Hunting at High Altitudes 



savagely toward where I had been the night be- 

 fore, he gave his mane and ears a savage flap. It 

 could have been heard a hundred and fifty yards 

 off, the sound being like, but much louder than, 

 the sound made by an old bear when he shakes his 

 head after being worried by dogs. The bear did 

 not appear to think of looking anywhere except 

 where he had seen me before. 



In the meantime I was cautiously getting ready 

 for a shot. The distance was too great for me to 

 risk a shot at the brain. Watching my chance, as 

 he turned his head slightly to the left, I fired at a 

 point between the shoulder blade and the neck, 

 hoping possibly to smash the neckbone. If I did 

 not do that, I hoped that the splash of the frag- 

 ments of the express ball would cut the main 

 artery in the neck. At the crack of the rifle he 

 rolled over as a bear usually does on being hit, but 

 without giving the peculiar bawl so* often heard, 

 and which I think indicates that he is whipped. 

 The bear was on his feet at once and moved back 

 on the trail as rapidly as he could. I descended 

 from my perch and followed him into the timber, 

 believing from his clumsy movements as he 

 scrambled off and the sign of blood left in his 

 tracks, that I should soon find him in the last 

 agonies. In the pine thicket it was quite dusk, and 



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