OH, SHOOT! 



mate with a pair of grizzlies before, and since 

 that moment I have frequently wondered 

 how they happened to impress me so strongly 

 with the idea of a crowd. The woods seemed 

 suddenly filled with bears, and involuntarily I 

 swept the glades below to see if this were a 

 procession, or a bear carnival of some sort. 

 That instant's weakness cost me the finest 

 pelt I ever saw, for at my movement bear 

 number one leaped, and as I swung back to 

 cover him I saw only a brown flank disap- 

 pearing behind a barrier of projecting logs. 

 At that distance I dared not take a chance on 

 other than a head shot, so I jumped back, 

 peering through the brush at our level, hoping 

 to see him as he emerged. 



Joe rushed forward to the edge of the hill, 

 as if about to assault the cinnamon with his 

 camera, and stepped directly between me and 

 where I expected bear number one to show. 



"Shoot! Shoot! Give it to him before he 

 gets up here," he yelled, hoarsely. 



"Get out of the way!" I shouted, with 

 my eyes glued upon the vegetation at his 

 back. 



He was still screaming: "Shoot! Shoot!" 

 when his voice rose to a squeak, for up through 



54 



