CHAPTER X

THE BEAR (URSUS)

This is one of the oldest animals in history, and it has survived the

attacks of man far more successfully than the more noble beast the lion.

This survival may probably result from the secluded habits of the bear,

which cannot be classed among the destroyers, such as the carnivora,

although it is dangerous when hunted, and not unfrequently it attacks

man without any provocation.

The nature of most animals may be judged by the formation of their

teeth; those of the bear declare its omnivorous propensities--

In the upper jaw 12 molars, 2 canine, 6 incisors.

In the lower jaw 14 molars, 2 canine, 6 incisors.

There are so many varieties of the bear that it is impossible exactly to

define the food of the species. We see the polar bear (Ursus maritimus),

which, living upon seals and fish, differs from all others; the grizzly

bear (Ursus ferox) of Western America, which will eat flesh when it can

obtain it, but is a feeder upon roots and berries. Nearly all bears are

inclined to vegetable food and insects, accepting flesh when they find

the freshly killed body of an animal, but not seeking live creatures to

kill and eat. The sloth bear of India is an exception to this rule, as

it refuses flesh, and lives simply upon fruits, berries, leaves of

certain trees, roots, and insects of all kinds, the favourite bonne

bouche being the nest of white ants (Termites), for which it will dig a

large hole in the hardest soil to a depth of 2 or 3 feet. The molars of

bears have a close resemblance to those of a human being, exhibiting a

grinding surface for the mastication of all manner of substances. The

nose is used as a snout, for turning over stones which lie upon the

surface, in search of insects, slugs, worms, and other creatures, as

nothing comes amiss to the appetite of a bear.

The claws of the fore paws are three or four inches in length, and are

useful implements for digging. It is astonishing to see the result upon

soil that would require a pick-axe to excavate a hole. Upon the hard

sides of such pits as those made in search of white ants, the claw-marks

are deeply imprinted, showing the labour that has been expended for a

most trifling prize, as the nest when found would only yield a few

mouthfuls. I have never appreciated the name of "sloth bear" given to

Ursus labiatus, as it is a creature that works hard for its food

throughout the year, and being an inhabitant of the tropics, it never

hybernates. This species is very active, and although it refuses flesh,

it is one of the most mischievous of its kind, as it will frequently

attack man without the slightest reason, but from sheer pugnacity. A

full-grown male weighs from 280 to 300 lbs. The skin is exceedingly

thick and heavy. The hair is long and coarse, with a bunch upon its back

of at least 7 inches in length, but there is a total absence of fur,

therefore the hide has no commercial value. The chest is marked by a

peculiar pattern in whitish brown, resembling a horse-shoe, which is the

mark for aim when the animal rears upon its hind legs to attack. There

are five claws upon the fore feet, and the same number upon the hinder

paws. Although these are not retractile, neither are they so curved or

sharp as those of the genus Felis; they inflict terrible wounds upon a

human being, and when the head of a man has been in a bear's grip it has

generally been completely scalped. I have heard of more than one

instance where the scalp has been torn from the back of the neck and

pulled over the eyes, as though it had been a wig.

The Ursus labiatus seldom produces more than two or three at a birth,

and the young cub is extremely ugly, but immensely powerful in limbs and

claws. I have seen a very young animal which held on to the inside of

its basket when inverted, and although shaken with great force, nothing

would dislodge its tenacious clutch; this specimen was about six weeks

old.

Although many varieties of bears are tree-climbers, there are others

which are contented with the ground, and which could not ascend a tree

even should they be tempted by its fruit. The grizzly bear (Ursus ferox)

belongs to this class, and his enormous weight would at any time

necessitate especial care when experimenting upon the strength of

boughs. I do not believe that any person has actually weighed a grizzly,

but an approximate idea may be obtained through a comparison with the

polar bear (Ursus maritimus), which is somewhat equal in size, probably

superior. When I was in California, experienced informants assured me

that no true grizzly bear was to be found east of the Pacific slope, and

that Lord Coke was the only Britisher who had ever killed a real grizzly

in California. There are numerous bears of three if not four varieties

in the Rocky Mountains, and these are frequently termed grizzlies, as a

misnomer; but the true grizzly is far superior in size, although similar

in habits, and his weight varies from 1200 to 1400 lbs.

Mr. Lamont, in his interesting work Yachting in the Arctic Seas, gives

the most accurate account of all Arctic animals that he killed, and

having the advantage of his own yacht, he was able to weigh the various

beasts, and thus afford the most valuable information in detail. This is

his account of a polar bear (Ursus maritimus) which he himself killed :-

"He was so large and heavy that we had to fix the ice-anchor, and drag

him up with block and tackle, as if he had been a walrus. This was an

enormous old male bear, and measured upwards of 8 feet in length, almost

as much in circumference, and 4 1/2 feet at the shoulder; his fore paws

were 34 inches in circumference, and had very long, sharp, and powerful

nails; his hair was beautifully thick, long, and white, and hung several

inches over his feet. He was in very high condition, and produced nearly

400 lbs. of fat; his skin weighed upwards of 100 lbs., and the entire

carcase of the animal cannot have been less than 1600 lbs."

This weight is equivalent to a large-sized English cart-horse. I have

seen one of the skins procured by Mr. Lamont, and I can readily

appreciate his account of the weight. I have also seen a skin of a

grizzly bear killed at Alaska by Sir Thomas Hesketh; this was cured by

Mr. Rowland Ward, who showed it to me at his establishment, 160

Piccadilly, and it was very little inferior to the skin of the polar

bear. I quite believe the accounts I have received in California are

correct, and that the grizzly may sometimes exceed 1400 lbs. in weight.

There is a considerable difference in size between the male and female,

the former being superior. Like all other animals, the mother is

particularly attached to her young, and when in company with them she is

more than ordinarily ferocious, as she appears to suspect every stranger

of some hostile intentions towards her offspring.

The increase of population in many countries has resulted in the

destruction of all animals that were considered dangerous to man; thus

the wolf and the bear have both disappeared from Great Britain, and they

have become scarce in France.

Thirty-five years ago, I was in a wild portion of the Pyrenees, in the

hope of finding bears at the first snows of winter, when by extreme bad

luck a fall took place so suddenly and severe that a pass was blocked,

which prevented my arrival at a narrow valley, between the lofty

mountains named Tram-Saig. I had been assured that the bears would

hybernate at the commencement of winter, and that they could only be

found at the season when the first snow-fall would expose their tracks.

On the following day I managed to get through the pass, and to my

intense disgust, upon arrival, I found that I was a day too late, as the

Maire, who was a great chasseur, had killed two bears, a mother and

half-grown young one, on the preceding day, thus verifying the

information I had received.

I saw the freshly killed skins pegged out to dry, and a few days later I

ate a portion of the paws in an excellent stew when dining with the

Prefect of Bagneres-de-Bigorre, to whom they were forwarded as an

esteemed present.

The larger bear-skin gave me the impression that the original owner must

have been the size of a heifer twelve or fifteen months old. This was

the ordinary brown bear of Europe, which still exists in Transylvania,

Hungary, Italy, and especially in Turkey. The same bear inhabits Asia

Minor, and both these varieties hybernate at the commencement of winter.

In the extensive forests and mountains about Sabanja, beyond the Gulf of

Ismid, I have seen the wild fruit trees severely injured by the brown

bears, which ascend in search of cherries, plums, apples, walnuts, and

sweet chestnuts. The heavy animal knows full well that the extremity of

the boughs will not support its weight, it therefore stands erect upon a

strong limb and tears down the smaller fruit-laden branches within its

reach. Although bears are numerous throughout the forests, there is only

one season when they can be successfully hunted; this is in late autumn,

when the fruits are closing their maturity, and the apples and nuts are

falling to the ground. The bears then descend from the mountain heights,

and may be found late in the evening or before sunrise in the

neighbourhood of such food.

Asia Minor and Syria possess two distinct varieties of bears, although

the countries are closely connected, and these animals are not

inhabitants of the same district. The Syrian bear is smaller than the

ordinary brown bear, and would hardly exceed 300 lbs. in weight. The fur

is a mixed and disagreeable colour, a dusky gray of somewhat rusty

appearance, but blanched in portions as though by age. This species is

to be found at the present day upon Mount Horeb, and the natives assured

me that, when the grapes are ripe, it is necessary to protect them by

watchers armed with guns, to scare the bears during night.

Wild animals which hybernate have a peculiar instinct for selecting

hiding-places, which can seldom be discovered; in these they lie, free

from all intrusion.

The fruits of late autumn fatten the bear to a maximum condition, and

when the harvest is over, and the ground is covered with a dense sheet

of snow, it retires to some well-known cave, high among the mountains,

in such undisturbed seclusion that it is seldom visited by the foot of

man. Within a cave, nestled in ferns or withered leaves and grass, the

fatted bruin curls itself to sleep throughout the winter months, and the

warmth necessary to its existence is supplied by its own fat, which,

being rich in carbon, supports vitality at the expense of exhaustion of

supply.

If the fat bear could see itself previous to hybernation in November,

and again be introduced to its own photograph upon awakening from its

sleep in March, it would be prepared to swear against its own identity.

It arises from its winter's nap in wretched condition, having lived

entirely upon capital instead of income. Young shoots, and leaves of

spring, wild tubers which it scratches from the ground, detected by its

keen sense of smell, together with snails, beetles, worms, and

everything that creeps upon the earth, now form the bill of fare, until

the summer brings forth the welcome fruits that reproduce the condition

which the bear had lost through hybernation.

It is impossible to unravel many of the mysteries of Nature, and the

cause which prompts the instinct of a winter's sleep will always remain

doubtful. I should myself attribute hybernation to the necessity of

repose at a period when food was impossible to procure. The body can

exist for an incredible length of time, provided that it is capable of

undisturbed rest, which appears in a certain degree to take the place of

extraneous nutriment. It is well known that every exertion of the

muscles is a loss of power, the force of the body being represented by

heat. To lift a weight or to move a limb requires a certain expenditure

of heat, which means force; this loss of heat and power is recuperated

by food; thus in the absence of provisions for the necessary supply,

there would be no loss of heat if there is no exertion. Sleep is the

resource, as the body is not only at rest, but the brain is also

tranquil; there is accordingly a minimum of exhaustion. Human beings

have been known to live without food of any kind (excepting water) for a

period of forty days, and have then resumed their ordinary course,

simply confining themselves to moderate diet for the first few days

after their long abstinence. In a time of starvation in Africa I have

frequently composed myself to sleep in the absence of my daily food, and

I have awoke without any disagreeable craving for a meal. Continued

sleep will to a certain extent render the body independent of other

nutriment, and I should imagine that the custom of hybernation has been

induced by necessity. At a season when the fruits of the earth are

exhausted, the ground frozen to a degree that would render scratching

for roots impossible, an animal that was dependent upon such productions

for its existence must either starve or sleep. The sleep is in itself a

first stage of the process of starvation. The creature that can sleep

through an existence of four months without food, and lose the whole of

its fat during that interval of inaction, has already lost all that

supported life during the period of total abstinence--the fat, or

carbon. If it were to begin another turn of sleep in its exhausted

state, it would be unable to support its existence.

I therefore regard hybernation as the result of the highest physical

condition, the animal being thoroughly fat; the food ceases, and the

beast, knowing this fact, lays itself down to sleep, and exists upon its

own fat, which gradually disappears during the interval of starvation.

The bear wakes up in spring with a ragged ill-conditioned skin, instead

of the glossy fur with which it nestled into rest; and it finds its coat

a few sizes too large, until an industrious search for food shall have

restored its figure to its original rotund proportions.

The proof of this necessity for repose during a period of enforced

abstinence will be observed in the independence of tropical bears, which

do not hybernate, for the best of all reasons, "that there is no

winter," therefore they can procure their usual food throughout every

season without difficulty or interruption.

The animals of America are all exaggerated specimens of the species, and

the grizzly bear, if standing by the side of the ordinary brown bear of

Northern Europe, would hardly exhibit any striking difference except in

superior size and a slight roughness of colour. I have heard the

question frequently discussed when in the Big Horn range of the Rocky

Mountains in Wyoming; some of the professional hunters term all bears

grizzlies, while others deny the existence of the true grizzly except

upon the Pacific slope.

There is no doubt that all the American bears will eat flesh whenever

they can obtain it, although they do not pursue animals as objects for

food. The usual custom in bear-shooting is to kill a black-tail deer and

to leave the body untouched. If this course is pursued throughout the

day, three or four deer may have been shot in various localities, and

these will lie as baits for the bears.

At daybreak on the following morning the hunter visits his baits, and he

will probably find that the bears have been extremely busy during the

night in scratching a hole somewhat like a shallow grave or trench, in

which they have rolled the carcase; they have then covered it with earth

and grass, and in many cases the bears may be discovered either in the

act of working, or having completed their labour, they may be lying down

asleep half gorged with flesh, and resting upon their own handiwork. In

this position it is not difficult to obtain a shot.

When I was in the Big Horn range in 1881 several shooting parties had

preceded me on the two previous seasons, and the bears had been worried

to such an extent that they were extremely cautious and wary. There was

a small party of professional skin hunters who were camped within a mile

of my position, consisting of two partners, Big Bill and Bob Stewart.

The latter went by the name of Little Bob, in contrast to his enormous

companion. Bob was of Scotch extraction; he was about 5 feet 5 inches in

height, very slight, and as active as a cat. In his knowledge of every

living creature upon the mountains he was perfect; from the smallest

insect to the largest beast he was an infallible authority. Bob was a

trapper and hunter; he followed the different branches of these pursuits

according to the seasons; at one time he would be trapping beavers and

red foxes, at another he would be shooting deer for the value of their

hides. This cruel and wasteful practice I shall speak of in another

portion of this work.

His only weapon was a single-barrelled Sharp's .450 rifle, and he

possessed the most lovely mare, beautifully trained for shooting, and

not exceeding 14 1/2 hands in height. Little Bob, on his little mare,

would have formed a picture. On one occasion I had returned to camp a

little after 5.30 P.M., and as the sun sank low, the deep shadows of the

hills darkened our side of the narrow glen, and by 6 o'clock we were

reduced to a dim twilight. Presently, in this uninhabited region, a

figure halted within 15 paces of our tent, which was evidently Bob

Stewart, mounted upon some peculiar animal of enormous bulk, but with a

very lovely high-bred-looking head. This was Bob's pretty mare, loaded,

and most carefully packed with the trophies of his day's sport, as a

solitary hunter, quite alone and unaided since 8 A.M. His pony carried

the skins of three bears and four black-tail deer, which he had shot,

skinned, and packed upon his sturdy little companion.

The bears consisted of a mother and two half-grown young ones of the

choice variety known as "silver-tipped." He had come across the family

by chance while riding through the forest, and having shot the mother

through the shoulder, she fell struggling between her cubs; these

pugnacious brutes immediately commenced fighting, and a couple of shots

from the rapid breechloading Sharp rifle settled their ill-timed

quarrel.

Bob was the most dexterous skinner I ever saw; he would take off a skin

from a deer or bear as naturally as most persons would take off their

clothes; and the fact of a man, unassisted, flaying seven animals, and

arranging them neatly upon the Mexican saddle, would have been a

tolerable amount of labour without the difficulty of first finding and

then successfully shooting them.

The hide of the largest bear would weigh fully 50 lbs., those of the

smaller 25 lbs. each = 100 lbs. The four black-tail deer would weigh

fully 50 lbs. Therefore the mare was carrying 150 lbs. of hides, in

addition to Bob Stewart, who weighed about 9 stone, making a total of

about 276 lbs., irrespective of his rifle and ammunition.

It was a strange country; the elevation of our camp was about 10,000

feet above the sea-level, although we were in a deep and narrow glen,

close to a very small stream of beautifully clear water. Upon either

side the valley, the hills rose about 1400 feet; at that season

(September) the summits were in some places capped with snow. The sides

of the hills, sloping towards the glen, were either covered with forests

of spruce firs, or broken into patches of prairie grass and sage bush,

the latter about as high as the strongest heather, and equally tough and

tiresome.

The so-called camp was upon an extremely limited scale; a little

sleeping tent only 7 feet by 7, and 5 feet 8 inches in the highest

portion; this had no walls, but was simply an incline from the

ridge-pole to the ground; it was a single cloth, without lining of any

kind, and bitterly cold at night. This was rough work for a lady,

especially as our people had no idea of making things comfortable, or of

volunteering any service. If ordered to come, they came; to go, they

went; to do this or that, they did it; but there was no attempt upon

their part to do more than was absolutely required of them. Shooting in

the Big Horn range is generally conducted upon this uncomfortable plan.

It is most difficult to obtain either men or animals; but, although

useless fellows for any assistance in camp, they were excellent for

looking after the horses and mules, all of which require strict

attention.

We had only four men, all told--my hunter Jem Bourne, the cook Henry (a

German), Texas Bill, who was a splendid young fellow, and Gaylord.

Although I have travelled for very many years through some of the

roughest portions of the world, I have always had a considerable

following, and I confess to disliking so small a party. Including my

wife, we were only six persons, and it was impossible to consume the

flesh of the animals killed. I cannot shoot to waste; therefore upon

many occasions I declined to take the shots, and thus lost numerous

opportunities of collecting splendid heads; this destroyed much of the

pleasure which I had anticipated. There were no Indians, as they are

confined to their reservations; therefore it was almost criminal to

destroy wantonly a number of splendid beasts, which would rot upon the

ground and be absolutely wasted. Several parties of Englishmen had not

been so merciful; therefore the Americans had no scruples, and commenced

an onslaught, general and indiscriminate, shooting all animals, without

distinction of age or sex, merely for the value of the skins; the

carcases of magnificent fat deer were left to putrefy, or to become the

food of the over-satiated bears, which themselves fell victims in their

turn.

This was the slaughter in which Bob Stewart and Big Bill were engaged in

partnership. They never shot in company, but each started upon his

independent course at 8 or 9 o'clock A.M., after having employed

themselves since daylight in pegging out the skins to dry, that had been

shot on the previous day. The most valuable of the deer-skins was the

black-tail, which realised, at a price per lb., 11s. This hide is used

for making a very superior quality of glove, much prized in California.

I strolled over to the camp of the two partners one morning, as I was on

the way to shoot, and I found them engaged in arranging their vast

masses of skins, all of which were neatly folded up, perfectly dry,

without any other preparation than exposure to the keen dry air of this

high altitude.

Upon my inquiry of Big Bill respecting his operations on the previous

day, he replied that he "guessed he had been occupied in running away

from the biggest grizzly bear that ever was cubbed."

Big Bill was a Swede by parentage, born in the States. By trade he was a

carpenter, but he had of late years taken to skin-hunting. He was an

enormous fellow, about 6 feet 3 or 4, with huge shoulders and long

muscular arms and hands. There was no harm in Bill; he was a first-rate

shot with his .450 Sharp rifle, which appeared to be the weapon in

general favour; but he had met with an adventure during the previous

year which made him rather suspicious of strangers.

Somewhere, not far from his present camp, a mounted stranger dropped in

late one evening. The man was riding a good horse, but was quite alone;

so also was Big Bill. The camp of the skin-hunter was then the same in

appearance as when I saw him and his partner Bob Stewart--simplicity

itself; a long spruce pole was lashed at either end to two spruce firs;

against this, leaning at an angle of about 45 degrees, were sixty or

seventy straight poles laid close together, and upon these were arranged

spruce boughs to form a thatch. This lean-to provided a tolerable

shelter within the forest, when the wind was sufficiently considerate to

blow at the back against the thatch, instead of direct towards the open

face. The ground in the acute angle was strewed with branches of spruce,

and a large fire was kept burning during night, exactly in front, the

whole arrangement exhibiting the principle of a Dutch oven.

In such a camp, Big Bill received the stranger with the hospitality of

the wilderness, and they laid themselves down to rest in the close

companionship of newly-made friends.

The morning broke, and as Big Bill rubbed his eyes with mute

astonishment, he could not see his friend. He rose from his

sleeping-place, and went outside in the cold morning air; he could not

see his horses. A horrible suspicion seized upon him; he searched the

immediate neighbourhood; the animals had vanished, both horses and mules

were gone, together with the unknown stranger, to whom he had given food

and shelter for the night.

Fortunately there was a particular horse which Big Bill for special

reasons kept separate from the rest; this animal was picqueted by itself

among the spruce firs at some little distance, and had been unobserved

by the departed stranger. To saddle the horse, and to follow in pursuit

at the highest speed upon the trail of the horse-stealer, was the work

of only a few minutes. The track was plain enough in the morning dew,

where ten or a dozen mules and horses had brushed through the low

prairie grass. Big Bill went at a gallop, and he knew that he must

quickly overtake them; his only doubt lay in the suspicion that there

might be confederates, and that a strong party might have joined

together to secure the prize, instead of the solitary stranger being in

charge. However, at all hazards he pushed on at best speed in chase; at

the same time, the horse-stealer, thoroughly experienced in his

profession, was driving his ill-gotten herd before him at a gentle trot,

thoroughly convinced that it would be impossible to be overtaken, as the

owner had been left (as he supposed) without a horse.

At length, after a pursuit of some hours, upon attaining the summit of a

broad eminence, Big Bill's eyes were gladdened by the sight of some

distant objects moving upon the horizon, and he at once redoubled his

speed.

The stranger, innocent of suspicion, trotted leisurely forward,

whistling, and driving his newly acquired animals with professional

composure, without condescending to look back, as he felt certain of

security, having left his hospitable friend of the preceding night with

nothing better than his own legs for locomotion.

In the meantime, Big Bill was coming up at a gallop; he was boiling with

indignation at the treacherous conduct of his uninvited guest; and being

fully alive to the manners and customs of the West, he placed his Sharp

rifle upon full-cock to be in readiness for an explanation.

A few minutes sufficed to shorten the distance to 100 yards, when the

astonished horse-stealer was surprised by the sound of hoofs upon the

stony soil, and, turning round, he was almost immediately confronted

with the threatening figure of Big Bill. The dialogue which ensued has

not been historically described; there was none of the bombast that

generally preceded the combats of Grecian heroes; but it appears that

the horse-stealer's right hand instinctively grasped the handle of his

revolver, not unseen by the vigilant eyes of Big Bill, who with

praiseworthy decision sent a bullet through his adversary's chest from

the already prepared Sharp .450; leaving the lifeless body where it

fell, he not only recovered all his stolen animals, but also possessed

himself of the horse and saddle which only recently belonged to the

prairie horse-stealer without a name.

The gigantic Swede returned to his solitary camp, well satisfied with

his morning's work, as he had gained instead of losing, and he had saved

the State of Wyoming the expense and trouble of hanging a man for a

crime which is supposed to deserve no mercy, that of "horse-stealing."

Of course this instance of determination and extreme vigilance gained

for Big Bill the admiration of the extremely limited number of people

who would be called "the public" in the outlying portions of Wyoming;

but although contented with himself, Big Bill was always suspicious of a

solitary stranger, as he had an undefined idea that some relative of the

defunct horse-dealer might draw a trigger upon him unawares. It was this

redoubtable Big Bill who now confided to me that he had been running

away from some monster grizzly bear only on the preceding day. He

pointed out the spot, as nearly as possible, from where we stood during

his narrative. "There," he said, "do you see that low rocky cliff on the

tip top of the hill just above us? That was the place just beneath, on

that little terrace-like projection with a few spruce firs upon it.

There's a steep but not a difficult way down by the side of that cliff,

and when young Edmund and I got down upon that terrace, there were a lot

of big rocks lying about, and all of a sudden one of 'em stood up on end

within 10 yards of me, and sat up regularly smiling at me, with the most

innocent and amiable expression of countenance I ever saw. That was the

biggest grizzly bear I ever came across; he was as big as the biggest

bull I ever saw in the ranche, and there he was, sitting up on end like

a dog, and almost laughing. There was no laugh in me, I can tell you; I

just lost no time, but turned round, and hooked it; and I don't think I

ever ran so fast in all my life."

"But why did you not shoot him?" I exclaimed with astonishment. "Shoot

him? Oh yes, that's very likely, when he wasn't farther than 10 yards

off, and I should have had such a poor start, and no place to run to!

No, I knew better than that, with a single-barrel Sharp .450. If I had

had your double-barrel .577, with a big solid bullet, and 6 drams of

powder, I shouldn't have run away; but I go hunting for skins with my

little Sharp, and I don't want a grizzly to go hunting for my skin; not

if I know it. I've left him for you, and d'ye see, if you go up there

this morning, there's some snow about, and you'll likely come across his

tracks. If you do, you'll be astonished, I can tell you."

Ten minutes after this discourse, I was on my way up the mountain side

in the hope of meeting this extraordinary bear.

Upon arrival at the summit, there was a splendid view of the main range

of the Rocky Mountains, about 70 miles distant, across a desolate region

some 4000 feet below the point upon which we stood. There was a little

snow, but only in patches on the mountain top, and, when near the

terrace upon which Big Bill had had his interview with the bear, we

certainly discovered an enormous track, the largest that I have ever

seen.

We attempted to follow this for some hours, but to no purpose; on

several occasions I could have taken deadly shots at black-tail deer and

wapiti, but I determined to reserve my bullet for the big game, the

object of our pursuit. The day passed away in failure. The next day was

equally disappointing; from morning to sunset I fagged over the summits

and the spruce fir sides of the mountains, without a trace of the big

bear. We passed the old traces that we had seen the previous day upon

the snow, but they were still more indistinct, and there was nothing

fresh. I was determined, if possible, to find this bear, therefore I

devoted a third day to the pursuit, discarding all other game. On the

third morning I started with Texas Bill and Jem Bourne, all mounted, and

we rode by a circuitous route to the summit of the hill above the valley

of our camp. The snow had melted in most places, leaving only small

half-thawed patches. We had so thoroughly explored the entire hillside

for a distance of several miles during the last two days, that I

arranged a beat on the other side of the mountain, upon the northern

slope, facing the far-distant Rocky Mountains.

There were no spruce forests upon this side, but the long incline was

merely a sheet of rough prairie grass about 18 inches high, intersected

by deep ravines, filled with dwarf cotton-wood trees, resembling the

silver-barked black poplar. These trees grew about 25 feet high, and as

thick as a man's arm, but so close together that it was difficult to

force a way through on horseback.

There were many isolated patches of this covert in various places upon

the face of this northern slope, all of which were likely to harbour

bears or other game. My eye caught instinctively a long dark ravine

which cut the mountain from top to base, extending several miles; this

was intersected about a mile and a half from the summit by a smaller

ravine, also springing from the drainage of the highest ridge, and at

the point of junction the two formed a letter Y, the tail continuing,

widened by the increased flow of water. There was at this season a very

slight stream about an inch in depth, which resulted from the melting of

the small amount of snow upon the heights.

There could not be a more likely place for bears, and I instructed my

two men to ride to the bottom of the ravine, and to force their horses

through the thornless thicket, making no other noise, but occasionally

to tap the stems of trees with the handles of their whips.

I dismounted, and my well-trained horse followed close behind me down

the steep hillside, exactly on the border of the ravine. This was not

more than 80 yards across; thus I could command both sides should a bear

break covert, when disturbed by my two beaters; there could not have

been a more favourable locality.

My men were thoroughly experienced, and the noise made by the horses in

struggling over stones and in rustling through the cotton-wood trees was

quite sufficient to disturb any animals that might have been there;

accordingly they seldom tapped the tree-stems.

Black-tail deer were very plentiful; these were about the size of an

ordinary fallow-deer, and they were extremely fat and delicious venison;

but their horns were still in velvet, and would not be clean until

October. I could have shot several of these animals; but I was full of

good resolutions to resist all temptation, and to restrict my shooting

to the long-sought bear.

We had followed the course of the ravine for about a mile, when I

suddenly heard a tremendous rush among the cotton trees beneath me on

the right, followed by excited shouts--"Look out! look out! A bear! a

bear!"

I halted immediately, and in a few seconds three splendid wapiti stags

broke covert about 100 yards before me, and at full gallop passed across

the open ground by which I was descending. My good resolutions crowded

upon me as I instinctively aimed at the stag with the finest head, and I

resisted the temptation nobly until they were nearly out of sight,

passing down a hollow on my left about 150 yards distant. Somehow or

other I pulled the trigger; a cloud of dust suddenly arose from the spot

where the three stags had disappeared, and I felt sure that the wapiti

was down.

At the sound of the shot my men struggled up the steep ascent and joined

me. "Why did you shout 'A bear! a bear!'?" I asked.--"It was a bear,

wasn't it? I saw a great brown rump for a moment, and I thought it was

the bear."--"No bear at all," I answered, "and I have been fool enough

to shoot at a wapiti. . . . I think you will find it just in the hollow

beneath the ridge."

The men rode to the spot, and sure enough a magnificent stag was lying

dead, shot through the shoulder. A wapiti stag weighs about 900 lbs.

when fat in August and September. The fat upon the brisket of this

animal was 5 inches thick, and that upon the rump and loins was nearly 3

inches. We cut this off in one complete piece, and when cold, within

half an hour it stood up like a cuirass. This was one of the finest that

I ever saw, and we took the trouble to cut up all the choicest joints,

and concealed them in the branches of a species of yew that was growing

upon the edge of the ravine. The delay from my folly in taking this shot

exceeded an hour, but the head of the stag was a handsome specimen, and

we placed it upon a large boulder of rock, to be sent for upon a future

occasion.

We again recommenced our search, comforting ourselves with the

reflection that "if the bear was in the ravine, the report of the shot

would not affect it; and if it was not in the ravine, it would not

matter."

As we continued the descent of the mountain slope, the ravine grew

wider, and it was now quite 100 yards across; this would increase the

probability of finding game, as there was a larger area of covert at the

bottom. I was walking carefully in front of my horse, when, without any

alarm given by my men from the bottom of the ravine, my attention was

attracted by a rushing sound in the dense cotton trees, and I observed

several that were in the thickest part shaking in an extraordinary

manner, as though an elephant or a rhinoceros was rubbing itself against

the stems.

I ran forward towards the spot, and within 15 paces of me I saw a wapiti

stag caught by the horns; these were completely entangled among the

stems of the thickly growing trees, and the splendid beast was taken

prisoner. I could only see occasionally a portion of the horns, and

then, as it struggled to escape, I caught sight for a moment of a head

and neck sufficient to prove that it was a very splendid beast, with

beautiful spreading antlers. The animal was almost within my grasp, and

I could have shot it with a pistol; but my good resolutions stood firm.

I refused the shot, as we had meat of the finest quality that would keep

for a week, and to kill another wapiti would be mere waste of life. In a

couple of minutes occupied with this human reflection, yet sorely

tempted to take the shot, the stag broke loose, and I heard it crashing

full speed down the ravine, and my men shouting loudly that I should

"look out!"

Hardly two minutes elapsed before I saw, at about 300 yards' distance,

the most magnificent stag that I have ever seen. This splendid beast

issued from the ravine, and exhibited a pair of antlers that, large as

the animal was, appeared quite disproportioned to its size. They

resembled the wintry appearance of a large branch from an oak tree, and

this was the prize which I could not distinctly see when entangled in

the cotton-wood, within my grasp. This noble stag descended the mountain

side at full speed, and I watched it with longing eyes until it was

completely out of sight, fully determined that I would never indulge in

good resolutions again, that humanity was humbug, philanthropy puerile,

and that the rule of success depended upon the principle "Never lose an

opportunity."

I was fairly disgusted with myself, and calling my men, I described to

them the magnificence of my lost stag. Instead of consolation they said,

"Well, if you're come all this way to shoot, and you won't shoot, I

don't quite see the use of your coming." That was all I received as a

reward for having spared an animal's life which I did not wish to

sacrifice wantonly.

"All right; go back and drive the covert to the end; you may depend upon

it I'll take the next shot, whatever it may be." The men rode down the

steep sides of the ravine, and we recommenced our beat.

Nothing moved for some time, and I mounted my horse as we were

approaching the junction of the smaller ravine on my left, which formed

the letter Y. I was about 100 yards ahead of my two men, and I descended

into the stony depression, crossed the little stream, and ascended the

opposite side with some little difficulty, as it was extremely steep,

and, together with my 12 lb. rifle, cartridges, and a 26 lb. Mexican

saddle, I rode about 18 stone. We reached the top, from which I could

look down into the larger ravine on my right, and the lesser on my left,

but a number of large rocks, 3 or 4 feet in height, and others of

smaller size, made it difficult for my horse to thread his way. Just at

this moment I heard the report of a revolver and shouts in high

excitement--"The bear! the bear!" Before I had time to dismount in the

awkward position among the rocks, I saw a large bear within two yards of

me, as he had run at full speed up the steep bank from the bottom of the

ravine without having observed me, owing to the rocks; he therefore

passed close to my horse upon the other side, only separated from us by

the large rock between. In an instant the bear, having seen the horse,

turned to the left, and dashed down hill into the smaller ravine which I

had just crossed. I jumped off my horse, and ran along the edge, ready

to take a shot the moment that I could obtain a clear view of the bear,

which I could see indistinctly as it ran along the bottom of the

channel, in which was the trickling stream. As I followed, always

keeping the animal within view, I felt certain that it would presently

forsake this narrow gully, and would cut across the open to regain the

large ravine from which it had been dislodged. I therefore raised the

150 yards sight as I ran along the edge, to be in readiness should it

try the open. The bear kept me running at my best to keep it in sight,

and I was just beginning to think it advisable to fire through the

intervening bushes, when, as I had expected, it suddenly turned to the

left, ran up the bank with extreme activity, and appeared upon the steep

open grass-land, with the intention of cutting across to the larger

hiding-place. This was a splendid chance, as the dark colour of the bear

looked well upon the yellow grass. I made a most satisfactory shot with

the .577 at 150 yards, the bullet passing through the kidneys, and the

bear rolled over and over the whole way down the steep grassy hill,

until stopped by the thick bushes, which alone prevented it from rolling

into the streamlet at the bottom.

My two men came galloping up, and shortly dismounted, and we all

descended to the place where the bear was lying, almost dead. In fact,

it died while we were standing over it.

"Well done; that was a fine shot, and we've got the grizzly bear at

last," exclaimed Jem Bourne. "THE bear? This is not the bear that Big

Bill ran from," I replied; "impossible, this is a silver-tip, and not a

true grizzly." The argument that ensued over the carcase of that bear

was quite enough to make me an unbeliever in the ordinary accounts of

native hunters. I calculated that the body weighed about 600 lbs., as my

two men were 6 feet high, and exceedingly powerful, and our united

efforts could not move the bear one inch from the spot where it had

fallen; it may have exceeded that weight, as it was full of fat, and in

the finest condition. We skinned it, and had some trouble to induce the

horse to permit the hide to be lashed upon its back. Although a fine

bear, Big Bill on our return would not acknowledge that it could be

compared with the monster which he had seen with such "a smiling

countenance." I was quite of his opinion, as the tracks which I saw in

the snow were very much larger than the paws of the bear that I have

described.

The foot of a bear leaves a print very similar to that of a human being

who happens to be flatfooted, but the breadth is larger in proportion to

that of a man. It is a curious fact, that a shot through the kidneys of

any creature occasions almost instantaneous death, and the animal falls

immediately, as though shot through the neck; this proves the terrible

shock to the system, as the body is smitten with a total paralysis.

The opinions of professional hunters differ in such an extraordinary

manner upon the question of bears, that it would be impossible for a

mere visitor to arrive at a satisfactory decision. It is admitted by all

that the grizzly bear is the monarch; next to him in size is the

cinnamon bear, named from the colour of its fur; No. 3 is the

silver-tipped; and No. 4 is the black bear.

The question to be decided remains: "Is the cinnamon bear the grizzly,

with some local difference in colour?" My people called the

silver-tipped bears "grizzlies," which was an evident absurdity; but, as

they were men experienced in the Big Horn range, it was difficult to

disbelieve their evidence concerning the occasional presence of a true

grizzly. I found, whilst riding through an extensive forest of spruce

fir, an enormous skull of a bear, the largest that I have ever seen,

except that of the grizzly, compared with which all others were mere

babies; what could this have been, unless a true specimen of that

variety?

There can be little doubt that bears of different kinds intermingle

occasionally by cross breeds, and many are met with which do not exactly

correspond with the colouring which distinguishes the varieties already

mentioned; but in my opinion those distinct varieties actually exist,

and any departure occasioned by cross breeding is simply an accident.

Eighteen months before my visit to the Big Horn range, the present Lord

Lonsdale, together with a large party, was hunting upon the same ground,

and at that time the country, being new to British sportsmen, was

undisturbed. The bears were so numerous and unsophisticated that the

party bagged thirty-two, and game of all kinds indigenous to the

locality was in the superlative. It is astonishing that any game remains

after the persistent attacks of gunners, especially in such countries,

where open plains expose the animals to the sight of man. In the Big

Horn range, at high altitudes of from 8000 to 12,000 feet, the open

grass prairie-ground predominates. There are plateaux and hill-tops;

deep canyons or clefts, from 1500 to 2000 feet sheer, like sudden rifts

in the earth's surface; long secluded valleys, with forest-covered

bottoms extending for many miles, and slopes of every conceivable

gradient descending to a lower level of frightfully broken ground,

joining the foot of the main range of Rocky Mountains at a distance of

from 70 to 90 miles. There are also isolated patches of cotton-wood upon

the sides of slopes, which afford excellent covert for deer and bears.

The actual width from margin to margin of the high land does not exceed

26 miles, although the length may be 100. It may readily be imagined

that a month's shooting upon this area would be sufficient to scare the

animals from the neighbourhood, more especially as the hunters are

invariably on horseback, and traverse great distances each day.

When I was there we very seldom found bears upon the open, as they

retired to the obscurity of the forests before break of day. Bob Stewart

assured me that two seasons ago it was impossible to ride out in the

early morning without seeing bears, but he counted up a long reckoning

of seventy-two killed since the visit of Lord Lonsdale's party. This

must have sensibly diminished the stock, and have afforded considerable

experience to the survivors. Nevertheless upon several occasions bears

exhibited themselves during broad daylight without being sought for.

We were tired of nothing but venison in every shape, and although the

German cook, "little Henry," was a good fellow, he could not manage to

change the menu without other provisions in the larder. I accordingly

devoted myself one afternoon to shooting "sage-hens"; this is a species

of grouse about the size of a domestic fowl, and, when young, there is

nothing better. The old birds are not only tough, but they taste too

strongly of sage, from subsisting upon the buds and young shoots of the

wild plant. They were very numerous in certain localities, having much

the same habits as the black game of North Britain, therefore we knew at

once where to seek them.

Our camp was within a few feet of the little stream, just within the

forest at the bottom of the valley; the dense mass of spruce firs

extended for 8 or 10 miles along the slopes, only broken at intervals by

gaps a few hundred yards wide, which divided the forest from top to

base, and formed admirable places for ascending to the great plateau on

the summit. This plateau extended for several miles, and was nearly

level, the surface being liberally strewed with stones about 2 feet in

length, but exceedingly flat, as though prepared for roofing slates;

these had been turned over incessantly by the bears, in search for what

Bob Stewart called "bugs"--the general and comprehensive American name

for every insect.

We found a number of sage-hens upon this plateau, and I picked out the

young ones with my rabbit rifle, as they ran upon the sage-covered

ground. Texas Bill was soon loaded with game, and discarding the old

birds that had been killed by mistake, we descended the grass-covered

gap between the forests, and returned direct to camp. Little Henry had

now a change of materials for our dinner.

It was nearly dusk, and I went into the small tent to have a hot bath

after the day's work. I was just drying myself, after the operation of

washing, when I heard an excited voice shout "Bears! bears!" It was

useless for me to ask questions through the canvas, therefore I hurried

on my clothes and ran out.

Texas Bill was gone. It appeared that two large bears had been seen as

they came along the glen, and turned up the open slope, by which we had

descended after shooting the sage-hens. My best horse had not been

unsaddled, as the evening was chilly; therefore Texas Bill had

immediately jumped into the saddle, and was off in full pursuit.

"What rifle did he take?" I inquired of little Henry. "He didn't take

any rifle, but he's got his six-shooter, which is much better in his

hands, as he knows it," was the reply.

There was very little light remaining, and with the long start which the

bears obtained, I could not think that Bill would have the slightest

chance of overhauling them before they reached the forest; this they

would assuredly attempt, the instant they saw themselves pursued. If

Bill could only get them upon the open plateau on the summit, he might

be able to manage them, but with a gallop up a steep hill to commence

with, in the late dusk of evening, the odds were decidedly against him.

It became dark, and we expected Bill's return every minute. Jem Bourne,

my head man, who was always a grumbler, and exceedingly jealous, began

to ventilate his feelings. "A pretty fool he's made of himself to go

galloping after bears in a dark night, and nothing but a six-shooter!

. . . A nice thing for our best horse to break his legs over those big

rocks that nobody can see at night. . . . Well, he'll have to sleep out,

and he'll find it pretty cold before the morning, I know. . . . What

business he's got to take that horse without permission, beats me

hollow!"

This sort of muttered growling was disturbed by two shots in quick

succession, far up, above the summit of the forest. There could be no

doubt that Bill had overhauled the bears.

By this time it was quite dark, and we drew our own conclusions from the

two pistol shots, the unanimous decision being that Bill had fired in

the hope of turning the bears when entering the forest; but what chance

had he in the dark, and single-handed?

I did not take much interest in such a hopeless chase, but I was anxious

about the horse, as the country was so rough that it would be most

difficult to pick a way through holes and rocks, to say nothing of

fallen trees, which, even during daylight, required consideration.

We piled immense pine-logs upon the fire, in addition to bundles of

spruce branches; these made a blaze 20 feet high, and would form a

beacon as a guide in the dark night.

I had taken the time by my watch when we heard the two shots upon the

mountain top; twenty minutes had passed, and my lips were almost numbed

by whistling with my fingers as a signal that could be heard during a

calm night at a great distance. Suddenly this signal appeared to be

answered by a shot, from a totally different direction from the first

that we had heard; then, quickly, another shot; followed in irregular

succession, until we had counted six. "His six-shooter's empty now, but

he's got plenty of cartridges in his belt," exclaimed little Henry, the

cook.

What was the object of these shots? He could not have followed the bears

that distance in the dark, as his position was quite a mile from the

spot where he had first fired; and he was now, as nearly as we could

imagine, above a rocky cliff which bordered a grassy gap that would

enable him to descend into our valley; he would then find his way

parallel with the stream direct to our camp.

My men wished to fire some shots in response, but I declined to permit

this disturbance of the neighbourhood, as it would have effectually

driven all animals from the locality; we merely piled logs upon the

fire, which could be seen from the heights at a great distance, and we

waited in anxious expectation.

Nearly an hour passed away without any further sign. Bill could not have

fired those six shots in succession to attract our attention, as it

would have been a needless waste of ammunition: if he had expected a

response to a signal, he would have fired a single shot, to be followed

by another some minutes later. We now considered that he might have

severely wounded the bear by the first two shots that we had heard, and

that he had followed the beast up in some extraordinary manner, and at

length discovered it.

We were about to give up all hope of his return, and knowing that he, as

a smoker, was never without a supply of matches, we expected to see the

glare of a distant fire, by which he would sit up throughout the night,

when presently we heard the sound of whistling, and the clatter of a

horse's feet among the stones of the brook, within 150 yards of our

position.

In a couple of minutes Texas Bill appeared, leading the horse, which was

covered with dry foam. In one hand he held a large bloody mass; this was

the liver of a bear!

"Well done, Bill!" we all exclaimed, except the sulky Jem Bourne, who

only muttered, "A pretty state you've brought that horse to; why, I

shouldn't have known him."

The story was now told by the modest Bill, who did not imagine that he

had done anything to excite admiration. This was his account of the hunt

in the dark: "Well, you see, when the two bears were going up the open

slope, down which you and I came, after shooting the sage-hens, all I

could do was to gallop after them, to keep them from getting into the

forest; when of course they would have been gone for ever. One of them

did make a rush, and passed across me before I could stop him, and I

didn't mind this, as I couldn't have managed two. I got in front of the

other, and cracked my whip at him, and at last I got him well in the

open on the big plateau, where we shot the sage-hens. He got savage now,

and was determined to push by me and gain the forest; but I rode right

at him, and seeing that I couldn't stop him, I fired my six-shooter to

turn him, just as he made a dash at the horse. He made another rush at

the horse, and I turned him with another shot, within a couple of paces'

distance. This made him take off in a new direction, and he tried to

cross the big plateau, intending, no doubt, to get to the forest a

couple of miles away on the pointed hill. It was so dark that I could

hardly see him, and my only chance was to ride round him, and work him

till he should stand quiet enough to let me take a steady shot.

"He went on, sometimes here, sometimes there, and at last he changed his

mind, and seeing that he couldn't get away from the horse across the

open, he turned, and made for the 10 mile forest. It was as much as I

could do to drive him, by shouting and cracking my whip whenever I

headed him; if I had only once let him get out of sight, I should never

have seen him again. The ground is full of stones, as you know, which

bothered the horse in turning quickly; but we went on, sometimes full

gallop straight away, at other times dancing round and round, until at

last the old bear got regularly tuckered-out, and he was so done he

could hardly move. There he was, with his tongue hanging out of his

mouth, standing, panting and blowing, and my horse wasn't much better, I

can tell you. Well, I was drawn up as close to him as though I was going

to strike him, and he was so completely done there wasn't any fight in

him; my horse's flanks were heaving in such a way that I could hardly

load the two chambers that I had fired. I was determined to have all my

six shots ready before I began to fire, and it was just lucky that I

did, for I'm blessed if I could kill him. There he stood, regularly

exhausted-like, and he took shot after shot, and never seemed to notice,

or to care for anything. At last I almost touched him, when I fired my

sixth cartridge between his shoulders, and he dropped stone dead. That's

all that happened, and I thought you wouldn't believe me if I came back

without a proof; so I cut him open, and took out his liver to show you;

and here it is."

Although this fine fellow thought nothing of his achievement, I

considered it to be the most extraordinary feat of horsemanship that I

had ever heard of, combined with wonderful determination. In the

darkness of night, without a moon, to hunt single-handed, and to kill, a

full-grown bear with a revolver, was in my experience an unprecedented

triumph in shikar.

Early on the following morning I sent for the bear's skin. It proved to

be a large silver-tipped, and a close examination exhibited the

difficulties of the encounter during darkness.

Eight shots had been fired from the commencement, to the termination by

the last fatal bullet; but, although Texas Bill was an excellent shot

with his revolver, he had missed seven times, and the eighth was the

only bullet that struck the bear. This had entered between the shoulders

vertically, proving the correctness of his description, as he must have

shot directly downwards. The bullet had passed through the centre of the

heart, and had escaped near the brisket, having penetrated completely

through this formidable animal.

Upon my return to England I immediately purchased a similar revolver of

Messrs. Colt and Co.---the long frontier pistol, .450 bullet.

Although bears were scarce, we occasionally met them unexpectedly. As a

rule, I took Jem Bourne and Texas Bill out shooting, the man Gaylord had

to look after the twelve or thirteen animals, and little Henry, the

German cook, was left in camp to assist my wife. Upon one of these

rather dull days the camp was enlivened by the visit of three large

bears. These creatures emerged from the neighbouring jungle, and

commenced a search for food within 50 yards of the camp, only separated

by a narrow streamlet of 10 feet in width. For about twenty minutes they

were busily engaged in working up the ground like pigs, in search of

roots or worms; in this manner they amused themselves harmlessly, until

they suddenly observed that they were watched, after which they

retreated to the forest.

My acquaintance Bob Stewart assured me that the bears had become so shy,

that the only way to succeed was to "jump a bear." This term was

explained as follows: you were to ride through forest, until you came

across the fresh track of a bear; you were then to follow it up on foot,

until you should arrive at the secluded spot where the bear slept during

the daytime, in the recesses of the forest. It would of course jump out

of its bed when disturbed, and this was termed "jumping a bear." Of

course you incurred the chance of the animal's attack, when thus

suddenly intruded upon at close quarters.

I agreed to start with Bob upon such an excursion; but I found that this

kind of sport was more adapted for his light weight than my own, and

that his moccasins were far superior to my boots, for running along the

stems of fallen spruce trees at all kinds of angles, and for jumping

from one prostrate trunk to another, in a squirrel-like fashion, more in

harmony with a man of 9 stone than one of 15. We started together, Bob

mounted upon his little mare, while I rode my best horse, "Buckskin,"

who was trained, like many of these useful animals, to stand alone, and

graze, without moving away from his position for hours; should it be

necessary to dismount, and leave him. The horses thus tutored are

invaluable for shooting purposes, as it is frequently necessary to stalk

an animal on foot; in which case, the bridle is simply arranged by

drawing the reins over the head, and throwing them in his front, to fall

upon the ground before his fore-feet. When thus managed, the horse will

feed, but he will never move away from his position, and he will wait

for hours for the return of his master.

We rode about four miles without seeing a living creature, except a

badger. This animal squatted upon seeing the horses, and lay close to

the ground like a hare in form, until we actually halted within 10 feet

of its position. Bob immediately suggested that we should kill it, and

secure its skin (his one idea appeared to be a longing to divest

everything of its hide); but I would not halt, as the day was to be

devoted to bears. We at length arrived at a portion of the forest where

the young spruce had grown up from a space that had formerly been burnt;

about 50 acres were densely covered with bright green foliage, forming a

pleasing contrast to the sombre hue of the older forest. This was

considered by my guide to be a likely retreat for bears; it was as thick

as possible for trees to grow.

We accordingly dismounted, threw the reins over our horses' heads, and,

taking the right direction of the wind, we entered the main forest,

which was connected with the younger growth. It was easy to distinguish

tracks, as the earth was covered with old half-rotten pine needles,

which formed a soft surface, that would receive a deep impression.

Nearly all the old trees were more or less barked by the horns of

wapiti, showing that immense numbers must visit these woods at the

season when the horns are nearly hard, and require rubbing, to clean

them from the velvet. We had not strolled more than half a mile through

the dark wood when Bob suddenly halted, and, like Robinson Crusoe, he

appeared startled by the signs of a footstep deeply imprinted in the

soil. It was uncommonly like a large and peculiarly broad human foot,

but there was no doubt it was a most recent track of a bear, and the

direction taken would lead towards the dense young spruce that we had

already seen. We followed the track, until we at length arrived at the

bright green thicket, in which we felt sure the bear must be lying down.

This was an exceedingly awkward place, and Bob assured me that if he

were alone, he should decline to enter such a forest, as it was

impossible to see a yard ahead, and a bear might spring upon you before

you knew that it was near. As I had a double-barrelled powerful rifle, I

of course went first, followed by Bob close behind. As noiselessly as

possible, we pushed through the elastic branches, and very slowly

followed the track, which was now more difficult to distinguish, owing

to the close proximity of the young trees that overshadowed the surface

of the ground.

In this manner we had advanced about a quarter of a mile, when a sudden

rush was made exactly in my front, the young trees were roughly shaken,

and I jumped forward immediately, to meet or to follow the animal,

before I could determine what it really was. Something between a short

roar and a grunt proclaimed it to be a bear, and I pushed on as fast as

I could through the opposing branches; I could neither see nor hear

anything.

Bob Stewart now joined me. "That's no good," he exclaimed, "you

shouldn't run forward when you hear the rush of a bear, but jump on one

side, as I did. Supposing that bear had come straight at you; why, he'd

a been on the top of you before you could have got your rifle up. True,

you've got a double-barrel, but that's not my way of shooting bears,

although that's the way to JUMP A BEAR, which you've seen now, and you

may jump a good many before you get a shot in this kind of stuff."

I could not induce Bob to take any further trouble in pursuit, as he

assured me that it would be to no purpose: the bear when thus disturbed

would go straight away, and might not halt for several miles.

This was a disappointment; we therefore sought our horses, which we

found quietly grazing in the place that we expected. Remounting, we rode

slowly through the great mass of spruce firs, which I had named the "10

mile forest."

There was very little underwood beyond a few young spruce here and

there, and we could see from 80 to 100 yards in every direction.

Presently we came across an enormous skull, which Bob immediately

examined, and handed it to me, suggesting that I should preserve it as a

specimen. He declared this to be the skull of a true grizzly; but some

of the teeth were missing, and as I seldom collect anything that I have

not myself shot or taken a part in shooting, I declined the head,

although it was double the size of anything I had experienced.

The forest was peculiarly dark, and the earth was so soft from the

decaying pine needles, that our horses made no noise, unless when

occasionally their hoofs struck against the brittle branches of a fallen

tree. We were thus riding, always keeping a bright look-out, when Bob

(who was leading) suddenly sprang from his mare, and as quick as

lightning fired at a black-tail buck, that was standing about 80 yards

upon our right. His shot had no effect; the deer, which had not before

observed us, started at the shot, and stood again, without moving more

than three or four yards. Bob had reloaded his Sharp like magic, and he

fired another shot, hitting it through the neck, as it was gazing

directly towards us; it fell dead, without moving a foot.

We rode up to the buck; it was in beautiful condition, but the horns

were in velvet, and were useless. I now watched with admiration the

wonderful dexterity with which Bob, as a professional skin-hunter,

divested this buck of its hide. It appeared to me that I could hardly

take off my own clothes (if I were to commence with my greatcoat)

quicker than he ripped off the skin from this beautiful beast. With very

little delay, the hide was neatly folded up, and secured to the Mexican

saddle by the long leathern thongs, which form portions of that

excellent invention.

Bob remounted his mare, with the skin strapped behind the cantle, like a

military valise; and we continued on our way. "That was a quick shot,

Bob."--"Yes, 2 1/2 dollars, or 2 dollars at least I'll get for that

skin; you see there's no game that pays us like the black-tail, and I

never let one go if I can help it; they're easy to shoot, easy to skin,

easy to dry, and easy to sell at a good price, and more than that,

they're handy to pack upon a mule."

That little incident having passed, we again relapsed into silence, and

rode slowly forward, with a wide-awake look-out on every side.

We had ridden about a mile, when the fresh tracks of bears that had

crossed our route caused a sudden halt, and we immediately dismounted to

examine them. They were of average size, and there could be no doubt,

from the short stride of each pace, that they were retiring leisurely,

after a night's ramble, to the beds in which they usually laid up. We

led our horses to a small glade of good grass that was not far distant,

and left them in the usual manner.

We now commenced tracking, which was simple enough, as the heavy

footprints were distinct, and the bears had been travelling tolerably

straight towards home. At length, after nearly a mile of this easy work,

we arrived at a portion of the forest where some hurricane must in

former years have levelled several hundred acres. The trees were lying

about in confused heaps, piled in many places one upon the other, in the

greatest confusion. None of them were absolutely rotten, but the

branches were exceedingly brittle, and, if broken, they snapped like a

pistol shot, making a noiseless advance most difficult. Through this

chaos of fallen timber the young spruce had grown with extreme vigour,

and I never experienced greater difficulty in making my way than in this

tangled and obdurate mass of long trunks of gnarled trees, and branches

lying at every angle, intergrown with the green boughs of younger

spruce.

Bob Stewart wore moccasins, and being exceedingly light and active, he

ran up each sloping treestem for 40 or 50 feet, then dropped nimbly to

another fallen trunk below, bobbed under a mass of heavy timber, like

masts in a shipbuilder's yard, supported as they had chanced to fall,

and then dived underneath all sorts of obstructions. He was followed

admiringly, but slowly, by myself, not provided with moccasins, but in

high riding boots. If I had been a squirrel, I might perhaps have beaten

Bob, but after several hundred yards of this horrible entanglement,

which might have been peopled by all the bears in Wyoming, we arrived at

a small grassy swamp in the bottom of a hollow, just beneath a great

mass of perpendicular rock, about 70 or 80 feet in height. In the centre

of this hollow was a pool of water, about 8 feet by 6. This had been

disturbed so recently by some large animal, that the mud was still

curling in dusky rings, showing that the bath had only just been

vacated. We halted, and examined this attentively. The edges of the

little pool were wet with the drip from the bear's shaggy coat, as it

had left the water.

Bob whispered to me, "Look sharp, there are bears here, more than one I

think, and if they've heard us, they'll be somewhere alongside this rock

I reckon, or maybe up above." We crept along, and beneath the fallen

timber; but it was so dark, owing to the great number of young spruce

which had pushed their way upwards, that a dozen bear might have moved

without our seeing one.

We now arrived at a small open space, about 20 feet square; this was a

delightful change from the darkness and obstructions: The ground in this

spot was a deep mass of pine needles, and in this soft material there

were three or four round depressions, quite smooth, and about 18 inches

deep; these were the beds of bears, where in undisturbed solitude they

were in the habit of sleeping after their nocturnal rambles.

I was of opinion that we had disturbed our game, as several times we had

accidentally broken a dead branch, with a loud report, when clambering

through the abominable route. However, we crept forward round the base

of the rock, and arrived in the darkest and thickest place that we had

hitherto experienced.

At this moment we heard a sharp report, as a dead branch snapped

immediately in our front. For an instant I saw a large black shadow

apparently walking along the trunk of a fallen pine. I could not see the

sight of my rifle in the deep gloom, but I fired, and was answered by a

short growl and a momentary crash among the branches.

We ran forward with difficulty, but no bear was to be seen. We searched

everywhere, but in vain. I came to the conclusion that the game was

hardly worth the candle.

Through several hours we worked hard, but did not find another bear; and

it was past five o'clock when we arrived at our camp, after a long day's

work, in which we had certainly "jumped" two bears, but had not

succeeded in bagging one.

Texas Bill came to hold my horse upon our arrival; he was looking rather

shy, and ill-at-ease. "What's the matter, Bill? anything gone wrong?" I

asked.

"Well," he replied, "I hope you won't blame me, as I don't think it

right, but you know where you killed a wapiti a couple of days ago, and

we found the next morning that the bears had been and buried it; and you

said we'd better leave the place quiet for a day, and then you'd go

early in the morning, and perhaps find the bears upon the spot? Well,

after you were gone with Bob this morning, Jem Bourne proposed that we

should go and have a look at the place, and sure enough when we got

there we found a great big bear fast asleep, lying on the top of the

buried wapiti, and her two half-grown cubs asleep with her. So Jem had

your Martini-Henry with him, and he killed the mother stone dead,

through the shoulder. Up gets one of the young ones, and hits his

brother (or sister) such a whack in the eye with his paw that it just

made me laugh, and then he cuffs him again over the head, just as though

it was his fault that the mother was knocked over. Jem had reloaded, so

he put a bullet through this young fellow; and then putting in another

cartridge, he floored the third, and they were all dead in less than a

minute. It's a fine rifle is that Martini-Henry, but I think you'll be

displeased, as we had no business to go nigh the place; it ain't my

fault, and I wouldn't have done it myself, you may be sure."

This was a glorious triumph for the jealous Jem Bourne, who was highly

offended at my having adopted the advice, and sought the assistance of

Bob Stewart, to "jump a bear." We had returned as failures, and he had

killed three bears with my rifle, within my sanctuary, which I had

specially arranged for a visit upon the following day. He declared "that

nobody should stop him from killing bears, as his right was just as good

as mine." This poaching upon my preserves was rather too much for my

patience, therefore without any discussion or angry words I gave him a

note to carry 42 miles' distance on the following morning to a friend of

mine at the second ranche. "What horse shall I ride ?" asked the fellow

sullenly. "The white mule," I replied. "When am I to come back ?"--"Not

till I send for you," was the answer; and Jem Bourne ceased to be a

member of our party.

This was an excellent example, as many of these people are exceedingly

independent, and although he received high wages (120 dollars monthly,

in addition to his food, and a horse to ride), he considered that he was

quite the equal of his employer. Although my other men received only

half these wages, they were more useful, and after this dismissal we

were far more comfortable.

It was a strange study of the Far West in these outlandish and utterly

uninhabited districts. When looking down from the summit of the

mountains, facing north, we were positively certain that for more than

100 miles in a direct line there was not a human habitation, and the

nearest point of embryo civilisation was the Government Park on the

Yellowstone river, at least 150 miles distant. In our rear we were 80

miles from the abandoned station of Powder River, with only two ranches

in the interval. It may be readily imagined that the laws of civilised

communities were difficult to administer in such a wilderness.

The nearest railway station was "Rock Creek," about 240 miles, upon the

Union Pacific, from whence we had originally started; that point is

about 7000 feet above the sea-level. A curious contrivance, slung upon

leather straps instead of springs, represents a coach, which, drawn by

four horses, plies to Fort Fetterman, 90 miles distant. During this

prairie journey the horses are only changed twice.

There are no dwellings to be seen throughout the undulating mass of wild

grass; this possesses extraordinary properties for fattening cattle, and

wild animals; but after a weary drive along a track worn by wheels and

other traffic, and occasionally well defined by empty tins that had

contained preserved provisions, a small speck is seen upon the horizon,

which is declared to be the station for spare horses.

Upon arrival at this cheerless abode we entered a small log-house,

containing two rooms and a kitchen; but the cooking was conducted in the

public room, an apartment about 13 feet square, with a useful kind of

stove in one corner. The man who represented the establishment had of

course observed the coach in the far distance, therefore he was not

startled by the arrival of our party, which consisted of the Hon.

Charles Ellis, Lady Baker, and myself. He had already begun to fry bacon

in a huge frying-pan upon the little stove, and he had opened some large

tins of preserved vegetables, in addition to another containing some

kind of animal hardly to be distinguished. He had been successful that

morning, having killed an antelope; therefore we had quite an

entertainment in this log-hut, so far away from the great world.

The table was spread with a very dirty cloth, and our small party was

immediately augmented by the arrival of the coachman (our driver), the

man who looked after the horses, an outside passenger of questionable

respectability, and our host, who had just cooked the bacon. It was an

unexceptional fashion throughout the country to reduce all clothing to a

minimum. Coats were unknown during the summer months (this was the

middle of August); waistcoats were despised; and the costume of the

period consisted of a flannel shirt, and a pair of trousers sustained by

a belt in lieu of braces. Attached to this belt was the omnipresent

six-shooter in its holster. I was the only person who possessed, or at

all events exhibited, a coat; and I felt that peculiar and unhappy

sensation of being over-dressed, which I feared might be mistaken for

pride by our unsophisticated companions.

We were not a cheery party; on the contrary, everybody appeared to be so

determined not to say the wrong thing, that they remained silent; the

dullness of the meal was only broken at long intervals by such carefully

expressed sentiments as "I'll trouble you to pass the salt, if you

please," or "Will you kindly hand the bacon ?"

There was no vulgarity in this, and we were afterwards informed that

these rough people, who, as a rule, season their conversation with the

pepper of profanity, are painfully sensitive to the presence of a lady,

before whom they are upon their P's and Q's of propriety; and, should an

improper expression escape their lips in an unguarded moment, they would

be in a state of deep depression from the keenest remorse, which might

perhaps cause a sense of unhappiness for at least five minutes. They

most sensibly refrained altogether from conversation in a lady's

presence, to avoid the possibility of a "slip of the tongue."

If they could have left their perfume behind, together with the

profanity, our table would have been sweeter; but the flannel shirts

were seldom washed, to prevent shrinking, just as their owners seldom

spoke, to avoid swearing; an overpowering smell of horses was emitted by

the driver, and of stables by the ostler, while the proprietor exhaled

the mixed but indescribable odours combined from his various duties,

such as cooking, cleaning up, sleeping in his clothes, and never washing

them.

The meal over, we again started. This stage was interesting, as we left

the treeless expanse of prairie, and drove over highland through

picturesque forests of spruce firs among rocks and canyons. About 20

miles of this scenery was passed; then we descended a long slope, and

once more emerged upon the dreary, treeless prospect.

At the end of 35 miles another speck was seen, which eventually turned

out to be a station similar to that at which we had halted in the

morning. There were two pretty-looking and clean girls here; they had

come to assist their brother, who "ran" the house. It was curious to

observe the little evidences of civilisation which the presence of these

girls had introduced. At first sight, among a rude community, I should

have had strong misgivings concerning the security of young girls

without a mother; but, on the contrary, I was assured that no man would

ever presume to insult a respectable woman, and the girls were safer

here than they would be at New York. It was a doughtful anomaly in a

society which otherwise was exceedingly brutal, that a good woman

possessed a civilising power which gained the respect of her rough

surroundings, and, by an unpretentious charm, softened both speech and

morals.

It was to be regretted that this benign influence could not have been

extended to the vermin. When the lamp was extinguished, the bed was

alive. I always marvelled at the phrase, "he took up his bed and

walked," but if the bugs had been unanimous, they could have walked off

with the bed without a miracle. Sleeping was impossible. I relighted the

paraffin lamp, a retreat was evidently sounded, and the enemy retired.

Presently an explosion took place--the lamp had gone wrong, and burst,

fortunately without setting the place on fire. An advance was sounded,

and the enemy came on, determined upon victory.

I never slept in one of those prairie stations again, but we preferred a

camp sheet and good blankets on the sage-bush, with the sky for a

ceiling.

On arrival at Fort Fetterman, 90 miles from Rock Creek station, the

coach drew up at a loghouse of greater pretensions than those upon the

prairie. I had letters of introduction from General McDowell (who was

Commander-in-Chief of the Pacific Coast) to Colonel Gentry, who

commanded Fort Fetterman, and Major Powell of the same station.

Not wishing to drive up to the door of his private house, we alighted at

the log-hut which represented the inn. The room was horridly dirty, the

floor was sanded, and there was a peculiar smell of bad drink, and an

expression of depravity about the establishment.

The host was a tall man, attired as usual in a flannel shirt and

trousers, with a belt and revolver. He had evidently observed an

expression of disgust upon our faces, as he exclaimed, "Well, I guess we

ain't fixed up for ladies; and p'r'aps it's as well that you came to-day

instead of last night, if you ain't fond of shooting affairs. You were

just looking at that table and thinking the tablecover was a bit dirty,

weren't you? Well, last night Dick and Bill got to words over their

cards, and before Dick could get out his six-shooter, young Bill was too

quick and resolute, and he put two bullets through him just across this

table, and he fell over it on his face, and never spoke a word. It's a

good job too that Dick's got it at last."

This little incident was quite in harmony with the appearance of the

den. I knew that letters had been previously forwarded from San

Francisco to the Commandant, therefore I strolled towards his quarters,

to leave my card and letter of introduction.

Fort Fetterman is not a fort, but merely an open station, with a

frontier guard of one company of troops. I met Colonel Gentry, who was,

very kindly, on his way towards the inn to meet us on arrival. Upon my

inquiring respecting the fatal quarrel across the table, he informed me

that he had held an inquest, and buried the man that morning.

The deceased was a notorious character, and he would assuredly have shot

his younger antagonist, had he not been the quicker of the two in

drawing his pistol.

This was a satisfactory termination to a dispute concerning cards, and

there was a total absence of any false sentiment upon the part of the

commonsense authority.

We were most hospitably entertained by Major and Mrs. Powell, to whose

kind care we were committed by Colonel Gentry, who, being a bachelor,

had no accommodation for ladies. It was very delightful, in the centre

of a prairie wilderness, to meet with ladies, and to hear the rich

contralto voice of Miss Powell, their daughter of eighteen, who promised

to be a singer much above the average.

On the following morning we started for Powder River, 92 miles from Fort

Fetterman; there was no public conveyance, as Powder River station had

been abandoned since the Indians had been driven back, and confined to

their reservation lands. We were bound by invitation to the cattle

ranche of Mr. R. Frewen and his brother Mr. Moreton Frewen; these

gentlemen had an establishment at Powder River, although their house was

22 miles distant upon the other side, in the centre of their ranche.

They had very kindly sent a four-wheeled open carriage for us; one of

those conveyances that are generally known as American waggons, with

enormously high wheels of cobweb-like transparency. Jem Bourne had been

sent as our conductor, having been engaged as my head man.

There was nothing but prairie throughout this uninteresting journey,

enlivened now and then by a few antelopes.

Castle Frewen, as the superior log building was facetiously called by

the Americans, was 212 miles from Rock Creek station, and we were well

pleased upon arrival to accept their thoroughly appreciated hospitality.

Their house had an upper floor, and a staircase rising from a hall, the

walls of which were boarded, but were ornamented with heads and horns of

a variety of wild animals; these were in excellent harmony with the

style of the surroundings. Here we had the additional advantage of a

kind and most charming hostess in Mrs. Moreton Frewen, in whose society

it seemed impossible to believe that we were so remote from what the

world calls civilisation. There was a private telephone, 22 miles in

length, to the station at Powder River, and the springing of the alarm

every quarter of an hour throughout the day was a sufficient proof of

the attention necessary to conduct the affairs successfully at that

distance from the place of business.

Our kind friends afforded us every possible assistance for the

arrangements that were necessary, and we regarded with admiration the

energy and perseverance they exhibited in working with their own hands,

and in KNOWING HOW TO USE THEIR OWN HANDS, in the absence of such

assistance as would be considered necessary in civilised countries.

There were about 8000 head of cattle upon the Frewens' ranche, all of

which were in excellent condition. It was beyond my province to enter

upon the question of successful ranching, but the Americans confided to

me that the prairie grass, instead of benefiting by the pasturing of

cattle, became exhausted, and that weeds usurped the place of the grass,

which disappeared; therefore it would follow that a given area, that

would support 10,000 head of cattle at the present time, would in a few

years only support half that number. It might therefore be inferred that

the process of deterioration would ultimately result in the loss of

pasturage, and the necessary diminution in the herds.

From the Frewens' ranche, a ride of 25 miles along the course of the

Powder river brought us to the last verge of civilisation; the utmost

limit of the cattle ranches was owned by very nice young people, Mr. and

Mrs. Peters, Americans, and Mr. Alston, an English partner.

We had been hospitably received by these charming young settlers, whose

rough log-house was in the last stage of completion, and I fear we must

have caused them great personal inconvenience.

On the following morning we started for the wilds of the Big Horn, and

crossing the Powder river, we at once commenced the steep ascent, for a

steady pull of 4000 feet above the dell in which the house was situated.

We left them, with the promise to pay them a few days' visit on our

return.

It was then that we quickly discovered the peculiarities of our four

attendants, whom I had expected to be examples of stern hardihood, that

would represent the fabled reputation of the backwoodsman.

Although they were fine fellows in a certain way, they astonished me by

their luxurious habits. In a country that abounded with game, I should

have expected to exist upon the produce of the rifle, as I had done so

frequently during many years' experience of rough life. A barrel of

biscuits, a few pounds of bacon, and a good supply of coffee would have

been sufficient for a crowned head who was fond of shooting, especially

in a country where every kind of animal was fat. My men did not view

this picture of happiness in the same light; they required coffee,

sugar, an immense supply of bacon, an oven for baking bread, flour,

baking-powder, preserved apples (dried), ditto peaches, ditto

blackberries, together with the necessaries of pepper, salt, etc.

It was always my custom to drink a pint of cafe au lait and to eat some

toast and butter at about 6 A.M. before starting for our day's work;

after this I never thought of food throughout the day, until my return

in the evening, which was generally at five or six o'clock.

My people were never ready in the morning, but were invariably squatted

in front of the frying-pan, frizzling bacon, when I was prepared to

start. Jem Bourne was a chronic grumbler because we hunted far away from

camp, instead of returning at mid-day to luncheon. Excellent fresh bread

was baked daily, and I insisted upon the people supplying themselves

with sufficient food packed upon their saddles, if they were not hardy

enough for a day's work after a good breakfast.

I observed that my friends Big Bill and Bob Stewart were also provided

with a large supply of bacon, although they left the fattest animals

rotting in the forest, simply because they hunted for the hides.

In the same manner I remarked the extreme fastidiousness of these

otherwise hardy people in rejecting food which we should have considered

delicious. I have seen them repeatedly throw away the sage-hens that I

have shot; these were birds which we prized. On one occasion, as we were

travelling when moving camp, I shot a jackass rabbit from the saddle,

with my .577 rifle. It gave me considerable trouble to dismount and open

this animal, which would have gained a prize for fat; having cleaned it

most carefully, I stuffed the inside with grass, and attached it to the

saddle. We never had an opportunity of eating this splendid specimen; on

inquiring, the cook had thrown it away, "because at this season jackass

rabbits fed upon sage shoots, and the flesh tasted of sage!

As we shall return to the Big Horn range when treating upon the habits

of wapiti and other animals, I shall now refer to the Indian bears, and

commence with the most spiteful of the species, Ursus labiatus.