3 oo HUNTERS OF THE GREAT NORTH 



I felt sure it was I that had brought the bear down, until 

 the Commander remarked that he also had fired at him. 

 The two guns had gone off so nearly together that neither 

 Charlie nor I knew that he had fired. 



"Now the question arose, Who killed the bear? He 

 had been hit in the forepaw and also in the shoulder. As 

 I had never shot at a bear, Charlie insisted it was my 

 bullet that had struck him in the paw. But I feel pretty 

 strongly I could not have missed that badly. The Com- 

 mander improved things a good deal by suggesting that 

 when an animal is charging and when you are low down, 

 its paws may well be in a straight line with its heart. 

 It was even possible the same bullet might have passed 

 through the paw and later lodged in the shoulder. His 

 final verdict was that for purposes of record it might as 

 well be considered my bear — he had killed enough of 

 them before. I like to feel he missed that bear, but I 

 must admit that (if so) it was the only poor shot I ever 

 knew him to make at a charging polar bear, or indeed at 

 any animal he needed to kill. I have since seen a number 

 of polar bears but none of them have seemed to me so 

 large or so ferocious as this one — none of them ever had 

 the 'wicked pig-like eyes' and 'snarling yellow-fanged 

 muzzle' of my first bear — which, when dead, presented 

 an entirely different appearance. It turned out to be a 

 rather small two-year-old. 



"Since returning to civilization I have heard some of 

 my friends who hunt in Alaska or Africa tell thrilling and 

 hair-raising stories of their adventures with grizzlies and 

 lions. I have heard them describe the lion charging with 

 wide-open mouth and terrifying roars into the very arms 

 of the cool, level-headed amateur hunters. Perhaps I 

 am giving them less credit than they deserve but I just 



