Cries of "Gammon!" "Don't believe it!" "Where's the bear?"

"If you want to see the bear, you must go up into the woods. I

couldn't bring him down alone."

Having satisfied the household that something extraordinary had

occurred, and excited the posthumous fear of some of them for my own

safety, I went down into the valley to get help. The great bear-

hunter, who keeps one of the summer boarding-houses, received my

story with a smile of incredulity; and the incredulity spread to the

other inhabitants and to the boarders as soon as the story was known.

However, as I insisted in all soberness, and offered to lead them to

the bear, a party of forty or fifty people at last started off with

me to bring the bear in. Nobody believed there was any bear in the

case; but everybody who could get a gun carried one; and we went into

the woods armed with guns, pistols, pitchforks, and sticks, against

all contingencies or surprises,--a crowd made up mostly of scoffers

and jeerers.

But when I led the way to the fatal spot, and pointed out the bear,

lying peacefully wrapped in his own skin, something like terror

seized the boarders, and genuine excitement the natives. It was a

no-mistake bear, by George! and the hero of the fight well, I will

not insist upon that. But what a procession that was, carrying the

bear home! and what a congregation, was speedily gathered in the

valley to see the bear! Our best preacher up there never drew

anything like it on Sunday.

And I must say that my particular friends, who were sportsmen,

behaved very well, on the whole. They didn't deny that it was a

bear, although they said it was small for a bear. Mr... Deane, who

is equally good with a rifle and a rod, admitted that it was a very

fair shot. He is probably the best salmon fisher in the United

States, and he is an equally good hunter. I suppose there is no

person in America who is more desirous to kill a moose than he. But

he needlessly remarked, after he had examined the wound in the bear,

that he had seen that kind of a shot made by a cow's horn.

This sort of talk affected me not. When I went to sleep that night,

my last delicious thought was, "I've killed a bear!"

The Complete Writings of Charles Dudley Warner — Volume 3 · 第 7 / 63 题