108 BEARS. 



much scarcer than I had supposed, until at last I reached the regions 

 that had been less harassed by the white man, and here they were fairly 

 plentiful. Finally I often met with them when after other game, and 

 many a Bruin owes his whole skin at the present day to my general rule 

 of only firing at the particular game I was in searcli of. I found that 

 rule conducive to much better results than that which lays down to fire 

 at everything you see. 



My first bear was a red female, and I came on her when ascending to 

 some likely markhor ground. I had been weeks marching about in rain 

 and mist, my leave being the last three months of the hot weather, with 

 literally no luck, so I made up my mind to try to bag her and hope for 

 the markhor. I was carrying the '450 single, and my man had my double 

 gun, so I remained quiet amongst some rocks, watching her rooting and 

 scratching about on a grassy patch. She was so intent on her feeding 

 that she never heeded me, and after a little time I aimed between her 

 shoulders, for I was above and in front. Just as I was about to fire, it 

 suddenly struck me it would be as well to use the double gun with ball, 

 should she charge. I laid the rifle down, at half-cock, took the gun 

 from my man, opened the breech and then gave it him back while I got 

 the cartridges out of my belt. The poor fellow was so excited that he shut 

 the gun with a bang, making enough noise to frighten a bear a quarter of 

 a mile off, let alone 50 yards ! I seized the gun from him, loaded and 

 leaned it against a rock, then snatched up the '450 and stood up for a shot. 

 The bear was alert, of course, and bolted as I rose ; I let drive, but went 

 over her head with the snap. A half -grown cub followed her from amongst 

 the rank grass, but my shot turned them, and back they came, galloping 

 past me, about 40 yards away. I snatched up my gun and snapped at 

 the cub, which was leading then, but missed, being unable to see him 

 exactly owing to the grass. The old one galloped on, and I could see 

 her all right, so had a good shot for the spot behind the shoulder, but 

 aiming well ahead. I heard the bullet hit, but on she went for about 

 20 yards, then wheeled round towards us and began making an awful 

 row. Down she tumbled suddenly, picked herself up, rose on her hind 

 legs and advanced a couple of paces towards us, then tumbled again. I 

 had reloaded and was waiting for a certain shot if she charged us ; she 

 was an awful sight, snapping her jaws and roaring, while blood and 

 foam poured from her mouth. I saw she was done for when she fell a 

 second time, so rushed to the brow to have another snap at the cub. I 

 fired twice with the rifle, as he was going at an awful pace down a most 

 precipitous hillside, but failed to hit, and afterwards was glad he had got 

 off. I never fired at a cub again. 



On returning to the old one, I found her quite dead, of good size and 

 coat, and we rolled her over to see where she was hit. In the exact spot 

 behind the shoulder there was the hole, on the other side a similar one, 

 where the bullet made its exit. I was puzzled at the way she had lived 

 and travelled after receiving such a wound in the right place, so cut her 



