IN THE BIG HORN MOUNTAINS. *7l 



house when we get back to the post, and don't you forget 

 it," said Jack. 



After dinner we started out in different directions to look 

 for game. I went up* the river about a mile, and then turned 

 into the thickets. Bear signs were plentiful at every turn, 

 and many of them fresh. I felt sure I should find old big 

 Moccasin Joe, as they call him out here, before night. I 

 hunted along down the river till just at sunset, when I saw a 

 large cinnamon-bear on the side of a steep bluff upon the 

 opposite side of the river, turning over rocks and rustling for 

 his chuck. He was about two hundred and fifty yards away, 

 and there was a large swamp between us, so that I could get 

 no closer without going a long way around the swamp. I 

 was afraid to undertake that for I should have to lose sight of 

 him awhile, and fearing he might stray off during that time, 

 I decided to shoot from where I was. I elevated to what I 

 judged the distance to be, knelt down and fired. I didn't 

 see the first ball strike, and so concluded it must have passed 

 over him and gone into some brush beyond. He paid no 

 attention to it. I held a little lower and fired again. This 

 time I saw the ball strike just under him and explode. I 

 think a piece of the bullet must have struck him, or else the 

 explosion knocked a small stone against him, for he jumped 

 and disappeared in the brush close by. I supposed, of 

 course, he was gone, and took out my field-cleaner to wipe 

 my rifle, but before I got through with it he returned to the 

 same place, and went to work again. I now had my ele- 

 vation exactly, and I knew that I could hit him this time, so 

 I took a careful aim, just behind the shoulder (he stood 

 broadside to me), held about eight inches higher on him 

 than at the last shot, and when old pill-driver spoke to him 

 this time he reared up, turned half around, plunged forward, 

 then fell backward, and rolled with a crashing, thrashing 



