A COLORADO BEAR-HUNT 



being in the saddle since dawn, we sat down to a delicious meal 

 prepared by the wife of the owner of the house. 



During the time we hunted this country we made our head- 

 quarters in an unoccupied but comfortable two-room log-cabin 

 situa.ted on the bank of Crystal Creek, about a half-mile distant 

 from the ranch-house. Here we had a shed for the hounds, a 

 corral for the horses, and a warm cabin plentifully stocked with 

 the best of provisions for ourselves. The day after our arrival 

 in this valley Fuguet and I w^ere too lame from our long ride 

 to wish to repeat the performance, but two of the Carpenters 

 had sufficiently recovered by noon to make an unsuccessful 

 scout through the country to the west in search of bear sign. 



Spring happened to be very late this year, and it transpired 

 that the only bears which had so far come out of their dens 

 were those that had felt its effects in the bottoms of deep 

 canons. In such a country it was almost impossible for the pack 

 to bring them to bay or tree them. Nevertheless, next morning, 

 shortly after daylight, the five of us rode out through the sage- 

 brush toward the Gunnison, followed by the hounds. About 

 noon we were slowly picking our way along the rim of the 

 rugged side-cafion of a swift stream which joined the Gunni- 

 son a number of miles above Crystal Creek. Suddenly the man 

 ahead motioned to hold back the coupled dogs, and shouted 

 to us that he had discovered the freshly made tracks of a female 

 and two yearlings, leading down into the depths of the canon. 

 Immediately we dismounted, and commenced to uncouple the 

 now eager and excited hounds. As fast as they were unloosed 

 they struck the scent and disappeared over the edge of the 

 canon to join in the general canine chorus. 



It happened that Biggs, who was coupled to a large foxhound, 

 was among the last to be freed, and not being able to" stand the 

 strain any longer, buried his teeth in the throat of his companion 

 in the grim, determined grip 6f his kind. A blow on the head 

 with a stout stick stretched the bulldog senseless, and the 



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