72 TRUE BEAR STORIES. 



no friend to the tourist. But we were not 

 tourists. The land was and is ours. We 

 would and all could defend our own. 



The sun was going down. Glorious! The 

 shades of night were coming up out of the 

 gorges below and audaciously pursuing 

 the dying sun. Not a sound. Not a sign 

 of man or of beast. We were scattered all 

 up and down the hill. 



Crash! Something came tearing down 

 the creek through the brush ! The fat and 

 simple-hearted editor, who had been dress- 

 ing the homeopathic dose of trout, which 

 inexperience had marked as his own, 

 sprang up from the bank of the tumbling 

 little stream above us and stood at his full 

 height. His stout little knees for the first 

 time smote together. I was a good way 

 below him on the steep hillside. A brother 

 editor was slicing bacon on a piece of re- 

 versed pine bark close by 



"Fall down," I cried, "fall flat down on 

 your face." 



It was a small she bear, and she was very 



