UP AGAINST A GIANT GRIZZLY. 



419 



I verily believe if old Eph had hit 

 the horse with that terrible right paw of 

 his the blow would have torn the cayuse 

 in 2. 



Thus missing his aim, the bear came 

 down on all fours again. The rifle flew 

 to my shoulder and another 40-82 plowed 

 its way through the bear's neck, 3 inches 

 behind his ear, a little too low to finish him. 

 That drew the bear's attention from Joe 

 toward John and me. Rising to his full 

 height, he came our way. A hop, skip, 

 and jump took me out of the line of attack. 

 From the back of his fearless horse John's 

 aim cut the bear's windpipe, and Joe again 

 sent a ball through his shoulder. Getting 

 close to John, the bear aimed a vicious 

 blow at him, but, being about finished, 

 missed him and struck the horse's shoul- 

 der, breaking the bone, so we had to kill 

 the horse afterward, and sending steed and 

 rider flying into a dry creek bed 20 

 feet away. The bear dropped dead at that 

 instant, getting another bullet in the head 

 from Joe as he fell, followed by Joe's ex- 

 clamation, 



"He's done for, boys!" which was the 

 sweetest music we had heard for many a 

 day. 



All this happened so quickly that, after 

 bravely getting out of the bear's path, I 

 turned and saw John and his horse tumb- 

 ling over, John falling heavily on the gravel 

 and stone and getting his left leg caught 

 under the horse. Thinking, of course, that 

 both were gone, I muttered something, un- 

 der the feeling of horror which took hold 

 of me. John says I saicl, "Oh, my God" : 

 but I can't verify the statement. With a 

 desperate pull, badly spraining his ankle, 

 John freed himself, grabbed his rifle, and 

 pumped another shot into the bear. 



"What are you shooting him for now?" 

 said I. 



"I want to know he's dead," was the 

 prompt reply. 



Jake Snyder, who then came on the scene, 

 said we 3 were as white as death will ever 

 paint us. Temporarily we had forgotten 

 about the horse. John's wonderful self 

 control had not forsaken him a moment. 

 We asked him how he felt when he tum- 

 bled. 



"Oh, I was not hurt," he replied; "but 

 while I lay there, pinned fast by the horse, 

 the time seeming an age to me, I felt cer- 

 tain the bear was finishing either you or 

 Joe." 



After an impromptu census of our com- 

 pany, finding all alive, and practically little 

 the worse for wear, we thought of the bear 

 again. With quickened breath we looked 

 at the motionless heap of fur, unable, at 

 first, to realize that at last our dream to 

 kill a bear had come true, and a prolonged 

 shout of joy expressed our feeelings. 



It took 7 shots to stop old Eph, but any 

 one of 6 would have finished him in time. 



Our prize would have weighed 1,100 to 

 1,200 pounds, and was estimated to be 20 

 to 25 years old. 



With considerable difficulty a passable 

 wagon track was found, the bear was load- 

 ed, and triumphantly hauled to camp, where 

 he was dressed at once under the directions 

 of our guide, in order to properly preserve 

 the hide and meat. 



All our joy, however, was dimmed by the 

 sad fate of the horse — a common broncho 

 of the Western plains. There he lay, his 

 commercial value scarce $10, finding his 

 death because in life he knew no fear. 

 Had he stampeded at the first attack, as 

 many another would have done, one or 

 more of us might have been in his place. 

 We looked at one another in silence after 

 taking a last glance at this homely but 

 noble representative of the animal so true- 

 ly called man's best friend. 



Returning from the mountains, we were 

 informed by settlers and hunters that this 

 bear had infested the section where we 

 found him for the last 5 or 6 years, had 

 killed lots of cattle, and though hunted re- 

 peatedly had managed to elude his pur- 

 suers every .time in the same region. 



John Edington, Snyder and I have had 

 the animal mounted life size, and will re- 

 tain it as our joint property in memory of 

 our experience. It stands in the bank 

 lobby at Fullerton, Neb., where anyone 

 can see it. It is pronounced by old hunters 

 the largest mounted silvertip in the coun- 

 try. 



Country Bridegroom — How much do ye 

 git, parson, for marryin' folks? 



Meek Parson — Well, the law allows me 

 $1.50. 



Country Bridegroom — So? Then here's 

 50 cents; that'll jest make $2. 



