172 CRUISINGS IN THE CASCADES 



continuing to maul the bear over the head with the 

 camp kettle for several minutes after she was dead. 



Some years ago I went into the mountains with a 

 party of friends to hunt elk. Our guide told us we 

 should find plenty of grouse along the trail, from 

 the day we left the settlements; that on the third 

 day out we should find elk, and that it would there- 

 fore be useless to burden our pack-horses with meat. 

 We accordingly took none save a small piece of 

 bacon. 



Contrary to his predictions, however, we found no 

 grouse or other small game en route, and soon ate up 

 our bacon. Furthermore, we were five days in 

 reaching the elk country, instead of three as he said. 

 All this time we were climbing mountains and had 

 appetites that are known only to mountain climbers. 

 We had plenty of bread and potatoes, but these 

 were not sufficient. We hankered for flesh, and 

 though we filled ourselves with vegetable food, yet 

 were we hungry. 



Finally we reached our destination at midday. 

 While we were unloading the horses, a "fool hen" 

 came and lit in a tree near us. A rifle ball beheaded 

 her, and almost before she was done kicking she 

 was in the frying pan. 



A negro once had a bottle of whisky, and was 

 making vigorous eiforts to get outside of it, when a 

 chum came up and asked for a pull at it. u O, g' long, 

 nigger," said the happy owner of the corn juice. 

 "What's one bottle of whisky 'mong one man?" 

 And what was one little grouse among five half- 

 starved men? The smell and taste only made us 

 long for more. 



