Memories of a Bear Hunter 



right side exposed, and the shot was aimed care- 

 fully. 



"Here she comes," hoarsely whispered Corey. 

 I fired a second shot, and still she rushed on. Then 

 Corey fired, giving her a desperate wound. Still 

 she rushed onward, and when within a few jumps I 

 fired a final shot. It did not stop her, but she 

 turned to the left, down hill, stumbled along for a 

 little way, fell and soon was still. She was twelve 

 steps from us as she lay. 



Next morning, measuring the ground from the 

 elk carcass to the pile of shells, the distance proved 

 to be forty-seven yards. Examination of the bear 

 showed that every shot hit about the center of the 

 mass as the animal approached. Corey's shot, with 

 a light bullet, was an excellent one, and penetrated 

 deeply. After a little time the first shot would 

 have killed. Considering the moonlight and the 

 somewhat exciting surroundings, it was first-class 

 practice. 



After dressing the bear, we were puzzled to 

 know what to do with the cub. Corey, who was 

 wearing his leather shaps, and so did not fear 

 teeth or claws, walked up to the little animal, 

 which, as soon as he was within reach, rushed 

 savagely at him, seized him by the legs and clawed 

 most energetically, but the leather was too thick. 



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