SOME BEAR STORIES. 



S. N. LEEK. 



In the fall of 1890 Nick and I were 

 camped on Pacific creek, hunting bears. I 

 had killed many bears, but never a large 

 grizzly ; and it was the height of my ambi- 

 tion to meet one and try conclusions with 

 him. 



One morning, taking a saddle horse and 

 a pack horse, I went up a small tributary 

 of Pacific creek nearly to the divide, and 

 camped in a small meadow. After picket- 

 ing the horses and fixing up camp, I went 

 out for a little hunt, and soon found and 

 killed a small bull elk. I returned to camp, 

 had supper, and was wrapped in my blan- 

 kets, when I was brought to a sitting posi- 

 tion by hearing the horses snorting and 

 tugging on their ropes. Luckily the ropes 

 held them, and they soon quieted down. 

 I could hear some animal rustling the 

 bushes, but, although it was bright moon- 

 light, I could see nothing, and was soon 

 asleep. In the morning I saddled up and 

 started for my elk. On going up the hill 

 where I came down the night before I saw 

 by the tracks that my visitor of the previous 

 evening was a large grizzly. When dress- 

 ing the elk I had purposely got blood on 

 my boots, and the bear, striking my track, 

 had followed it back. He had eaten some 

 and pulled the carcass around, but had not 

 attempted to bury it. Packing one horse 

 with meat, I was soon at the home camp. 



Next morning, with a pack horse to carry 

 the trap, I went back to the bait. When 

 within 300 yards of it, knowing something 

 of the nature of bears, I tied the horses and 

 proceeded cautiously on foot. From the 

 top of a small hill, near the bait, I looked 

 carefully for some time at every thing and 

 place that might conceal a bear. My atten- 

 tion was directed to a dark spot in the 

 shade of some fir trees, near a log, about 

 100 yards away. I studied it for some time, 

 when suddenly it moved, and a bear's head 

 looked over the log toward the bait. It 

 was the bear I was looking for. I crept 

 forward a few feet, rested my 40-82 Win- 

 chester on a log, took careful aim and 

 fired. The shot was answered by a roar. 

 The bear sprang over the log to the right, 

 then straight toward me, then to the left, 

 then straight away and out of my sight, I 

 not daring to move, for fear he would spot 

 me and come my way. 



I heard another howl and all was still. 

 After listening some time without hearing 

 a sound, I started down cautiously. Soon 

 I caught sight of the bear. Getting a lot of 

 logs in front of me, I went to within 30 



feet of him. He did not move, but I 

 thought it wise to take a shot at the butt 

 of his ear before going closer. Then I 

 went up to him. I have killed 50 bears, 

 and he was the largest I have ever seen, 

 dead or alive. I took his hide off, filled a 

 2 bushel sack with fat, and returned to my 

 little meadow. 



Next morning I packed up and was soon 

 at the home camp, feeling pretty good and 

 anxious to tell Nick of my success. On 

 asking him what luck he had had, he sur- 

 prised me by taking off his hat and inquir- 

 ing if his hair was gray. "No," I replied; 

 "why do you ask?" "Oh, I got scared yes- 

 terday and didn't know but it had turned 

 my hair gray." Then he told me what had 

 happened. 



When we first made camp a party of In- 

 dians had just left a camp l / 2 mile up the 

 creek. They left lots of bones and meat 

 lying around, and the bears began going 

 there. We set a trap and caught a grizzly, 

 and trailed it over the creek until it reached 

 the hill. There the bear dug a hole and got 

 in, and there we found and shot him. -Nick 

 had taken the ax and gone over to get its 

 teeth. When he was within 30 yards of the 

 place where it lay, behind a big log, he was 

 surprised to see a big grizzly rise up from 

 behind the log and look at him ; then an- 

 other, and another, and another. After 

 taking a good look the 4 ran off up the hill 

 and Nick made tracks for camp for his 

 rifle. 



With a horse and the trap he went back, 

 never dreaming of seeing the bears again. 

 He had put his rifle against the log, within 

 reach, and was busy setting the trap, when 

 he noticed the horse looking toward the 

 timber. Nick looked, too, and saw 2 griz- 

 zlies. Just then one gave a bawl and came 

 for him on the run. He had just time to 

 reach for his rifle, cock it and shoot. The 

 bear dropped dead, so close to him he could 

 touch it with his rifle. The other grizzly 

 had been standing looking on. It gave a 

 howl, ran the other way and escaped. 



Nick shot the first grizzly square in the 

 breast, the ball passing through its heart 

 and half the length of its body. His rifle 

 was a 40-82, single shot Winchester. Had 

 this bear lived as long after being shot as 

 did the one I killed, Nick would probably 

 have lost his life. In nearly every case 

 where a hunter is killed by a bear it is the 

 fault of the gun. One single shot rifle, 

 loaded, is worth 10 repeating guns with 

 shells stuck fast in them. 



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