FOREST AND STREAM. 

[Ocr. 12, 1907. | 







CHESTNUT (Castanea dentata MARSH ) BORKH. 
1, Branchlet bearing leaves and fruit; 
3, branchlet in 
winter. 
mature 
careful all around, expectin’ every minute to see 
some elk, for there was lots of ’em in the moun- 
tains. All to once, a little behind an’ below me, 
I heard a loud snort.. I knowed what ’twas 
even before I turned my head an’ saw it: ’twas 
a thunderin’ big bear a standin’ up on his hind 
legs a lookin’ at me an’ a workin’ his long black 
snout tryin’ to get the wind of me. Quick as 
I could I raised my rifle an’ plunked him one 
in the brisket. Down he went, a squallin’ an’ 
a bawlin’, a thrashin’ around, an’ then he 
up an’ come for me, an’ I plunked him again, 
breakin’ a fore leg. But that wan’t all. My 
Gawd! at the sound of my shot up riz some 
more bears. The brush seemed to be full of ’em, 
an’ out they came toward me; the nearest one 
stopped by the one I had crippled an’ they had 
a set to for a few seconds. I shot at him, an’ 
down he went, hurt bad, but in no time he was 
up an’ after me. I shot again an’ ran up the 
hill, noticin’ as I turned that they was six of 
"em a comin’. Right here, I thinks, is where 
old Weaver loses out. I stopped, turned and 
an’ 
2, involucres 
The one-inch squares show the size. 
(burrs) opening to liberate the nuts; 
shot at the nearest one. Over he keeled, a bitin’ 
at the wound an’ roarin’ fearful, an’ when the 
came up he tackled ’em, thinkin’ that 
they had given him that awful pain in his guts 
(I had shot him too far back). That give me 
time to run over a bit farther, maybe twenty 
or thirty yards, an’ then they came on. This 
time I fired at two different ones, an’ hit ’em 
both, an’ that gave me another chance to run 
on a few yards, but on they came. I throwed 
down my fur cap, an’ ran again. When they got 
up to it they pawed and chawed it a bit, an’ 
I plunked three more shots into ’em. Then I 
ran on, a pullin’ off my coat an’ droppin’ it be- 
hind me. They stopped to muss that an’ I got 
in four more shots, an’ ran. But in a minute 
or so, I see I couldn’t run any more. I was 
plum winded an’ would have to make a last 
stand. I turned an’ saw two still a comin’, an’ 
I did my best. One I hit in the jugler vein 
the first shot, an’ he stopped mighty quick, a 
coughin’ an’ gaspin’ an’ clawin’ at his neck; 
tother one I plunked the bullets into consider- 
others 


able fast, but it seemed as if I couldn’t hit tl 
right place. Every time a bullet struck him ] 
would bawl fearful, but he’d keep comin’ ju 
the same. Gawd, but I was scart! But I ke 
on_a shootin’ an’ at last by good luck a bull 
struck him in the brain an’ he dropped deac 
but so clost that I could put out my foot a 
touch him. 'T worked the ever of thd old gt 
an’ sighted to give him one more shot for luc 
The hammer just clicked when I pulled the tri; 
ger. The magazine was empty! 
“T looked back down the trail. There wi! 
a bear here, a bear there, this one still, that or! 
still gaspin’, another one with his back broke}, 
tryin’ to drag himself down hill. TI filled ttl] 
magazine with cartridges front my belt an’ weil! 
back to finish the cripples. ‘Gawd!’ I say 
‘wonder how many they was of *em?; abo: 
fifteen, I guess.’ They wan't; they was jult 
seven of ’em, all good big he’s and she’s. 
they had been one more, or if I hadn’t made |! 
lucky scratch with the last shot, I would su { 
have passed in my checks on that mounta 
side.” é 
Back Weaver went to camp, “Uh-huh!” sail! 
Tingle. “Wet feet an’ no meat. Well, we'l), 
right dry an’ comfortable here, an’ them buffal ¢ 
boss ribs a hangin’ outside are good enoug 
for us. Maybe you wouldn’t object to a fe 
of ’em boiled nice fer supper?” 
“Fellers,” said Weaver, very solemnly, “T’y 
made a big killin’ an’ had a damn clost cal 
They’s seven grizzlies a lyin’ up there on tt 
side of the mountain, and you can just help ski 
‘em before they get stiff an’ freeze.” | 
At first his partners could not believe his tal)| 
as ‘he was always playing jokes on them, bi 
finally convinced that this time he was in earnes 
they went up the mountain with him. Su 
enough, there lay the bears strung out along th 
trail. Tingle and Abbot both shook his hanc 
but somehow there were no words spokei 
Words sometimes are superfluous between ol 1 
and tried friends. 
William Weayver—never 




















































was there a bette, 
hearted, kindlier, more generous wanderer 'jj 
the plains. After the railroads were built, some 
where along in the ’90s, he went to Ohio to vis : 


a sister, his sole remaining relative, and w f 
never heard of him again. s 
ih 
{ 
New Publications. fr 
THE versatility of Mr. Albert Frederick Hocl 
walt, kennel editor of the Sportsman’s Reviev 
Cincinnati, Ohio, is in evidence through tk 
medium of two works recently published by hin/§ 
“Arrows of Ambition, a Romance of the Thirt 
Years’ War,” is an interesting story of love, wa 
travels and adventure, and is of thrilling interes) ; 
“Dog Craft,” which will be published in boo} ¢ 
form in the near future, treats of all breeds cls 
dogs, particular attention being paid to the his! 
tory of famous sporting dogs, their origin, fiell! 
performances, training, care and management, eti| 
anaes 
— te 
“THE TRAIL To THE Woops,” by Clarenc } 
Hawkes, is a collection of nature stories the { 
will amuse the young people. Mr. Hawkes wali 
very fond of watching the small woodsfolk whil]! 
he was a boy, and although he is totally bling) ¢ 
the result of an accident with firearms, he write] 
pleasingly and well, as readers of his “Storie}o 
of the Good Greenwood” can attest. Publishe]! 
by the American Book Company, New York. 



