We have had no luck with the bear; but we have killed as many deer as
we needed for meat, and the hounds caught a wildcat. Our camp is as
comfortable as possible, and we have great camp fires at night.
One of the bear-hunting planters with me told me he once saw a bear,
when overtaken by the hounds, lie down flat on its back with all its
legs stretched out, while the dogs barked furiously all around it.
Suddenly the bear sat up with a jump, and frightened all the dogs so
that they nearly turned back somersaults.
At this camp there is a nice tame pussy-cat which lies out here all the
time, catching birds, mice, or lizards; but very friendly with any party
of hunters which happens along.
P. S.--I have just killed a bear; I have written Kermit about it.
The Bear Plays Dead.
The Bear Sits Up.