290 WILD SPORTS IN THE FAK WEST. 



sitting with his mouth -wide open, though Conwell 

 maintained that he held it open more conveniently to 

 catch the morsels I threw to him from time to time ; 

 perhaps he was right. 



After these trifles, half a turkey, and the greater 

 part of a haunch of venison had been safely disposed of 

 to the general satisfaction, we set off to look for the bear, 

 tokens of whose whereabout I had seen the day before. 

 On arriving at the place, the dogs showed signs of ex- 

 citement, and running down the steep they soon began 

 to give tongue. We followed as fast as we could, and 

 came to a large detached rock, behind which a cave 

 ran into the mountain. Several marks showed that 

 the bear was at home ; the dogs barked furiously, and 

 I laid aside my rifle and pouch, and was about to enter 

 the cave with my drawn knife, when Bruin began to 

 suspect mischief. He was right opposite the entrance, 

 but a slight bend in the cave, which was only eight 

 feet deep, prevented our seeing him. He would not 

 have cared much for the dogs, but as I approached the 

 wind was behind me ; the moment he discovered me 

 he began snorting and growling, and made a rush 

 which nearly upset me, although I sprang on one side. 

 Conwell, who had seen many such affairs, coolly stood 

 at the entrance with his rifle cocked, watching my jDro- 

 ceedings. The report of the rifle was heard before I 

 and the dogs had recovered our composure after the 

 rush ; the bear seemed to be determined that nothing- 

 should stop him, and disappeared in a gorge ; but the 

 dogs, roused by the shot were soon on his traces. The 

 old man laughed heartily as he saw me standing knife 

 in hand quite disconcerted at the mouth of the cave, 



