x THE BEAR 223 



and was answered by a short growl and a momentary crash among 

 the branches. 



We ran forward with difficulty, but no bear was to be seen. 

 We searched everywhere, but in vain. I came to the conclusion 

 that the game was hardly worth the candle. 



Through several hours we worked hard, but did not find another 

 bear ; and it was past five o'clock when we arrived at our camp, 

 after a long day's work, in which we had certainly "jumped" two 

 bears, but had not succeeded in bagging one. 



Texas Bill came to hold my horse upon our arrival ; he was 

 looking rather shy, and ill-at-ease. "What's the matter, Bill? 

 anything gone wrong 1" I asked. 



" Well," he replied, " I hope you won't blame me, as I don't 

 think it right, but you know where you killed a wapiti a couple of 

 clays ago, and we found the next morning that the bears had been 

 and buried it ; and you said we'd better leave the place quiet for a 

 day, and then you'd go early in the morning, and perhaps find the 

 bears upon the spot 1 Well, after you were gone with Bob this 

 morning, Jem Bourne proposed that we should go and have a look 

 at the place, and sure enough when we got there we found a great 

 big bear fast asleep, lying on the top of the buried wapiti, and her 

 two half-grown cubs asleep with her. So Jem had ydur Martini- 

 Henry with him, and he killed the mother stone dead, through the 

 shoulder. Up gets one of the young ones, and hits his brother (or 

 sister) such a whack in the eye with his paw that it just made rne 

 laugh, and then he cuffs him again over the head, just as though it 

 was his fault that the mother was knocked over. Jem had reloaded, 

 so he put a bullet through this young fellow ; and then putting in 

 another cartridge, he floored the third, and they were all dead in 

 less than a minute. It's a fine rifle is that Martini-Henry, but I 

 think you'll be displeased, as we had no business to go nigh the 

 place ; it ain't my fault, and I wouldn't have done it myself, you 

 may be sure." 



This was a glorious triumph for the jealous Jem Bourne, who 

 was highly offended at my having adopted the advice, and sought 

 the assistance of Bob Stewart, to "jump a bear." We had returned 

 as failures, and he had killed three bears with my rifle, within my 

 sanctuary, which I had specially arranged for a visit upon the 

 following day. He declared " that nobody should stop him from 

 killing bears, as his right was just as good as mine." This poach- 

 ing upon my preserves was rather too much for my patience, 

 therefore without any discussion or angry words I gave him a note 

 to carry 42 miles' distance on the following morning, to a friend of 



