3 2 4 



RECREA TION. 



no considerable part of the state in 

 which the ex-surveyor general of Wy- 

 oming has not packed this old rifle and 

 his kit of surveyor's instruments, he 

 having run his first lines in the State 

 in the early 70's. 



It was a bitter cold night, and Mc- 

 Clellan, his men and the Sage Brush 

 Doctor were cultivating as close an ac- 

 quaintance as possible with the little 

 stove in the bunk house. I insisted 

 that McClellan should tell us a bear 

 story, so he got up and after cramming 

 the cherry red jaws of the little stove 

 with knurls of red cedar sat down on 

 a sack of oats with a sigh of satisfac- 

 tion. The loud crackling of the burn- 

 ing cedar was soon mingled with the 

 pleasant tones of Bear George's voice, 

 and this is what he said: 



" In the fall of 1885 my partner and 

 I were hunting in the Big Horn moun- 

 tains around the head of a small stream 

 called Otter creek. One evening about 

 4 o'clock we left camp and went down 

 to the head of a canyon on one of the 

 branches of the creek. After riding 

 around awhile I became tired of that 

 locality and suggested that we go over 

 to another- creek about 2 miles from 

 where we were, but Billy (my partner) 

 said, ' No, let's go on down until we 

 can look over into the valley.' We 

 had proceeded only a short distance 

 when we came in sight of an old silver- 

 tip and 2 cubs feeding in the head of a 

 iittle coulee. We dismounted and held 

 a hasty conference as to the best man- 

 ner of tackling our game. The bears 

 when first sighted were about 300 

 yards away, and on sizing up the situa- 

 tion we concluded to make for a ridge 

 off to our left which was distant about 

 75 yards from them. 



" Carefully crawling to the top of the 

 ridge we looked over. There stood 

 our game all unconscious of danger. 

 The old one had a mane 8 or 10 inches 

 long which gave her the appearance 

 of having a hump on her back like 

 that of a buffalo. 



" ' Shoot the old one in the head/ 

 whispered Billy. ' We are plenty close 

 enough.' So we both took deliberate 



aim, counted 3 and ' whang ' went one 

 gun. I looked and found I had no 

 cartridge in the chamber of my Win- 

 chester, but when that old bear began 

 to roar it didn't take me long to put 

 one there. Billy had held too low, the 

 bullet struck her in the jaw and how 

 she was bellowing! 



' Taking rapid aim I fired and down 

 she went. Then we went to shooting 

 at the cubs. One of them was getting 

 close to the canyon, and while I was 

 working the lever of my rifle I turned 

 to look at the old one. There she was 

 sitting up on her haunches like a dog; 

 her head was turned sidewise and rest- 

 ed in her left paw; her right paw was 

 raised above her head and she was ut- 

 tering the most frightful roars that ever 

 greeted my ears. 



" I turned, drew a fine bead on her 

 shoulder and let her have it. She went 

 down all in a heap and I thought she 

 would never move again, but she did 

 just the same. She straightened out 

 and then seemed to wake up, pulled 

 herself together and was into the quak- 

 ing asps before I could get another 

 shot. 



"The bears were now all out of sight. 

 I asked Billy if he got the cub that was 

 close to the canyon. ' No,' said Billy, 

 ' he was hit but he got over the edge 

 of the canyon.' Then a sudden cool- 

 ness arose between us. Billy was in- 

 clined to blame me for not killing the 

 old one the first shot. He said if I had 

 shot, the chances were that both of us 

 could hardly have missed killing her 

 outright. I thought he ought to have 

 killed her himself when he had so good 

 a chance, and said so. Bears are not 

 killed by argument, so I hurried back 

 to get my horse and went to where we 

 had last seen the cub. 



" When I got about half way down 

 the hill into the canyon the little fellow 

 heard me and started out above me in 

 the canyon. Up the opposite hill he 

 dashed with me after him full tilt, but 

 the ground was too rough for my 

 horse and the cub safely reached a 

 quaking asp patch on the top of the 

 hill. 



