struck him with its paw, and knocked him over the rocks. By good luck
he fell in a snow bank and was not hurt in the least. Meanwhile the bear
went on and they never got it.

Once he had an experience with a bear which showed a very curious
mixture of rashness and cowardice. He and a companion were camped in a
little tepee or wigwam, with a bright fire in front of it, lighting up
the night. There was an inch of snow on the ground. Just after they went
to bed a grisly came close to camp. Their dog rushed out and they could
hear it bark round in the darkness for nearly an hour; then the bear
drove it off and came right into camp. It went close to the fire,
picking up the scraps of meat and bread, pulled a haunch of venison down
from a tree, and passed and repassed in front of the tepee, paying no
heed whatever to the two men, who crouched in the doorway talking to one
another. Once it passed so close that Woody could almost have touched
it. Finally his companion fired into it, and off it ran, badly wounded,
without an attempt at retaliation. Next morning they followed its tracks
in the snow, and found it a quarter or a mile away. It was near a pine
and had buried itself under the loose earth, pine needles, and snow;
Woody's companion almost walked over it, and putting his rifle to its
ear blew out its brains.

In all his experience Woody had personally seen but four men who were
badly mauled by bears. Three of these were merely wounded. One was
bitten terribly in the back. Another had an arm partially chewed off.
The third was a man named George Dow, and the accident happened to him
on the Yellowstone about the year 1878. He was with a pack animal at the
time, leading it on a trail through a wood. Seeing a big she-bear with
cubs he yelled at her; whereat she ran away, but only to cache her cubs,
and in a minute, having hidden them, came racing back at him. His pack