to account for an attack which once came to my knowledge. I was at Sand
point, on Pend'Oreille Lake, and met some French and Meti trappers, then
in town with their bales of beaver, otter, and sable. One of them, who
gave his name as Baptiste Lamoche, had his head twisted over to one
side, the result of the bite of a bear. When the accident occurred he
was out on a trapping trip with two companions. They had pitched camp
right on the shore of a cove in a little lake, and his comrades were off
fishing in a dugout or pirogue. He himself was sitting near the shore,
by a little lean-to, watching some beaver meat which was sizzling over
the dying embers. Suddenly, and without warning, a great bear, which had
crept silently up beneath the shadows of the tall evergreens, rushed at
him, with a guttural roar, and seized him before he could rise to his
feet. It grasped him with its jaws at the junction of the neck and
shoulder, making the teeth meet through bone, sinew, and muscle; and
turning, tracked off towards the forest, dragging with it the helpless
and paralyzed victim. Luckily the two men in the canoe had just paddled
round the point, in sight of, and close to, camp. The man in the bow,
seeing the plight of their comrade, seized his rifle and fired at
the bear. The bullet went through the beast's lungs, and it forthwith
dropped its prey, and running off some two hundred yards, lay down on
its side and died. The rescued man recovered full health and strength,
but never again carried his head straight.

Old hunters and mountain-men tell many stories, not only of malicious
grislies thus attacking men in camp, but also of their even dogging the
footsteps of some solitary hunter and killing him when the favorable
opportunity occurs. Most of these tales are mere fables; but it is
possible that in altogether exceptional instances they rest on a
foundation of fact. One old hunter whom I knew told me such a story. He
was a truthful old fellow and there was no doubt that he believed what