A GOOD SHOT. 175 



There, at the bottom, ran a swift moun- 

 tain stream, over which the men of Lachamul 

 had built a rough log bridge, and across this, 

 with all the air of peaceable pedestrians by the 

 king's highway, an old she- bear, grim and 

 gaunt, was leisurely walking, accompanied by 

 two strapping sons very nearly as big as her- 

 self, and dressed in the deep brown fur of a 

 yearling's coat. I envied those cubs their 

 jackets and meant to have them, but my first 

 business was with the old lady now leading 

 back her sons from the pillage of some 

 wretched S van's maize field to fancied security 

 in the rocks. 



It was a long shot, quite the full range of 

 my ' Express ' I fancy, as the old bear climbed 

 slowly up the face of the opposite rock, but 

 the bullet told hard on her, and I was foolish 

 to waste a second shot on her ; but then 

 I could not see, as my men did, that I 

 had caught her clean behind the shoulder. 



