A CHROMATIC BEAR HUNT 



through which the stream meandered. It was 

 the first time since landing in Alaska that I 

 had been without my gun, and within three 

 hundred yards from the shore I encountered 

 fresh bear tracks. As I regarded them, a 

 movement at my back caused me to whirl, 

 and there, where I could have hit him with a 

 stone, was my bear observing me curiously. 



We looked each other over for several mo- 

 ments. We were both blonds, although his fur 

 was a bit lighter than mine. When I moved, 

 his hair rose ; when he moved, my hair did the 

 same. He was much the larger of the two. 

 I matched him up with my dining-room rug, 

 and he went all right. I must likewise have 

 harmonized with some color scheme of his, for 

 he took a step towards me. 



Remembering that my hunting knife was in 

 the gunwale of the skiff and my rifle halfway 

 across the bay, I closed the interview and 

 went after them. It was a nice cool day and 

 I hurried a bit. I felt light in the body and 

 strong in the legs, which provoked in me a 

 sudden disposition to disprove my previous 

 theory that a two-hundred-pound man out of 

 condition cannot outrun a bear. You see, 

 this was the first bear I had encountered 



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