THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 217 
down all the time Trailer was coming. I could hear the racket and 
knew he was going down the gulch, so "IT ran down the ridge and pretty 
soon I got a little. below, and iE yelled at Trailer to go after him. 
The fight was now in dead earnest, and Trailer was making it hot 
for him, as he had one shoulder broken and Trailer could easily keep 
out of his way. He must have heard me yell, for he left the gulch and 
took up and around the hillside and came up in plain sight. "This was 
what I wanted. I caught a bead and pulled. I hit him, but he did 
not go down. Just then Trailer seized him by the ham, and as the 
bear turned to strike, he held on a little too long and he got a lick 
on him which sent him rolling down the hill. Before he could recover 
himself, the bear made a dive to grab him, but I shot again and hit 
him in the thick part of the neck, as IL discovered afterwards. He 
reared straight back and fell with all heels up, but struggled to his 
feet again. I gave him another, and before Trailer could get to him 
I gave him another, and over he went and came rolling down the hill, 
with Trailer trying to hang on. He was dead as dead could be. He 
gave Trailer a mark on his hip that he carried all his life and can 
be seen in his picture that I have here at home now. 
Well, the fight was over and the job was to get him in, which 
had to be done by skinning him and cutting him up. This spoiled the 
biggest part of the day, but we got him in just the same. 
The next bear Trailer treed was away over on the Sterling side. 
I waited that day until about 2 o’clock before I started out to hunt 
him up, and it was sundown before I got to where I could hear him 
barking, and I had to hurry to get there in time to see the sights 
before it was too dark. I made it, however, and found he was up a 
big pine and had gone high up, from some cause or other. The clogs 
were probably crowding him pretty close when he struck the tree, and 
he wanted to get as far away from them as possible. I got around 
where I could see his head and took a good rest along side of a small 
pine tree, and pulled down a fine sight, square between the eyes. At 
the crack of the gun he came rolling out, dead as a mackerel. I hur- 
ried up and dressed him and got on my horse and struck out for home, 
getting there between 10 and 11 o’clock, and it was dark as pitch, so 
it was not all plain sailing hunting bears, you see. 
The next bear Trailer caught I found him about 2 o’clock. When 
I discovered he was gone, I saddled up my horse and struck out the 
first thing in the morning, and it was well I did, for I rode until 2 
o’elock before I got to where I heard him. This time I found him 
away up near the head of Griffin Creek, several miles from home. 
When I got to the tree, sure enough, it was a bear. Well, it was 
only a short job to put him out of business, as he was only up a short 
distance and not a very large tree at that. I shot him in the head 
and killed him the first shot, and he came rolling out. When I came 
to examine him, I found it was one of the oldest bears I had ever 
killed. Its nose and head had turned perfectly gray, and its teeth 
were all broken off, and besides that it was poor, at a time of year 
when it should have been fat. I let it stay right there. 
One night I woke up about 2 o’clock and I heard the dogs. They 
were barking furiously, I can tell you. From the sound I could tell 
they were west of the house and across the field, which was about 
three-quarters of a mile wide. I knew from the way they barked that 
it was big game, and I could hardly wait until daylight came; in fact, 
before it was light I was up and off. I had fifteen shelis in the 
gun, and as I started off I called to my sister and said, more for 
a joke than anything else, ‘‘if you hear me shoot fifteen times, bring 
me some more cartridges.’’ I had no more idea of shooting fifteen 
