THREE IN A BOAT.
The Cascade Mountains in Oregon and Washington Territory are full of
bears, and as the inhabitants seldom hunt them, the animals are
disposed to be sociable and neighborly and wander about close to the
settlements. Harry Dumont and Rube Fields had a very sociable evening
with a black bear at the Upper Cascades on the Columbia some years ago.
They were crossing in a boat above the falls, when Dumont, sitting in
the stern, pointed out what he said was a deer, swimming the river,
about a hundred yards away. Rube bent to the oars and pulled towards
the head that could just be seen on the water, intending to give Dumont
a chance to knock the deer on the skull with a paddle and tow the
venison ashore. When the bow of the boat ran alongside the head the
supposed deer reached up, caught hold of the boat and clambered aboard
without ceremony. It was a black bear of ordinary size, but it was
large enough to make two men think twice before attacking it with oars.
The bear quietly settled himself on the seat in the bow of the boat and
looked apprehensively at the men, who were so astonished that they did
not know whether to jump overboard or prepare for a fight. As the bear
made no hostile movement they decided not to pick a quarrel. The boat
meanwhile had drifted down stream and got into swift water, and Rube
Fields saw that he must row for all he was worth to avoid going over
the falls, which would be sure death. The bear seemed to realize the
danger and acted as though he was uncertain whether it were better to
stay aboard or take to the water again.
"Pull! pull for the shore!" urged Dumont, in a hoarse whisper, and Rube
bent to the oars with all his muscle, glancing nervously over his
shoulder at the silent passenger in the bow. The bear kept one eye
suspiciously on the men and the other on the distant shore, and gave
every indication of great perturbation of spirit. It was a hard pull
to get the heavily-laden boat out of the current, but Rube finally
accomplished it and rowed into safer water. He hoped that the bear
would slide overboard and abandon the boat, as it made him nervous to
have such a passenger behind him, and it was awkward rowing with his
head turned over his shoulder all the time. He suggested to Dumont
that they make a rush for the bear and pitch him out, but Dumont
declined and told him to pull ashore as fast as he could. Rube pulled,
and as soon as the boat's prow grated on the sand, the bear made a
hasty and awkward plunge over the side, scrambled up the bank with his
head cocked over his shoulder to see if there was any pursuit, and
galloped away into the woods in evident fear.
Rube Fields wiped the perspiration from his brow with his forearm and
fervently said, "Thank the Lord!"
Dumont gazed after the galloping bear and murmured, "Wellibedam!"