THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 221 
the log and braced himself back. This was all done quicker than it 
takes to tell it. I was within five feet of him and I jerked up and 
shot, hitting him at the butt of the ear. This finished him. He was 
a black bear, about three years old and very fat. We came back 
next day and packed him in, without having to skin him and cut 
him up. 
Now, I hope the readers will enjoy this story as much as I enjoyei 
the bear meat. 
MY DOG 
JOHN BERNARD O’SULLIVAN 
I’ve got as many friends, I guess, 
As any other chap; 
My wife is just as beautiful 
As ever set a cap; 
My crop is lookin’ kinda good, 
My cheeks are red as wine, 
But something’s sure the matter with 
That hunting dog 0’ mine, 
He’s a little bit 0’ pointer, 
With a strain ’r so 0’ spitz, 
And a third or less of wolfhound, 
But now he’s full of fits. 
He is looking like a goner, 
And he ean barely whine, 
Which makes my heart go jumping for 
That hunting dog o’ mine, 
The feilow who I got him from 
Has often told me how 
The father of my .dog brought home 
A neighbor’s butchered cow; 
And also how his mother took 
A prize for looking fine; 
I wish you knew how well I like mi! 
That hunting dog o’ mine, 
I wonder what it is that makes 
A man and dog so thick, 
And keeps a fellow worrying 
When one of them gets sick. 
"Tis strange, indeed, for dogs can’t talk, 
Tho’ this old one of mine 
Has lately kept me listening, yes, 
That hunting dog o’ mine, 
