EDITOR'S CORNER. 



TWO GREAT BEAR STORIES. 



The December number of Recreation 

 will be a treat to all big game hunters or 

 lovers of adventure. Among other good 

 things it will contain 2 of the best bear 

 stories I have ever read, and they will be 

 illustrated by 2 of the greatest animal 

 painters in the world — Ernest Seton- 

 Thompson and A. B. Frost. 



One of the stories was written by George 

 B. McClellan, an old time Wyoming cow- 

 boy, and the style is typical of that class of 

 men. Anyone who has ridden or camped 

 with cowboys has admired the peculiarly 

 terse, forcible vernacular which prevails 

 among them. Here is a sample: 



Two cow punchers, who were making a 

 long ride, halted at noon at a farm ranch 

 in the foothills. The owner was a little 

 sawed-off man, about 4 feet 6, and his 

 wife was 2 inches shorter. They had 3 or 

 4 children who were also sadly abbreviated. 

 They could not help it and no one blamed 

 them. 



After lunch the 2 range riders saddled 

 up and hit the trail. They rode probably 

 2 miles without exchanging a word. Then 

 the man in the rear said to the leader, 



"Say, Jim, that's the first outfit I ever 

 struck where everybody had to sit in a 

 high chair." 



Another story is of 3 cowboys who 

 crossed the Gros Ventre range one day in 

 the dead of winter. They found the snow 

 so deep on the summit that they had to 

 leave their horses, go ahead on foot and 

 break the trail. Even then the little 

 cayuses could only wallow through. The 

 men finally got over the divide, rode down 

 into the valley and called at ex-Governor 

 Richards' ranch. The Governor and his 

 wife of course welcomed them in typical 

 Western style and asked them what on 

 earth they meant by undertaking to cross 

 the mountains on such a day as that, 



"What's the matter?" said one of the 

 boys. 



"Why," said the Governor, "this is the 

 coldest day of the winter. The mercury 

 did not get out of the bulb until n o'clock 

 this morning, and now stands at 42 degrees 

 below zero." 



The cow punchers stood, in front of the 

 fire smoking cigarettes, as if nothing had 

 happened. Finally one of them turned to 

 the other and said, "Sav, Mike, I thought it 

 was a little chilly on the mountain this 

 morning." 



But to return to the bear stories: Mc- 

 Clellan, who wrote one of them, is a typical 

 cowboy. He wastes no words, but makes 

 every one count. He makes no effort at word 



painting, yet he tells his story in such a 

 way that as you read you can see the bear 

 tracks in the snow; you can hear the muf- 

 fled "thump, thump," of chunks of snow 

 falling from the cedars; you can hear the 

 distant growl of a bear as the trail grows 

 hot; you can hear the brush crack, as it 

 grows still hotter, and you can finally hear 

 the sharp angry growls and yelps of the 

 dogs as they close in on the 4 grizzlies. 

 You can hear the smashing of logs, the 

 tumbling of rocks and the din of battle 

 as the 4 bears charge the 9 dogs, and you 

 can hear the rapid music of the rifle as the 

 big brutes are sent, one after another, 

 curling and tumbling, to their long homes. 



But I must not tell you too much of the 

 story. You must read it. 



The other bear story I refer to is the 

 work of the Hon. T. C. Koch, a prominent 

 banker, and an ex-i~ember of the Nebraska 

 Legislature. This yarn is told with equal 

 force and snap, but the circumstances are 

 entirely different. In this case 3 men sur- 

 rounded an immense grizzly in a thicket. 

 The fight grew hotter and hotter from 

 start to finish. One of the men rode in 

 on his horse, in order to get a better shot, 

 and his courage came near costing him his 

 life. The bear killed the horse and the 

 man escaped by a hair's breadth. 



No single issue of any magazine ever 

 contained 2 such hair-lifting, blood-curd- 

 ling yet true stories of grizzly hunting as 

 these. You should tell all your friends 

 about them and advise them to read the 

 December number of Recreation. 



THE CLOVEN FOOTED DESTROYER. 



The four footed locust — otherwise the 

 tame sheep — has invaded the great game 

 range in the Teton country. Pathetic re- 

 ports come from many correspondents in 

 Jackson's Hole of the devastation being 

 wrought by this curse of the West. The 

 sheep may be a necessary evil, but it is one 

 that should be regulated by law, and that 

 speedily. The grass that grows on govern- 

 ment land belongs to everybody. Cattle 

 and horses may legitimately be raised on 

 it, and have been since the days of the 

 pio'neers. These herds do no permanent 

 damage. They may eat the grass off clean 

 one year and it will spring up as strongly 

 the next year. 



But the sheep is a destroyer. He shaves 

 the grass to the ground. Then he eats or 

 pulls up and destroys the roots. His sharp 

 hoofs cut and mangle any that escape his 

 teeth. His droppings are poisonous to 

 plant life. He leaves a stench in the land 



397 



