put rifle to shoulder, and Searles swung it around, pointed it by guess
and fired. The ball did little damage, but the powder flash partly
blinded the bear and it came down to all-fours and began pawing at its
eyes, giving Searles an opportunity to throw in another cartridge and
take fair aim at the head.

If Searles had not forgotten in his excitement the defect of his
weapon, the bear fight would have been ended right there. He pulled
trigger with deadly aim, but the rifle missed fire. Instead of
re-cocking the piece and trying a second snap, he worked the lever,
threw in a new cartridge and pulled the trigger. Again no explosion.
Again he failed to remember the trick of the rifle, and tried a third
cartridge, which also missed fire.

Then the bear became interested in the affair and turned upon the
hunter at close quarters. Seizing the barrel of the rifle in his jaws,
the Grizzly wrenched it from Searles's grasp, threw it aside and hurled
himself bodily upon his foe. Searles went down beneath the bear.
Placing one paw upon his breast the bear crunched the hunter's lower
jaw between his teeth, tore a mouthful of flesh from his throat and
took a third bite out of his shoulder. Then he rolled the man over,
bit into his back and went away.

The cold Californian night saved the man's life by freezing the blood
that flowed from his wounds and sealing up the torn veins. He was a
robust, hardy man, and he pulled himself together and refused to die
out there in the brush. With his jaw hanging by shreds, his wind-pipe
severed and his left arm dangling useless, he crawled to his horse, got
into the saddle and rode to camp, whence his companions took him to the
Liebra ranch house. Romulo Pico was sure Searles would die before