Dec. 20, 1913. 
FOREST AND STREAM 
787 
nails started from the side of the house; she 
liked it and got so she wouldn't eat unless I 
fired off a cap pistol as a sort of a blessing and 
sign to begin the feast. A twenty-two caliber 
made her sit down a long way off, a twelve-guage 
turned her into a wooden dog or a high-powered 
projectile. Yet at home she cared nothing about 
the sight of a gun or the report. Perhaps be¬ 
cause she had nowhere to run, she was already 
home. 
I will never forget the day that marked the 
beginning of the end. Late one warm Septemb- 
ber afternoon we set out for as pretty a little 
corner of cover as sportsman ever gunned. It 
held a flock of young grouse. They were scat¬ 
tered and as one flushed wild I endeavored to 
show the dog how easy it is to kill one of these 
ghosts. That shot which wouldn’t have made 
her wink at home turned her into a wooden dog. 
I finally had to carry her bodily twenty rods from 
the scene before she would move a muscle. Still 
shivering with fright, she tried to thank me for 
delivering her from unknown death. I have no 
reason to doubt but that she would have stood 
motionless a week had I not helped her out. 
All bird sense left her after this. Not only that, 
but when she struck scent in after days she 
would leave the woods, and on several occasions 
when a bird flushed unexpectedly she almost 
W HEN I was in the Nowgong (Lower As¬ 
sam) district of India we were much 
troubled by the depredations of the wild 
elephants and bears, who came down from the 
hills in the dry season of the year, apparently 
simply for recreation and mischief. The former 
contented themselves with upheaving the “kutcha 
pucka” bridges on the Government roads and 
elsewhere, but were, as a rule, otherwise harm¬ 
less; and were distinctly dangerous, and we all, 
both sahibs and natives, were always on the 
watch for them and their playful little ways. 
The daily (dak) mail, both up and down the 
trunk road, was carried by “Kachari'’ runners, 
men of very fine physique, who took the mail 
over a considerable distance at the steady and 
respectable pace of seven miles an hour in stages 
of about seven miles for each runner up, and 
back the same stage with the down mail, in the 
twenty-four hours. The “dak” or mail consisted 
of two, three, or four or more runners, according 
to the size of it. Now, at the season I refer to 
frequently one of the runners would be “grabbed 
at” by a bear lying in wait, usually hiding behind 
a tree abutting on the road, or another favorite 
position was at the end of a parapet of a bridge; 
the bear grabbed at the last of the runners, who 
went in Indian file, and it was their custom to 
arrange among themselves who was to be in 
the van and who should be the last man. I 
saw at least two of these “kachari” ex-runners, 
one side of the face of each having been torn off, 
the result of a “grab” by a mischievous bear, and 
they both told me they had been the last men 
of the respective “daks.” The runners were each 
armed with a spear, with bells attached, and one 
of them carried a horn to give notice to the 
relief runners as they approached the end of the 
stage. The bears I am speaking of were the 
ordinary brown hill bears, very playful, mis¬ 
chievous, or spiteful, or both, and very knowing, 
so much so that I more than once pointed out 
to some of the runners that it was quite possible 
that their bells gave notice of their approach to 
any of those beasts that happened to be within 
turned wrongside out to be out of the vicinity. 
I always let her follow me to the woods and by 
the same sign she always left me once I was 
safely there, whether I had a gun or not. The 
greatest kindness had always been shown her 
even in the most provoking moments. 
Some one was found who wanted to try to 
break her of gunshyness more than I did. I 
made sure they would be kind to her and in her 
new -surroundings I understand she is doing a 
little better, although she tore off a Marathon 
the first time her new owner took her to the 
woods. 
I am not discouraged. I learned more than 
I taught. This experience was one in a hun¬ 
dred, for I know of many cases where young 
dogs started right off as good dogs without yard 
breaking of any kind. As a sign of the faith 
that is in me I already have another pointer 
and am as confident he will love the birds as I 
am that “Biddie” tried to, for she gave me the 
best that was in her and I have nothing but 
admiration for the affectionate little lady. Per¬ 
haps that love which 
—hath power to tame a savage, 
Break a rock and cook a cabbage, 
may make her a dog hard to equal in the days 
to come. If so, I want the first chance to shake 
hands with her trainer. 
hearing, and who promptly put himself in wait¬ 
ing for them; but I was always received with 
the same apathetic reply that if “Permissa” 
(God) arranged it so, it must be so, etc. 
We ourselves had to be careful during this 
season in visiting one another at dusk, or after 
dusk, and it was our plan that “where we dined 
we slept.” Now this was a wisely made rule, and 
not to be disregarded with impunity, as I will 
try to show. 
One evening in February, Arthur G., a near 
neighbor of mine, came to dine with me and I 
took it for granted that, as usual, he was going 
to stop for the night. However, about ten o’clock 
he asked- me to order his pony to be saddled to 
go home. It was a very dark night, and I did 
my best to dissuade him from going, but he urged 
important work in the morning which could not 
be neglected, and went off. I did not hear till 
the next day what happened. It seems that Ar¬ 
thur G. had only arrived as far as the first bridge 
in the trunk road, some 400 yards from my 
bungalow, when he was “grabbed” at by a bear, 
who was waiting at the end parapet of the bridge. 
He was riding a white Arab racing pony at the 
time, which took fright and bolted with him 
right up into the verandah of his bungalow, a 
distance of about two and a half miles. Arthur 
G. then found that the bear had torn his ’eg 
open from the knee to the ankle, and he was on 
his back for many weeks after, but thanks to 
youth, a good constitution, and the liberal use 
of carbolic oil, etc., his leg was saved, and he 
eventually became all right. One evening later 
on at the end of Mardh I found myself with 
nothing to do, nothing to read, till the next mail 
came in, and it struck me that I would ride over 
and dine with my friend K., my nearest neigh¬ 
bor, whose bungalow was some eight miles away. 
It wanted about three-quarters of an hour to 
sunset when I gave the order, “Buggins gora ke 
gin lagoa” (saddle the horse, Buggins), at the 
same time retiring to don breeches and boots, 
but upon returning to the verandah I found in¬ 
stead of Buggins another horse, Jack Horner, 
had been saddled and brought up to the bunga. 
Here I must explain that Buggins (or Joe Bug¬ 
gins to give him his full name) was a useful, 
powerful country-bred nag of the cart-horse type, 
and with a mouth like iron. My old friend Jack 
Horner, a New Zealander on the other hand, 
although possessing a very nasty temper, was a 
nice horse, with gentlemanly manner, provided 
you could stick to him for the first mile or two 
till his ardor had cooled down a bit; he was a 
born “lepper.” 
Now Jack Horner was training for a district 
spring meeting, and for this reason I had not 
ordered him to be saddled; at the same time I 
did not want to be out after sunset. I also had 
Arthur G.’s late experience fresh in my mind, 
which helped me to the conclusion that an eight- 
mile canter would not do Jack Horner any harm, 
so I started off. The road was a good one, the 
first four miles being in the Grand Trunk road, 
and the second four miles being on an excellent 
road through a Government reserve “sal” forest. 
I had gone about two miles over this latter por¬ 
tion of the way, when, in the forest to the right 
of me and some twenty yards from the road, I 
saw a big brown hill bear. This did not for the 
moment upset me in any way, until, upon turn¬ 
ing round in my saddle, I found that my bear 
was on the road and after me as fast as he could 
come, and the pace a bear can travel for a cer¬ 
tain distance is not inconsiderable. This in it¬ 
self was not alarming; at the same time I urged 
Jack Horner into a hard gallop. At the next 
bend in the road, however, what was my con¬ 
sternation to see a big tree lying across it and 
barring the passage some 300 yards ahead. So 
matters now appeared more serious, with a bear 
behind and a formidable obstacle ahead. It did 
not take me more than a second to realize that 
until I was on the other side of that tree and 
away, I or Jack Horner, or both, ran a most 
excellent chance of being badly mauled by the 
pursuing animal. The “sal” forest was too thick¬ 
ly planted to make any attempt to round the 
obstacle on either side. By this time I may say 
we, as Jack Horner had also realized the gravity 
of the situation. Now Jack Horner was a great 
horse, and they say that great minds think alike, 
and I think we simultaneously decided to jump 
the obstacle; so when I asked him I felt him 
“get” himself together under me. I knew that 
he was with me and was going to do his best, 
and he did. We cleared the tree; Jack Horner 
hit himself rather badly on his off fore, but kept 
upright and was none the worse afterward. 
Having placed a respectable distance between 
ourselves and the bear, I had time to turn round 
and watch his movements. He had trotted up to 
the tree and clambered over it. He stood watch¬ 
ing us for a couple of minutes or so, then slowly 
wandered off into the forest. 
My friend K. had had the tree cut down only 
that day to be cut up for firewood. We went to 
measure it the next morning, and it measured 
4 feet 2 inches in diameter. It was not a big 
jump, but an awkward one, with a nasty take¬ 
off from a good but hard gravelly road. I do 
not know what would have happened had not 
the mistake been made of saddling the wrong 
horse, as the bull-headed Buggins would not, or 
rather could not, jump a three-foot hurdle, much 
less a green jump of this description; but my old 
friend Jack Horner, who, in spite of his bad 
temper, had always been a favorite of m : ne, had 
now proved himself to be a friend in need. 
There are seven spruces in the United States. 
Four are confined to the West; two to the East; 
while one, white spruce, has a continent-wide dis¬ 
tribution. 
A Happy Mistake 
By W. R. GILBERT 
