MARCH 


and made a short turn to the right about a small 
clump of bushes that stood by the roadside, when 
I saw through the morning haze a big bear sit- 
ting up on his haunches waving his head from 
side to side and looking down the road toward 
the team, As J] was unarmed, I went back to- 
ward the wagon and made better time than I 
had in going. The crowd were all about asleep 
and huddled together in the back part of the 
wagon, and on my excited requests for a gun and 
the statement that there was a bear up the road, 
told me to go to a much warmer place and drive 
along, I ‘only saw bears in my mind.’ At last I 
found out that the only shooting iron in the 
whole outfit was a shotgun, and no one had any 
cartridges for that. As I said, I had taken sev- 
eral drinks, and when one of the chaps handed 
out his black bottle and said ‘Here, Martin, take 
a drink and forget the bear,’ I took the drink but 
did not forget the bear. 
“Having imbibed some more Dutch courage, I 
began to think I could make that bear get out 
of the way, for all my experience with bears be- 
fore had been that they would not stand but 
would always run away from a man unless badly 
wounded, or unless it was an old she with cubs. 
So I looked in my jockey box and found I had 
an old butcher knife, what would be called a 
sticking knife. I took that out and_ started 
up the road again. As I walked along I picked 
up a piece of quaking asp, about four or 
five feet long, and as thick as my wrist, which 
lay by the road. -Some camper had cut it for 
firewood; it was partly dry and made a good 
HOW A PROSPECTOR LIVES. 
Photo by Frank F. Frisbie. 
strong club, I don’t suppose I expected to use it, 
but in my condition I was ready for anything. 
“The bear was still sitting up in the same place, 
as he had evidently not made up his mind what 
it was that was coming down the road and the 
wind had not carried the scent of the humans to 
him, or if it had he did not care. As I ap- 
proached him he turned his head toward me and 
did not make any move to get away, so I vas 
mad, and made a rush at him and struck with the 
club. Now, generally, a bear is no slouch at 
boxing, and how I got through his guard and hit 
him fair on the head at the butt of the ear is a 
mystery. But you know ‘a fool for luck,’ I did 
hit him and down he went. I made a jump and 
landed on top of him, grabbing him by the fur 
and ear, making a thrust with my butcher knife. 
Now, you know a bear is something like a hog 
in build, and by good luck I plunged my knife 
in the ‘sticking place’ and the point of it must 
have reached the heart. The touch of the cold 
steel revived him and I felt the mighty muscles 
rise under me and then, you bet, I vas sober. I 
realized then what I had done, and the way I 
hung on to that bear’s ear was a caution. He 
tried his best to turn his head so as to bite me, 
but I keep on thrusting with the knife. With all 
my strength and weight I could not hold that 
bear down. He just rose up mit me like I vas a 
paby. However, I held on and he could not bite 
me unless he could throw me off; and after what 
seemed an age, but was a very short time, I felt 
those great muscles relax a little and it seemed 
as if he was sinking down; the blood gushed out 
freely and I was covered with it from head to 
foct. I felt encouraged to hold on, and as I was 
ncw in possession of my wits, I knew I had given 
him a fatal thrust. It takes a long time to tell 
this, but it was not long, you bet. The great loss 
of blood had weakened the bear and he was soon 
done for, he ceased to struggle. I got up without 
a scratch but covered with blood. 
“T then walked back to the wagon and as it 
was now light enough to see well, found some of 
the boys awake and looking for me. They 
wanted to know how I had hurt myself, so as to 
get so bloody. I told them I was all right but 
had killed the bear. They would not believe me 
and soon had the whole crowd awake cussing me 
for a crazy Dutchman and telling me I had better 
go on, if I ever expected to get to Bellevue. At 
last I sot some of them to go up the road, and 
there we found the bear. We managed to get the 
team un the road and proceeded to skin the bear. 
It was a silver tip, and weighed between 300 and 
400 pounds; I thought he weighed a ton when I 
was trying to hold him. We took the hide and 
drove on to Bellevue, where we sold it to the 
brewery man and proceeded to have a glorious 
old time on the $18 he gave us. 
““After we had sobered up we went on to Rocky 
Bar. but I never told the story myself; there was 
no need, for those chaps told everybody, and as 
there were so many of them I did not have to. 
And anyway, if I had been alone and then had 
told about it.no one would have believed me, and 
you bet I would have peen a crazy Dutchman for 
sure.” FRANK F, FRISBIE. 
