of. He had allowed his 

 excitement to get the better of his judgment, and 

 there, as the result of his four shots, lay six fine deer. 



