THE BLACK BEAR. 251 



Washington forests generally consists of a 

 shake hut or log house, and a promise by 

 the "rancher" that he will soon clear 

 enough ground to raise something. Gener- 

 ally this vague something is a mortgage. 

 This particular rancher had a cow, and this 

 cow often strayed away into the timber and 

 had to be looked after when milking time 

 came. 



One day, in the exuberance of new 

 found health, I was taking the greatest of 

 pleasure in chasing that cow toward the 

 "shed" road to the ranch. I was feeling 

 especially good, and I was jumping over 

 fallen trees, making short cuts and throw- 

 ing broken branches and an occasional 

 stone at the old Jersey. 



Suddenly I stopped before an extra high 

 log, and gathering myself together, I 

 jumped high over it I landed upon the up- 

 turned belly of an old she bear. There was 

 a sound like the escape of gas from a rub- 

 ber bag. I passed the cow like a streak of 

 lightning. When I had run a considerable 



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