96 BEAR STORIES 



grasped the forepaw the bear raised himself, and 

 then followed a terrible fight for life on the part 

 of Bellefleur. He called out to his son to shoot, 

 but the poor boy was afraid to hit his father as 

 the man and beast twisted around. The old hun- 

 ter all this time was stabbing at the bear when 

 ever he could get a chance. Finally Bellefleur was 

 crushed and held down by the weight of the brute 

 and a bite near the eye and the temple pierced his 

 skull. About this time the boy fired his shot at 

 the head of the bear and ran away to the post for 

 help. When the other Indians arrived on the 

 spot, they found them both hunter and bear 

 dead, the latter lying over the half-breed's body. 

 According to the statement of the Indians that 

 skinned the animal, there was only one bullet in 

 it, and that was in the head, which the boy claim- 

 ed was from his shot. 



While I was living at Trinity Bay we used to 

 set dead falls for bears in a large tract of burnt 

 over country, where the blueberries grew about 

 as thick as the black flies, and that's not saying a 

 little. One day I happened to be busy at some 

 more pressing work, so I sent my brother Firmin 

 to visit the traps, cautioning him not to go near 

 them if there was a bear in any of them, but to 

 come right back for me. He was then a lad of 

 about twelve and a pretty fair shot, but had 

 never fired at any bigger game than rabbits in the 

 mammal line. He had frequently gone alone, 



