A BALD-FACED GRIZZLY IN CAMP. 



"3 



blankets next attracted his attention. 

 He gave them a whirl, a bite and a 

 shake that left them a sorry spectacle 

 for a cold night. He next tore the 

 crown out of my hat. In turning 

 around he knocked down the center 

 pole of the tent, and for about two 

 seconds there was the most laughable 

 sight a man ever saw. The pegs 

 flew out at once. There was a whirl- 

 ing apparition of canvas, tinware, 

 groceries, blankets, boots and pack 

 saddles. 



When the bear emerged (if I may 

 use that word, for he seemed to 

 come through the tent in a dozen 

 places at once) he was bewildered. 

 I gave him another shot in the 

 side of his head that recalled him 

 to his work and drew his attention 

 to my retreat. He came on a run and 

 caught another bullet between his 

 shoulders. He ran around the tree 

 several times and cuffed some of the 

 lower limbs, as if they were in the fight 

 too. I fired several shots into him, 

 all without any apparent effect. At 

 last he sat down a second time, as if to 

 sum up the situation, and I tried for 

 an eye shot; but as I pressed the 

 trigger he threw up his head and got 

 it in the nose, which seemed to set 

 him crazy. He rolled over back- 

 ward, pawed it with both feet and 

 squealed. In that position he gave 

 me a good shot at his chest, and I 

 sent a little 25 in there, ranging for- 

 ward. This seemed to revive him. 

 He got up, ran a few steps, tottered 

 and fell. He was unable to rise. I 

 jolted him up with two more shots at 

 the base of his brain and he seemed 

 quiet; but it was some time before I 

 risked a return to earth. Before 

 doing so I took a shot at one of his 



paws, and got no response. After 

 throwing a few clubs at him I ven- 

 tured near and held a post-mortem 

 examination. 



I went to camp and surveyed the 

 ruins. It looked as if a Kansas cy- 

 clone had blown a slaughter-house 

 through the camp. Flour nearly all 

 gone; camp bucket down the creek; 

 tent, blankets and hat torn to rib- 

 bons. I've spent this whole day 

 sewing them together, so I could 

 live under them again. 



I found that 17 of the 18 shots 

 had landed, the one in the chest 

 having been fatal, as it ranged for- 

 ward and entirely through the heart. 

 One of the last two shots had entered 

 the brain. 



Trilby ventured back in sight this 

 morning, but thus far I have been 

 unable to coax her near camp. I had 

 $70 worth of fun and have a four 

 dollar bear hide, which is thin and 

 patchy. I know you would willingly 

 get another sack of flour to have 

 been with me. 



There is an old owl up in one ot 

 these big pines, hooting at me, but 

 it's too dark for a shot at him. There 

 are two coyotes over on the open 

 hill side, warbling their vesper songs, 

 or practicing for their Easter festival. 

 There's a low wind moaning through 

 the pines and a lone prospector with 

 a large and aching void in his camp 

 outfit which a cold and uncharitable 

 world is not likely to fill —this season. 

 But, as I remarked, I've had some 

 fun and I'm still on deck. I'd like 

 to borrow an old hat until I can get 

 to town. I'd like to send you a bear 

 ham. It's too lean for me, but editors 

 are not supposed to live on the fat 

 of the land. 



He loaded his boat with all kinds of tackle 

 And about what he'd catch he proceeded 

 to cackle. 

 The fish in the bay were not hungry that day; 

 The gnats and the flies had a feast, by the 

 way, 

 Yet of sport he constantly preached. 



H. M. Brown. 



