364 RECREATION. 
Before the bear could make another spring 
I planted a ball in the middle of his neck, 
knocking him flat to the ground. He in- 
stantly raised on his front legs, his hind 
legs not appearing able to hold up his 
body. His head was much nearer the 
ground than before. He made another 
Tunge directly toward me, covering about 
his length. All the work of lifting his body 
and carrying it forward seemed done by 
his front legs alone. He landed the second 
time in a sitting position. That instant he 
received another ball about an inch back of 
the first, which flattened him out, but he as 
quickly regained his front feet and dupli- 
cated the last jump, only to receive a third 
ball within an inch of the second, with 
a result of again bringing him to the 
ground. Again he quickly gathered him- 
self, using his fore legs only, as before, and 
made a final short lunge. At the same time 
he received a fourth bullet in his neck. 
His last charge brought him up against a 
scrub pine 3 I-2 inches in diameter, which 
he seized near the ground and tore up by 
the roots. He tore up other small shrubs, 
then gradually crawled to the left about 
his length and up an embankment some 4 
feet high, where he died. 
After skinning the beast with hatchet and 
knife, I carefully examined the wounds and 
found that the 4 bullets had entered his 
neck about 8 inches back of his ears and 
directly in line with the center of his spi- 
ne; had torn through it and entered his 
lungs, tearing them into small fragments. 
His heart and liver were not injured. About 
5 inches of his neck bone was broken into 
fragments. The marrow and spinal cord 
were undoubtedly severed by the first bullet. 
All the blood in his body seemed to have 
gathered in his lungs. None of these bullets 
could have missed the spine, and I am posi- 
tive the second bullet was the one that did 
the greatest damage to his spine. The first 
shot, which merely crippled him, struck him 
through the fleshy part of a hind leg, and 
did no injury. At each shot the animal gave 
an ugly roar. I used smokeless powder, 30- 
40 soft-nosed bullets. None of these bullets 
went farther than the lungs, and they 
seemed to convert the tissue into a projec- 
tile, for tissue, cords, nerves and all had 
taken a rotary motion. The wound in the 
animal’s neck was so large I had no trouble 
in thrusting my arm through it into his 
lungs before using the hatchet or knife. 
My hunting partner on that trip was C. 
F. Loudon, of Cincinnati. Our guides 
pronounce the beast the finest specimen of 
grizzly bear he has seen in his 34 years in 
the mountains. The taxidermist who 
mounted the skin for a rug, says it is the 
finest specimen he has ever seen and that 
I will never get another like it. 
1. am often asked why I did not run or 
climb a tree when this bear charged me. 
I can only say there were no trees near and 
time was too limited for thought. 
Geo. A. West, Helena, Mont. 
HOW WE GOT HIM. 
Early in October, a jolly crowd rolled out 
of the village of Drain, Douglas county, 
Oregon, for a trip to Bradd’s creek and a 
go at the deer. The canyons and ridges 
around Bradd’s creek are famous hunting 
grounds. Our party was under the direc- 
tion of Capt. John Woods, a veteran hunter 
from old Virginia and his right bower, 
Joe Lyons. Pete Mattoon was our driver 
and a better one never pulled a line. We 
were joined at Elkton by Pat Beckley, as 
rollicking a lad as ever lived. When he 
and Pete started down the line there was 
all kinds of fun going. 
One bright, warm afternoon Pete took 
the hounds, old Pedro and Jack, up on the 
burn above camp to see, as he expressed it, 
if he could “raise suthin,” while Joe, Pat 
and I went down on the river to await 
events. My position was under a clump of 
willows about.200 yards below the mouth 
of the creek, Pat hid under a bunch of 
river maples 300 yards above me, and Joe, 
still higher, was on a point of rock near 
the lower end of the big slide. We had 
watched and waited nearly an _ hour 
when I fell into a doze. How long I en- 
joyed the nap I cannot say, but my slumber 
was suddenly broken by the rush of a bounc- 
ing old buck. He came smashing through 
the brush directly above me. I sprang to 
my feet and threw my 30-30 to my face just 
in time to see the sunlight glimmer on his 
white flag as he disappeared in the thimble- 
berry bushes which skirted the bank. 
Ringing down the ridge and echoing 
through the canyons came the cries of old 
Pedro and Jack. They came down the trail 
to where the deer turned, and were soon hot 
after him again. They took him up the 
ridge above camp, crossed the canyon, up 
on the divide and down the long ridge 
straight for the slide. Joe evidently heard 
them coming, for we could see him shifting 

. his position and getting ready for business. 
Soon the buck burst from cover and came 
tearing down the slide with Jack not 50 
feet behind him. Pedro, game to the last, 
was making music some 500 yards behind 
them, up on the ridge. With a mighty 
bound the old forked horn jumped into the 
water with Jack a close second, and then 
began the prettiest race. I ever saw. The’ 
buck was the fastest, however, and was 
soon wading out on the bar across the river. 
As I was thinking we should lose him 
after all, Joe cut loose with his 40-82. 
His first shot hit the bank above the deer 
and started him down the bar. The old 
rifle barked again and the buck went on his 
