UP AGAINST A GIANT GRIZZLY. 



HON. T. C. KOCH. 



John H. Edington, Jacob Snyder and I, 

 after first visiting the Yellowstone Nation- 

 al Park, joined the rest of our party, con- 

 sisting of Joseph Edington, Perry Cooper, 

 of Rochester, N. Y., guide, and J. W. Har- 

 vvood, cook, at Aberdeen, Mont., and start- 

 ed early in October, 1899, for the West 

 slope of the Big Horn mountains to hunt 

 deer, and, perchance to kill a grizzly. 



As had been our misfortune the year be- 

 fore, we were again just late enough to 

 land in the snow storms on the summit, 

 which old settlers say are always certain to 

 come early in October. The dried result 

 to us was poor luck. Only one fawn came 

 to our camp to relieve the monotony of a 

 bacon diet. After the second day the 

 weather was awful ; low hanging clouds, 

 fog, and unceasing snow storms. We wait- 

 ed 5 days for a change, and then, in de- 

 spair, we decided to try our luck in a lower 

 altitude. 



The next day found us camped on Lodge 

 Grass creek, a tributary of the Little Big 

 Horn river. Dividing into 3 parties, we 

 started in as many different directions to 

 look for deer signs. Joseph Edington and 

 I came back to camp at noon, and, seeing 

 Jake Snyder, asked him what luck. 



"Saw no deer, but found a bear," was his 

 reply. He added that he and John Eding- 

 ton had come back to get the other boys, 

 including our guide, and to move on our 

 long lost friend in force. We ate our din- 

 ner, discussed the disposition to be made 

 of the bear, oiled every joint of our rifles, 

 tested the workings of the magazines thor- 

 oughly, and, as the snow was melting rap- 

 idly and our guide failed to show up, start- 

 ed, with John and Joe Edington on horse- 

 back and Jake and me in a wagon on which 

 to load the bear. 



When we arrived at his tracks the team 

 was tied and the hunt commenced, through 

 berry patches and mountain stream shrub- 

 bery. We had to cross and recross the 

 creek, following in his trail. Finally I 

 could not follow one of the crossings, as 

 the water was several feet deep and I had 

 on only shoes. Crossing a fallen tree low- 

 er down, I lost the trail in an endeavor to 

 get back to Jake. By that time the snow 

 was practically gone, and the Edingtons 

 had to circle the brush patch with their 

 horses. Imagine a dense thicket where wil- 

 lows, white thorn, and choke cherries have 

 grown and died and grown again for hun- 

 dreds of years, and you have an idea of the 

 bear's favorite hiding place. Looking for 

 an opening to get through the brush, I 

 found one of the bear's runways, a sort 



of tunnel about 3 feet in diameter, with 

 branches closed in overhead. Twice I en- 

 tered it, and twice stepped back again under 

 the influence of a feeling I can not de- 

 scribe. Then the thought flashed in my 

 mind, "I can not afford to act the coward 

 now." Say, stranger, did you ever get on 

 the trail of a big grizzly where it was so 

 hot you could smell it? No? Well, let 

 me tell you now, if you ever do your hair 

 will stand straight up — if you have any. 

 If you haven't, well, then, your blood is 

 likely to freeze up and burst the pipes. 

 Your feeling of horror must have an out- 

 let some way. 



My hair stood up a while, and then, with 

 my trusty Winchester ready for instant ac- 

 tion, I entered again, passing through 

 without incident, expecting to see the fresh 

 footprints of our game. Emerging on the 

 opposite side, I met the Edingtons and 

 asked where Snyder was. John said, 



"He is still in the patch," and whistled 

 for him, receiving an answer after the 

 fourth or fifth trial. As Jake afterward 

 explained he had heard the bear then, and, 

 wanting to get a good shot, was afraid to 

 disturb him. I started immediately in the 

 direction whence the answer came, but had 

 scarcely gone 5 steps when, after a crack- 

 ing of brush, the bear jumped into a small 

 opening and endeavored to sneak away. 

 At his second jump my rifle 'ball went 

 through his stomach, drawing a terrific 

 roar from the victim. As a wounded bear 

 always charges in the direction of the rifle's 

 crack, I jumped aside toward John; but 

 the bear spied Joe and charged him, clear- 

 ing 40 feet in 3 jumps. At the third jump 

 John sent a bullet through his heart, and 

 Joe put one in his shoulder. 



Then came the most intensely interesting 

 moment of the scrap. John's horse stood 

 motionless as the rock of Gibraltar. I was 

 about 8 or 10 feet in front of him, 40 feet 

 beyond was Joe, his horse somewhat res- 

 tive ; and between us was the bear, growl- 

 ing and snarling, standing erect, paws 

 raised to a level with his ears, none of us 

 daring to shoot for fear of hitting another. 

 Rifles having cracked on both sides of him, 

 the bear seemed in doubt which man to 

 attack. Then suddenly, with mouth wide 

 open, he made a lunge at Joe. The fear- 

 ful teeth, coming within a few inches of 

 closing over Joe's right leg, are, to this 

 day, most vivid in my mind's eye. Just 

 in the nick of time Joe's old sorrel, with a 

 jump measuring 5 long steps, carried him 

 safely away. 



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