208 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 



trail was good and fresh, and I put the dogs right on to 

 it. Before they had gone more'n a quarter of a mile, a 

 thunderin' racket broke loose, and I was shore that they 

 had jumped the b'ar. 



" It was rollin', hilly ground, covered with cedars, 

 and the branches hung so low it made it very bad for 

 seeing any distance. I pulled my freight toward the 

 place where the row was goin' on, but had hardly got 

 fairly started when one of the dogs rushed a-past me 

 makin' for the rear, with his tail between his legs, and 

 his ears a-flappin' up and down like a pair o' bird's 

 wings. The b'ar had plumb stampeded him, and I didn't 

 see him no more until the next day. 



" I hurried on as fast as I could go, and just as I 

 reached the top of a hill that lay ahead of me, here 

 comes old Jumbo, just a-tearin' along after my Ponto 

 dog; and Ponto was hikin' along in front, barkin' at 

 every jump. That old dog shore had plenty o' sand. 

 First thing I knew, old Jumbo was right there within 

 twenty yards of me; and when he saw me, he rushed 

 straight at me. 



" I had a 45-90 Winchester, and it was all right. 

 Quick as I could, I sent in two shots, one in the centre 

 of the breast, the other in the shoulder. My Ponto dog 

 had jumped from the trail behind a cedar, and he was 

 between me and the b'ar. My first two shots dropped 

 old Jumbo, all right, but while I was throwin' in the 

 third cartridge, he jumps up and starts for me again, 

 full pelt. 



" I s'pose my dog thought the b'ar was gettin' too 



