104 



RECREATION. 



r.ope fastenings of my blankets. I flopped 

 and rolled with all the energy of deadly 

 fright toward the side of the tent where 

 Tom was. He had got a hand free and 

 was tugging at the canvas. There was an 

 angry growl, and the bear came tearing in 

 just as we rolled out, almost together. 

 Tom was ahead and kept rolling, while I 

 made as good a second as possible. It 

 was all over in a moment. Tom suddenly 

 shot out of my range of vision. He had 

 dropped somewhere. The next instant 

 there was a splash 15 feet below, which 

 sounded as if a whale had broached. I 

 tried, hurriedly and bunglmgly, to release 

 myself from my blankets, when — 



"Woof!" 



The bear was ripping away at the tent 

 cloth. I didn't hesitate any longer. I 

 thought of home and of the friends of my 

 childhood and rolled over after Tom. I 

 missed him by about 3 feet. When about 

 half drowned, and after I had caught up a 

 gallon or so of cold water and weeds and 

 a beetle or 2, I managed to lift my head 

 above the surface. Tom had accomplished 

 the same feat. We got out of our bedding 

 — I don't know how — and stood close up 

 against the edge of the bluff. 



"D'you 'spose he'll follow?" gasped Tom 

 in a whimper. 



I didn't answer. I grabbed Tom by the 

 arm, and, bending low down in that water, 

 which made the marrow in our bones 

 frappe, we crept silently along by the bluff 

 until we were yards away and then made 

 such a rush as we could across the pond. 

 There was a tree on the bank. We 

 climbed into its lower branches and sat 

 there shivering. To our ears came again 

 an occasional "woof" and growl from the 

 site of the tent. 



"I b-b-blieve he's g-got old Jim!" chat- 

 tered Tom, and I thought so, too. 



"Let's call for him," I said. "We're safe 

 enough ourselves, anyhow." 



We shouted together, and, promptly, 

 there came back an answer from the vicin- 

 ity of the tent. We knew then what the 

 situation was. A few yards from the tent 

 stood a solitary tree, a scrub oak, 6 or 8 

 inches in diameter. 



"Where are ye?" roared Jim. 



We called back in explanation, and then 

 came an inquiry the most cruelly insulting 

 ever made by one human being of another. 



"Ye've seen yer bear. Are ye both 

 keepin' cool?" 



Keeping cool ! We who had wallowed 

 in and clambered through an acre of ice 

 water ! Through teeth that played like 

 castanets we cursed the man in the other 

 tree and threatened to kill him in good 

 time if the Lord but spared our lives; and 

 the old villain only laughed. But the 'case 

 was getting serious. 



"What's the bear doing?" I shouted. 



"He's got the tent ripped to pieces and is 

 gettin' away with the provisions. He's big 

 as an ox." 



"What shall we do?" 



"Do ? Nothin' but wait until he goes 

 away. That is," Jim added, "unless you 

 thought to take yer guns along, or Mr. 

 Lorimer's got that big knife with him. 

 There's a good chance now at the old fel- 

 ler's vertebray. He's got his head down 

 in the pork kag." 



It was awful, this derisiveness on the 

 part of Jim, but we were helpless. We 

 were in no mood for retort. We were 

 getting more and more benumbed with the 

 cold. Then Jim started out in another 

 vein, and more honest and earnest, telling 

 us to clamber to the ground and dance 

 about until we got our blood in circulation 

 again. It was a beautiful and inspiring 

 spectacle as we followed his advice. We 

 danced furiously until a degree of warmth 

 did come to us ; but we kept mighty close 

 to the tree, though reassured by continu- 

 ous verbal bulletins from Jim as to the 

 bear's whereabouts and occupation. It was 

 a fearful night, the hours passing like days 

 to everybody save, of course, our visitor. 

 It was dawn when he sauntered away, for 

 the time, at least, the best fed monster of a 

 grizzly in all Montana. He didn't pass 

 within 100 yards of us, but Tom and I were 

 in that tree again when Jim called to us 

 that the brute was leaving. 



We gathered at the camp and there held 

 counsel. Tom wanted to kill Jim as a pre- 

 liminary to the proceedings, and the guide 

 was finally spared only because we needed 

 him. The place was the finest wreck of 

 a camping ground ever seen. Jim himself 

 cheerfully admitted that ; and of provisions 

 for a month not more than debris enough 

 to last a week remained. Still, the tent 

 could be patched together, after a fashion, 

 the guns and cartridges were all right, and 

 the meeting terminated in a council of war. 

 We were bloodthirsty. Jim was with us 

 there, for he had been cold himself. We 

 wanted the life of that particular bear. 

 We got it, too. But that is another tale. 



First Doctor. — Has the trouble reached 

 an acute stage ? 



Second Doctor. — I should say it had ! 

 I've paid 46 visits and I haven't received 

 a cent on account ! — Judge. 



