Memories of a Bear Hunter 



shot a miss, and he soon disappeared in the dark- 

 ness. These shots were fired about half past nine 

 o'clock. Before their reverberations had ceased 

 they were answered by the yells and whoops of a 

 party of United States surveyors, encamped, as I 

 learned later, across the Grey Bull River, just 

 above the mouth of the creek. 



On examining the carcass, I found that the bullet 

 had penetrated the skull near the eye, passing 

 through the brain, and hence the sudden and 

 motionless death. As the fore-sight was a wad of 

 white tissue paper bound on the end of the barrel, 

 this proved a good shot at thirty-seven and one- 

 half yards, as measured from the carcass the next 

 day, to the point at which the three empty shells 

 were found. 



I should have secured the other bear, but in 

 inserting the cartridge in the Sharps rifle it was 

 not pushed in far enough, there was a hitch in clos- 

 ing the breech-action, and precious time was lost. 



No further attention was paid to the humble 

 coyote. By his strategy he had earned his good 

 luck, as for that night at least, he had undisputed 

 sway over the pile of beef. 



After hastily dressing this bear, Kate was hunted 

 up, mounted, and by midnight I was abed, well 

 satisfied with the evening's work. 



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