XXIV 



RECREATION. 



THE NERVE OF A TENDERFOOT. 



E. L. HOWE. 



I passed the summer of 1902 in the Cas- 

 cade mountains in the company of Jack 

 Purely, who came to me through Recrea- 

 tion. Purdy was about 40 years of age, 

 strictly city bred, and had never fired a 

 gun more than half a dozen times in his 

 life ; but he proved to be one of those rare 

 tenderfeet who can adapt themselves to 

 any circumstances. He brought with him 

 a new 30-30 rifle and after a few days' 

 practice he became proficient with the 

 little gun, making good scores at target 

 practice. 



We left Creswell, Oregon, July 16th, 

 journeying by easy stages up the middle 

 fork of the Willamette. We took 4 horses, 

 2 of which we rode, the others being 

 packed with an ample supply of provisions. 

 The 18th of July we reached a place on the 

 river called Campers' Flat, where we re-, 

 mained several days. The third day at this 

 camp we crossed the river to a deer lick 

 and took our position behind a huge log. 

 In about an hour 2 deer came in 

 sight, one of which proved to be a large 

 buck. The deer advanced within 50 yards 

 when the buck stopped, offering a broad- 

 side shot. I expected to see Purdy tremb- 

 ling with excitement, but he was as cool 

 as when shooting at a mark; and when at 

 the crack of his rifle the buck fell, shot, as 

 we afterward found, through both shoul- 

 ders, Purdy seemed as free from buck 

 ague as an old hunter. 



We could easily have se'eured the other 

 deer had we wished, but as we were out 

 for sport and not for butchery we let her 

 go. 



We made our permanent camp on the 

 North fork of the Umpqua river, to the 

 Southwest of Cowhorn peak, which is a 

 notable landmark in the range. One 

 morning while we were hunting together 

 about a mile from camp, we discovered a 

 large bear, evidently a grizzly, about 150 

 yards from us on the opposite hillside. He 

 did not discover us until we had opened 

 fire on him. At least one of our first shots 

 took effect, for, as the bear started to run, 

 we could see that he was wounded. One 

 of his hind legs dragged as if it was 

 broken. In spite of his wound he ran 

 like the wind and soon disappeared in a 

 small thicket. Each of us feathered in 6 

 or 8 shots apiece before he reached cover, 

 but could not stop him. On crossing to 

 where the bear was first discovered we 

 found a plain trail of blood. Purdy was 

 for following the trail into the brush, but 



1 persuaded him not to, telling him it 

 might be the same as committing suicide. 

 We found, however, on making a circuit 

 of the thicket, that the bear had passed 

 through the thicket. We followed the trail 



2 or 3 hours until it entered a small thicket 

 of greasewood brush. There we separated, 

 Purdy going to the right while I went to 

 the left. We had nearly come together again 

 where the trail entered the brush, when 1 



saw my companion throw his rifle to his 

 shoulder. At the same instant the bear 

 broke cover, charging directly on Purdy. 

 Jack stood pat, and fired as fast as he 

 could work the lever of his rifle, but with- 

 out apparent effect. The bear passed with- 

 in 20 yards of me and I fired no less than 

 3 shots, point blank, without checking his 

 speed in the least. At the same time I 

 shouted, 



"Run ! Jack, run ! For God's sake, run !" 

 but Jack did not run until the bear was 

 within 6 or 8 feet, and he afterward said 

 he would not have started then but that 

 his gun was empty.. As I raised my gun 

 for the 4th shot it seemed to me that no 

 power on earth could save Purdy, but I 

 drew full and fair on the head of the 

 bear just at the butt of his ear. At the 

 crack of the heavy 45-90 the animal col- 

 lapsed like a wet rag, the bullet crushing 

 the whole top of the skull. Flad the shot 

 been delayed a fraction of a second, the 

 life of my friend would have been snuffed 

 out like a candle, for at the instant I 

 fired the bear made one of those terrible 

 overhand swings, barely missing Purdy's 

 head, and literally tearing the coat from 

 his back. I have seen men exposed to ex- 

 treme peril, but I never before saw a man 

 so near death. 



The most singular part of the affair, to 

 me, was that Purdy did not seem to rea- 

 lize the danger through which he had 

 passed. He hardly changed color, while I 

 was so weak and sick after it was all over 

 that I could hardly stand. I have never 

 been able to determine whether Purdy was 

 in ignorance of his great peril or whether 

 it was a matter of sheer nerve on his part. 



The skin of the bear was in poor condi- 

 tion, owing to the season of the year, so 

 we did not preserve it. We merely re- 

 moved the largest claws, which Purdy took 

 East with him. 



We remained at that camp about 2 weeks 

 before returning to the valley, when Purdy 

 took his departure home well pleased with 

 his trip. 



RAIN AFTER DROUGHT. 



EDITH L. SMITH. ■ 



The cloud is a harp in the sky, and a song 

 Drips sweet on the strings of the rain, 



To the Earth lying parched and dry, "Do 

 not mourn, 

 Resurrection I bring you again. 



"For I am the music of Birth, and I come 

 After Death that goes silenced and bare, 



Looking down T see verdure of Earth, faint 

 and numb, 

 And I weep o'er her whitened hair. 



"Drip fast my voice! O men hark, it is I. 



Bid you turn to your ploughs at hand — 

 Perfume of sod, and song of swift lark, rise 

 on high ! 



I bring life to a thirsty land." 



