THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 35 



I remember of him telling me of seeing two large grizzlies in 

 mortal combat. He and his brother Aaron were camped near Hoxie 

 Prairie, now owned by William Myers of Ashland, and went out one 

 morning armed with muzzle loading rifles and upon coming out of the 

 timber to the edge of the prairie were astonished to see two large 

 grizzlies fighting savagely. It was immense to hear Fred describe the 

 fight. How they would rear upon their haunches and claw each other, 

 bite and growl and roll over and over on the ground oblivious to every- 

 thing around them. 



Fred was so absorbed in the fight that he could only stand and 

 look without a thought of danger, but finally upon looking around, he 

 discovered that he was alone, his brother Aaron having turned and ran 

 for camp as fast as he could go without even calling to Fred to come. 

 This brought him to a realization of his danger and the folly of trying 

 to kill them, and he too, turned and fled and found his brother in camp. 



* * * 



Grizzlies in those days were dangerous. As they were plentiful and 

 were not hunted much it took a man with plenty of nerve to tackle 

 one with the old muzzle loading rifles. Sometimes a man had to have 

 considerable nerve to tackle one with a Winchester after those fire- 

 arms began to come into use. I know this by experience — having met 

 one in the Siskiyou Mountains once while going around the side of a 

 hill in a fog. 



We were within forty steps of each other and he looked at me 

 and 1 at him (like Davy Crockett and the jay bird) but only for a few 

 seconds for he doubled himself up and rolling his hair the wrong way 

 commenced coming, a little sideways at first, with his head down and 

 champing his teeth. I was in open ground and realized that I had to 

 fight. I jerked the gun to my shoulder and caught a bead. The bullet 

 hit him back of the shoulder and ranged quarteringly but didn't get 

 the heart. He then threw his head around and bit at the place and I 

 sent another bullet just as he straightened around again and this time 

 caught him in the fleshy part of the neck, and then he came. Gee, but 

 he was a big one, raw boned and poor. Then the lever began to work 

 up and clown and send a stream of lead right at his breast — but he got 

 within twenty feet. 



As good luck would have it T struck him in the left shoulder which 

 caused him to fall down and as the hillside was steep, he rolled over and 

 over down through the brush. • 



1 lost no time in getting out of there without waiting to see if my 

 hat was on or not. I went back the next day and took Trailer. He 

 took the scent and followed it for about a hundred yards and found 

 him piled up against a bush, dead. I know that Trailer was disap- 

 pointed, for after smelling him over he raised his head and looked 

 around as much as to say, "What did you want me for 1 ?" I kept him 

 with me all of the time on that hunt, for to tell the truth, my nervous 



system had received a shock that it took some little time to get over. 



* * * 



T remember another story Fred used to tell about himself and John 

 Miller, the gunsmith of Jacksonville, shooting a big buck out near Hiatt 

 Prairie. The buck fell near a bluff or rim rock with thick brush all 

 along the edge. They walked to where lie lay and leaning on the muz- 

 zle of their guns stood looking down at him and Miller counted the 

 points on his horns and said to Fred, "He is a seven pointer." Just 

 then the deer began to struggle and before they had time to think was 

 over the bluff and gone, leaving two sadly disappointed men to mourn 

 his loss. They had only creased him. 



