THE BLACK BEAR. 261 



wide-extended moutli, head in constant movement, now 

 turning around to snap the little terrier that is pinching its 

 hind legs, now rushing on some hapless hound that has 

 ventured too close, which it kills with a blow of its fore paw, 

 as it reaches out to draw its victim to its gnashing teeth, 

 for that bite, the coup de grace that ends its life. Conscious 

 that its victim is dead, the Bear hurls the lifeless body 

 aside, or tramples upon it in the fierce struggle, never to be 

 touched by its teeth again. Now it snarls, growling 

 louder, when it suddenly dashes on another dog. It is the 

 hunter s favorite. Perhaps he has approached just in time 

 to hear the bones cracking to giblets in the powerful jaws 

 of the monster. 



Witness the fury of the balance of the pack, which, 

 animated by the presence of their master, at his fierce 

 shout, dash upon the brute, regardless of talons and teeth, 

 tearing it down to the ground in an instant, and, before it 

 can rise, see that hunter, with rifle in left hand, his long, 

 gleaming cane-knife in right, with the spring of the Tiger, 

 bound forward and bury the knife to the hilt through the 

 heart of the Bear, and then bound back. See the great 

 beast, the moment it is struck, hurl aside the dogs as mere 

 flies, and rising with a roar, dash forward in the direction 

 whence the blow was struck, reckless of what may be in its 

 way, until it drops stone-dead. 



In all good humor, and with due regard to the tastes of 

 the still-hunter, I would ask, can there be any comparison 

 in killing a Bear in this manner with that of stalking and 

 shooting it down in cold-blood ? One might as well com- 

 pare the shooting down of an ai)proacliing enemy, by the 

 unseen skirmisher, with that of the deadly conflict in a 

 hand-to-hand charge, either with the glittering bayonet or 

 the flashing broad-sword. As to which leaves the more 

 enjoyable feelings in the human breast when the struggle 

 is over, and comrades are seated around the camp-fire, 

 there can be but one answer. 



As for myself, give me the pack of resolute dogs, baying 

 an old male of ten years, backed against a clay-root, rather 



