This, then, is the tale of Grizzley Bob, who mined in Snake Gulch at the
foot of Bear Mountain.

"The bear made straight for me! Old Bull-doze was hangin' onto him
below, somewhere, but I dropped my Killer (gun) and grabbed my knife,
'cause I knew if I didn't get in on him with Slasher it was all up with
both of us. Bear and I took a tight grip on each other and I hit
straight for his heart just as he gave me a swipe in the face.

"We both fell, the bear on top, and then I didn't remember anything for
awhile. When I woke I felt something heavy on my stomach, but I couldn't
see anything for blood."

"Hu-ray!" cheered old Solly Jake, thinking the tale was finished.

Sick Jimmy, from behind the bar, prodded him good-humoredly.

"Dry up, Soll."

"I am dry," whimpered old Soll, "I'm dryer'n before I got drunk!"

"Here, then," pushing a bottle across the redwood slab used for a bar,
"the drinks are on Grizzley Bob and Handsome Harry, tonight."

"Was it such a big strike they made?"

"It sure was. Go on, Bob," he called to the tall, magnificently built
young spokesman, "then what?"