ROCKY MOUNTAINS IN SEPTEMBER 277 



shoot ! ' says Bob, ' if that little popgun's any good for 

 b'ar ' (for he'd use to laugh at my little Winchester, and 

 had one of them big old buffalo-guns hisself). I don't 

 know how it was, unless I were riled and Bob were 

 laughin*^. But sure enough I missed that there b'ar — 

 though I didn't think I had, for he went away bleeding, 

 and I foUered him for a goodish bit towards the creek, 

 where George were camped. ' Never mind ! ' I says, 

 ' you are agoing where George is, and as sure as you're a 

 b'ar George'll have you ! ' And when we come back to 

 the trap, dalled if there weren't the b'ar's hind-toe in it, as 

 he had left and I thought were the shot-wound. 



" It might ha' been two days arter, when we run out 

 of sugar and a'most of coffee too. So I says, ' Bob,' says 

 I, ' I guess I'll just ride over to the head of Deep Creek 

 and see what George and his mate's got.' When I come 

 to their camp, the young fellow were just washing up his 

 dishes and smoking his pipe contented-like, while George 

 were away after the traps. ' Well,' says I, ' what luck ? 

 Has George tumbled across another b'ar lately ? ' ' Yes ! 

 Only a little 'un, though, this time ; and, what's more, 

 there ain't never a bullet mark on him, though George 

 shot him dead, and the skin hangs yonder.' ' Had he a 

 toe pinched off in a trap ?' says I. ' Looks like it,' says 

 he, ' the left foot behind.' ' No, siree ; it's the right. I'd 

 like to go you a month's good wages on it.' * How should 

 yon know ? ' says he. ' You'd a-knowed,' I says, * if you'd 

 a-tramped eight mile on the trail of it. Let's look at it ! ' 

 And, sure enough, when we laid the hide down and spread 

 it out, there was a toe of the right foot gone. But no 

 bullet-hole ; no, nor sign of a hurt anywhere ! It were 

 just as I had figured — George had run right across that 

 b'ar next morning. It took but one shot to finish him 

 and he skinned him right, away. But blame me if he 

 ever knowed where he hit him ; no more don't 1." 



To return to our own ride to camp that evening — -a 

 ride through rough forest and much fallen timber, up and 

 down precipitous hills. Often the ponies had to be led 

 while clambering where only mountain ponies could pos- 

 sibly have made their way at all. One little episode — to 



