BEAR STORIES 105 



too slanting, so I decided to try a shot for the 

 backbone, which I knew would cripple him if hit 

 fair, and then I could finish him with a second 

 shot. Taking a careful aim I fired. With a 

 squeal as if a dozen pigs were butchered, he 

 dropped in his tracks, and was up almost as quick- 

 ly, turning towards me. As he turned I took a 

 second aim for the shoulder, and the next instant 

 there was a mass of hair and flying branches 

 coming down on me. I had a third cartridge in, 

 all ready, but it was impossible to take a sure 

 shot owing to the manner in which he was coming 

 down. I therefore waited till he reached the bot- 

 tom of the brook, which was about ten feet across. 

 Right near the foot and partly across the brook 

 there was a fallen dry spruce tree; it was too low 

 for him to go under, so I knew he would have to 

 rear up when he got there and that is what I 

 waited for. As he rose over it I gave him the 

 third shot right in the middle of the chest. He 

 came down in a heap, the blood spurting from the 

 last bullet hole. When we cut him up afterwards 

 we found that this last shot had cut off the entire 

 top of his heart and penetrating to the backbone 

 had broken it, killing him instantly. On the North 

 Shore I had grown to rather look down upon the 

 black bear, but as I gazed on that mass of flesh 

 and the powerful limbs, I realized that the grizz- 

 ly was deserving of some respect. It was almost 

 impossible for me to move and skin the animal 



