420 



Forest and stream. 



[Nov. 16, 1896. 



IN JONES'S BAYOU.— IV. 



I have not space to describe the one-hundredth part of 

 this year and a half in the swamp. I will give one more 

 description of a bear hunt with hounds and then close the 

 Jones's Bayou stay. About two weeks after Uncle Taylor 

 and I had killed the bear at the water hole Uncle Zack 

 Jones and Uncle Martin organized a big hunt. Uncle 

 Taylor was too old to follow the hounds, as it is very hard 

 work and requires an active man to crowd his way through 

 the cane. On this hunt we had the combined packs of 

 Uncle Martin and Uncle Jones. We were to hunt for 

 several days, as the Jones boys had found a great deal of 

 freBh bear sign three or four miles back of their place and 

 the bears had killed quite a number of calves and hogs for 

 the settlers. We wer9 to hunt with Uncle Martin's pack 

 of twenty- two hounds the first day and Uncle Jones's pack 

 of twenty-seven hounds the second day. Jim Pyron, my- 

 self, the four Jones boys, Uncle Martin and Uncle Zack 

 Jones composed the hunters. The two Beaver boys had 

 to haul some cotton to Greeneville and could not accom- 

 pany us. Jim Pyron told me that if I wanted to kill the 

 bear I would have to get one of the Jones boys and tip 

 him pretty heavy, and then I would get a shot. Other- 

 wise one of the Jones boys was sure to kill the bear, 

 as they were young and strong and knew every trail and 

 short cut through the cane and would beat me to the bear 

 invariably. I told him that I was something of a woods- 

 man myself, and would try my luck with them. 



We all started about daybreak and by sunrise were in 

 the bear country. We were all armed with Winchesters, 

 and each man carried a hunting knife and a machete or 

 cane knife, also a horn in case he got lost in the dense 

 canebrakes. After a little trailing by all the dogs in dif- 

 ferent directions, old Ring, Uncle Martin's leader, opened 

 up in full cry with his deep bass voice, and in a moment 

 the whole pack was in full cry. Now, I have heard Gil- 

 more's special artists, the Mexican Band of seventy pieces 

 in the city of Mexico, Adelina Patti and a few other real 

 artists in the musical world — but for genuine, unadul- 

 terated music give me the chimes of a pack of hounds in 

 full cry. Now, don't say "Pshaw! fool! crank!" Maybe 

 you "ain't built that way," but if you were, you would 

 say, "Bravo, old fellow; I'll see you one and go you one 

 better!" 



Well, to come back to the real facts of the case, the 

 dogs now began to make it pretty interesting for bruin. 

 Do you know, kind reader, that a bear, as big and awk- 

 ward and slow-looking as he is, will just make a good 

 horse hump himself to keep up with him for a short dis- 

 tance? And if you ever get into a close place with 

 Brother Bruin, don't you try to outrun him, but just face 

 him and stop him somehow. You might just as well try 

 to outrun a good hound as to undertake to outrun a bear. 

 A bear is very swift for a limited space of time, but can- 

 not hold his wind. 



We now began to hear great brawls, the smashing of 

 cane, the snapping and snarling of the hounds, and every 

 now and then a hound would yelp with pain. It did not 

 require any great amount of experience to tell me what 

 that meant. The dogs were overhauling the bear every 

 now and then, and when they came up with him the en- 

 tire pack would cover him. Old brain would fight them 

 a moment or two, then shake off most of them, and run 

 over the remainder and start out again. Then there 

 would be a lively race for 200 or 300yds. , and the same 

 thing over again. Finally the dogs will get the bear 

 thoroughly aroused, hot and mad, and if it is a young 

 one it will take a tree; but if it is an old grandpapa or 

 grandmamma "there is going to be a fight, and razors 

 am a-flyin' through the air." 



The hunters can tell by the baying of the dogs and the 

 general sound of the battle whether the last stand has 

 heen made or not. When it comes, then there is a general 

 rush for the scene of conflict. The old hunter always 

 loves his dogs, and the bear will kill them all if be does 

 not arrive on the field and take a hand. Now comes the 

 tug of war. It is an easy matter to follow the general 

 course of the bear and hounds by getting into the open 

 bed of a bayou. One can almost go at a gallop on horse- 

 back. But when the final stand and last fight come, you 

 must leave the bayou beds, and go right through the 

 matted canebrakes and jungles to get to the dogs. This 

 stage of the game has now been reached. We «an all 

 hear, about a half mile distant, the battle raging, and 

 never were more gallant charges made at Marathon, 

 Balaklava, or Marengo than this noble pack of hounds 

 made upon the infuriated beast at bay. We all dis- 

 mounted and scattered through the woods, each seeking 

 to get there first; Jim Pyron and I kept close together, as 

 Jim said it was best not to tackle that bear alone. We 

 pushed, and shoved, and chopped with our hack knives, 

 and crawled upon hands and knees, trying to penetrate 

 that almost impenetratable jungle. A bear always makes 

 for the very thickest jungles in reach, in the vain hope 

 that the dogs cannot follow him, The sound of the fight 

 became more and more distinct and we were both in 

 hopes that we would reach the ground first. We were 

 much chagrined, however, when within about 300yds. of 

 the battle, to hear the report of a rifle, then another and 

 another. When all was still excepting the occasional bay 

 of a hound, or the constant whine of the wounded dogs. 

 Jim brought out an oath that would make Pluto blush, 

 and said, "I told you sot" "Them durn Jones boys air 

 eheu hogs every one of them !" 



Sure enough the Jones hoys had been too swift for us, 

 and when we arrived we found a lai'ge dead bear, three 

 dead dogs, two wounded ones and the ground "tore 

 up." My! what a fight there had been right in a dense 

 canebrake. The cane was smashed down, broken and 

 smeared with hair and blood for three rods square. John 

 Jones, the oldest one of the Jones boyB, assisted by his 

 brother Jim, had killed the bear. The bear had been 

 opened and the hounds all fed on the offal. That is cus- 

 tomary, as the hounds expect it, and it encourages them 

 to hunt and fight the next time. 



We now counted up the dogs and examined the wounded 

 ones. One was dying and John Jones shot him to end 

 his misery. The other we carried home on a litter made 

 of cane laid across two poles and tied with strings and 

 strips of bark. I would have carried that dog ten miles 

 myself rather than see him die of starvation out in that 

 jungle after fighting so nobly. We were glad to find 



that none of the best trailers or leaders were hurt— just 

 the fighting dogs were injured. That cut Uncle Martin's 

 pack down to eighteen dogs. It was a pretty severe blow 

 to the old man, but he " 'lowed that he had plenty of 

 pups coming on, so he reckoned he would have to stand it." 



We now fell to work, all hands strung out in a line and 

 cut a broad trail through the cane out to the horses. We 

 loaded the bear on the largest and strongest horse, and 

 after strapping the bear to the horse and the dog to the 

 litter we started out. We had gone not a half mile when 

 old Ring slipped off from us, and in a few moments was 

 in full cry again. The whole pack sprang into the cane, 

 and the music opened up again. We stopped and lis- 

 tened, and in a few moments heard the dogs baying in a 

 long and continued bay, such as you have heard a dog 

 howl at the moon, Uncle Martin said, "Treed, by 

 gravy!" and all hands again struck into the cane. I 

 noticed that I did not see John Jones, and I knew that he 

 had slipped away from us without saying anything, and 

 that he was then in all probability about to shoot the 

 bear. In a few moments I heard a rifle and I said to 

 Uncle Jones, "It seems to me that John does not want 

 any of the others of us to get a shot." 



Old Uncle Jones grunted and said, "Wal, John alus 

 wus a durn flop-yeared hog about everything. He hain't 

 satisfied 'thout the tother boys an' gals too gives him 

 the chooze of everything. But I guess I ought not to 

 grumble, 'kaze John is a mighty powerful good hunter, 

 an' has saved me many a fine noun'." 



When we got there we found that John had shot the 

 bear out of a tree. It was a young one and hardly half 

 as large as the first one. We cut a trail to the horses 

 again and were soon on the road toward home. We ar- 

 rived at Uncle J ones's house about noon without further 

 incident. Here we all had dinner, and after skinning the 

 two bears and dividing we went home. I only took a 

 small part of the meat and some of the claws and teeth as 

 trophies. Uncle Jones and Uncle Martin divided equally 

 and each sold his share at the railroad camps before the 

 sun went down. 



We slept soundly that night and at break of dawn were 

 all mounted and ready to start from Uncle Jones's house 

 again. We were to hunt with Uncle Jones's pack that 

 day. Allow me a few words to describe the dogs. Just 

 five years previous to this fall a rich cotton factor from 

 St. Louis had come to Jones's Bayou and had hunted three 

 solid weeks with Uncle- Jones over on the Yazoo and Sun- 

 flower rivers. When he went home he sent Uncle Jones 

 two fine beagle puppies, a male and female. He sent col- 

 lars on the pups, and on one was engraved, "Mark An- 

 thony," sired by so and so, dam so and so and so and so. 

 On the other was engraved "Cleopatra," sired by so and 

 so, dam so and so and so and so. Anyway, the gentle- 

 man, in return for the sport he had enjoyed in participat- 

 ing in the killing of nine bears and a number of deer and 

 turkeys, had made Uncle Jones the present of a fine pair 

 of pedigreed, registered beagles. Uncle Jones could never 

 have bought such a pair of dogs, as I guess they cost up 

 in the hundreds. To say that he was proud of them and 

 loved them is to put it mildly. That gentleman could 

 have had all nine of Uncle Jones's sandy-haired gals if he 

 had wanted them, and he would almost have been willing 

 to have thrown in his old woman for good measure. To 

 come to the point, the whole of Uncle Jones's pack was 

 the offspring of this magnificent pair of hounds. He had 

 crossed his fighting dogs with bloodhounds until he had as 

 fine a pack of bear hounds as there was in the State of 

 Mississippi. Old Mark was getting old, but he still had 

 lots of spunk left in him and a nose that any hound could 

 be proud of. Old Cleo had been killed last year in a bear 

 fight, so Uncle Jones had an especial love for Mark, as he 

 considered him his "lead hound." and taught all the pup- 

 pies under his especial guidance. 



Now you understand what we were hunting behind. 

 None of your mongrel pack of curs and rabbit dogs. 



Before we started I quietly slipped a five-dollar bill into 

 John Jones's hand with a hint that if he wanted any 

 future favors from me I must kill the bear that day. 

 John went off and held a consultation with his three 

 brothers, and from that moment he was my slave. The 

 truth is, they all of them frequently borrowed small sums 

 from me which I never took the trouble to ask them for, 

 and I knew this threat or very plain hint would bring 

 them to time. The boys did not have the same principle 

 that their father had. Old man Jones was a "diamond in 

 the rough," and had a very high sense of honor; so did 

 Uncles Taylor and Martin. 



Well, we are now on the road; the hounds are jumping 

 and yelping, and it keeps Uncles Jones and Martin both 

 busy watching them and blowing them in, they are so 

 eager to hunt. Uncle Jones has to scold old Mark more 

 than once; he will lead the other dogs off into the cane, in- 

 stead of trotting on behind the horses, as we wish them 

 to do, until we get into the bear country. The dogs have 

 not hunted since last year, and are far more ardent for 

 the sport than the hunters. So we have to watch them to 

 keep them in, for fear they will go racing off after a deer 

 or varmint of some kind, entirely forgetting their well- 

 taught manners; that is, to hunt nothing but bear. We at 

 last reach the bear country, somewhere within a mile or 

 two of where we had been before, judging from the direc- 

 tion we had been traveling and the time on the road. 

 Old Mark has now picked up a fresh trail, which has 

 crossed, during the night, the bayou bed we were follow- 

 ing. The whole pack is off in full cry— the deep bass of 

 old Mark down to the fine yelp of the youngest puppy 

 who is out on his initial hunt. Great Jupiter! I know if 

 thou couldst sit upon thy throne on Mount Olympus, and, 

 gathering all thy subordinate gods and goddesses round 

 about thee, listen to such music as this, thou wouldst 

 crown Diana queen of all! Yea, even the beautiful and 

 seductive Venus would sink into oblivion and be lost from 

 thought and sight while such music held the soul 

 enchanted. But enough of such soliloquy. We 

 were off down a bayou bed in the direction 

 of the dogs as fast as we could go. The party now 

 divided, One-half going down the bayou bed and the 

 other half taking a direction at right angles to the course 

 we were following. Experience, the day before, had 

 taught us that the dogs were in fighting trim, and it was 

 necessary to get to them as quickly as possible when the 

 bear was brought to bay. In this way, if the bear 

 doubled back on his track, as they often do, the other 

 party would be able to reach him sooner than we could 

 retrace our steps. John Jones told me to keep right by 

 his side if I wanted to kill that bear, and as I had invested 

 $5 worth already in bruin's hide, I took his advice. We 



were soon far in advance of the others of the party. 

 John was big and strong and broke the way through the 

 cane, and although I had all my clothes torn off of me, 

 and nearly had my eyes jabbed out a dozen times, I man- 

 aged to keep up with him. John is the best bear hunter 

 I have ever seen. Stanley ought to have had him in his 

 party in making his explorations of darkest Africa. John 

 would have run some of those Jing-ga-hoos or Kin-ka- 

 poos out of their holes, I'll bet you. 



The dogs were wrestling manfully with old Bro. Bruin. 

 John said he was a "son of a gun"— said he could tell by 

 the fight he was putting up. We got nearly to the scene 

 of battle several times, but just before we could see them 

 the bear would break through the dogs and go again. 

 Finally we heard just ahead of us the awfulest, most 

 blood-curdling row that man's ears ever listened to. John 

 started on a run. "Come quick," he said, "they have 

 got him cornered, and he is mad as a Mexican bull by 

 now, and will kill every dog in the pack if we don't git 

 thar in a hurry." I instinctively stuffed two or three more 

 cartridges into the magazine of my rifle and followed. 

 Somehow when you are preparing to tackle a mad hear 

 you like to know that the magazine is full, as well as one 

 in the barrel. We had to get down flat on our stomachs 

 and crawl along for 100yds. before we got to the fight. 

 The cane was so thick and stiff and. matted up with vines 

 that there was no getting through it; so we followed the 

 path or swath broken down by the bear and hounds. As 

 the bear is not very tall when running, we had to crawl to 

 follow him. We finally emerged into a little clearing or 

 place where fire had burnt out the heavy cane and it had 

 grown up again in switch cane. It was in this circle or 

 arena that the dogs had bayed the bear. 



As soon as we emerged from the cane John gave a 

 whistle. "Ge whiz! what a buster!" he said. I could 

 see at a glance that we had an unusually large bear to deal 

 with. The circle in which the fight was going on was not 

 more than 30yds. across. The combat was raging near 

 the center; so John walked around until almost opposite 

 to me, just enough to one side to keep from shooting each 

 other. I understood his motive as soon as the first shot 

 was fired. When two persons are shooting into a bear 

 from opposite directions he is apt to become confused and 

 not charge either. The dogs were all over the bear, on 

 both sides, on top and under him. John shouted to me to 

 pick my chances, and not shoot the dogs. 



This I fully intended to do, but circumstances always 

 make cases and mould one's actions. I watched for a 

 chance for several minutes, when finally the dogs broke 

 away and left the side next to me clear of obstruction. I 

 am quick with a rifle, so in a second I had planted a ball 

 in the foreshoulders. I wanted to oripple those terrible 

 forepaws of his if possible. There was a howl of rage; 

 the bear bit his shoulder several times, then turned 

 directly toward me prepared to charge me. John 

 shouted, "Look out! look out!" I yelled back to him, 

 "Shoot, you infernal fool! Are you going to stand there 

 and see him eat me up?" John laughed, but did not 

 shoot. By this time I had another cartridge in my rifle 

 barrel, and made up my mind that I was going to kill 

 that bear if I had to shoot every ball through a hound. 

 I don't say that I was not scared, for I was; but I did not 

 lose my head. The danger seemed to steady my nerves. 

 There was no possible chance to ran and no tree to climb 

 within reach. The bear had his mind made up to annihi- 

 late me, and I knew it was only a matter of about three 

 seconds for him to cover the 30ft. intervening between 

 us. John would not shoot to attract his attention in an- 

 other direction, so shoot I did, and at a 2:40 gait, too, I 

 tell you. It did not make any difference whether a hound 

 popped in between my sight and the bear just as I was 

 pulling the trigger or not. After my rifle had belched 

 fire four times, and there were two hounds dead 

 on the ground from the bullets, and at least three 

 of the balls had taken effect on the bear, he rose on 

 his hindfeet and started for me, My jaws closed like a 

 steel trap. I have never had my nerve tried quite so hard 

 since that time, and I don't hanker after it any more, 

 either. I was like a person drowning — I thought of every- 

 thing mean I had ever done since I was born. Well, just 

 as the bear started to me old Mark Anthony sprang in 

 front of him and grabbed him by the throat. Now John 

 got excited; he sprang forward like a tiger to save old 

 Mark, but he was not quick enough. The bear snapped 

 at him once with his vise-like jaws, but could not reach 

 him, as Mark had a death grip on his throat. Then, with 

 a quick slap of his powerful forepaw, he sent old Mark a 

 bleeding, mangled mass into the edge of the cane. John 

 had by this time arrived close to the bear, and both of us, 

 leaning forward until our rifle barrels almost touched 

 him, fired. The bear rolled over as dead as Hector, after 

 Achilles had dragged him four times around the walls of 

 Troy. John had blown the whole top of his head off, and 

 my ball broke his neck. Eheu! eheu! eheu! wasn't I 

 glad? The cold sweat was standing out in beads all over 

 my face. I was scared, and "scared bad" too; but I had 

 held my nerve, and neither John nor any one else had a 

 chance to laugh at me. I do really believe that cold-na- 

 tured fellow would have let that bear hurt me if he could 

 only have had a great big joke to tell on me for being a 

 coward. 



We now cut the old fellow or en and fed the hounds, 

 which were clamoring for their share. The poor beasts 

 were really hungry, as old hunters always starve their 

 dogs for a day or two before they go hunting. They say 

 it makes the hounds hunt better and fight harder than if 

 they are full. 



By this time all the other hunters have arrived, and the 

 sight of old man Jones bending over the dead body of 

 Mark crying like a child was really pathetic. I did riot 

 until then know that a man ever formed such an attach- 

 ment as that for a dog. The old man said, "I hed a 

 powerful sight sooner a give the whole balance o' the pack 

 an' a kept this one dog." 



The mortality was terrific. Five dead hounds and two 

 badly wounded. That was a dear bear. Two of the 

 hounds had been killed by my bullets, three had been 

 killed outright by the bear and two wounded. I offered 

 to pay Uncle Jones right on the spot for the two dogs I 

 had killed and told him it was necessary to save my life. 

 He would not have a cent, but he gave John a terrible 

 abusing for not trying to save the dogs and not taking a 

 hand in the row sooner. John said that I "hed gi'n him 

 a bran new $5 bill for the 'tunity to kill that bar and he 

 wanted me to get my money's wuf." John wanted to 

 get the laugh on me, but he didn't get it and lost five 

 hounds trying it. 



