A CHROMATIC BEAR HUNT 



sights danced so drunkenly before my eyes 

 that it is a wonder I did not shoot myself in 

 the foot or fatally wound my guide. Then we 

 were off again across sink holes scummed 

 over with rotten ice into which we broke, up 

 heartbreaking slopes, and through drifts where 

 we wallowed halfway to our waists. In time 

 the tracks we followed were joined by others, 

 at which Joe wheezed: 



1 ' By g-gosh ! You were right ; there was 

 two! Come on!" 



But, having righted myself in his eyes, I 

 petered out completely. My legs refused to 

 propel me faster than a miserable walk, so I 

 turned the gun over to him and he floundered 

 away, while I flopped to my back in the center 

 of a wet moss patch and hoped a bear would 

 come and get me. 



Ten minutes later I heard him empty the 

 magazine, but as he reappeared I knew the 

 shots had been long ones. 



"Say! That old gray one made the brown 

 feller look like a cub," said he, and we were 

 miles away from the scene before he broke our 

 silence to remark: 



"You were wise not to shoot. If I'd 'a* 

 known that big one was so close to me I'd 'a* 



57 



