THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 111 
the welcome sound, “bayed,” and I knew the dogs had done their duty. 
Pressing forward as rapidly as conditions would permit, I soon got a 
glimpse of the big black monster and, standing there as he was, on a 
large log with the dogs occupying most of his attention, I felt well 
repaid to know in a short time I would be the proud possessor of the 
beauty’s hide. 
I was handicapped by a heavy undergrowth of brush, so could not 
get a clear view, and as I broke a twig in order to get a good shot he 
leaped off the log. A shot from my 30-30 missed completely, but the 
dogs kept on crowding and soon had him on the defense directly above 
me. A good clear shot in the side failed to make any impression and 
two more in rapid succession seemed only to make him more angry 
and vicious. With a loud and angry bawl he reared on his hind legs, 
fell off the rocks on which he was standing and came rolling down 
the hill directly toward me. Imagine my surprise when he finally 
gathered himself together and started off to another canyon, leaving 
a trail of blood that was easily followed and which showed he had been 
severely wounded. 
I soon came upon him securely hidden in a hole by an uprooted 
tree and it was difficult for the dogs to get him out. At last, after 
much effort on the part of the dogs, he came charging out and before 
I could hardly realize what had happened had stuck his brownish nose 
up over the huge log behind which I was standing. Knowing full well 
that I was in close quarters and that he was not to be fooled with, I 
pressed my gun close to his brisket and fired, but he was mad enough 
to eat bullets and the only consolation I got was an angry growl and 
vicious lunge toward me, When for some reason a shell from my 
gun failed to explode I turned to make a hasty retreat and in doing 
so stumbled over a log and my gun went flying from my hands. With- 
‘out any means of defense I lost little time in getting to a spot more 
comfortable and safe. However, the dogs soon came to the rescue 
and with them claiming his attention I was able to get my gun. As he 
was crossing a log I let him have another shot, which I knew took 
effect, but the only reward was to have him make for the other 
canyon beyond. Owing to the heavy undergrowth I was unable to 
see him for some time. 
At last the dogs brought him to a stand and when I was within 
100 yards was able to get a clear view and in position to get an excel- 
lent shot. Taking careful aim, so I would surely get him this time, 
you can imagine my surprise and chagrin when: “Crack,” and before 
I had time to press the trigger the big black beauty went tumbling 
off the rocks, a bullet through his heart. With a shout of delight 
Hutzen, gun still smoking, came running from the bushes to my right 
-and, after eight unsuccessful shots, I was cheated out of what I 
surely thought would be mine. 
. After skinning the animal we started on our tiresome tramp 
back to camp, and I had little to say. The other members of our 
party had given up the chase long before and were in camp on our 
return. 
While we were successful in getting a number of deer before 
‘we broke camp, yet the memories of that chase will ever ring in my 
ears, and the thought of being cheated out of all honors at the last 
moment has kept.me from hunting ever since. 
