At 10 A.M. we halted for lunch, and after the meal the men lay down
in the willows to sleep. I tried to sleep too, but could not. The
Susan River had been so rough and hard to travel, and this river
was so big, and deep, and fine. The thought of what missing it two
years before had cost would not be shut out.

After a bite, at 3 P.M. we were off again, and had gone only a
little way when George exclaimed, "Who's that? Why, it's a bear."

On the farther side of the river walking along the hill was a huge
black bear. I had never before seen one anywhere but in the Zoo,
and the sight of this big fellow enjoying the freedom of his native
country gave me quite a new sensation. At first we decided not to
molest him. A full supply of provisions made it unnecessary to
secure game now, and at this time of the year the skin would be of
no value. The men sent a few rifle shots in his direction, though
not with any thought of their hitting him. They had the effect of
making him quicken his pace, however, and the trail took him up to
the top of the hill where, as he went leisurely along, his big form
clearly outlined against the sky, he proved too great a temptation.
Suddenly the canoe shot out across the river, and on the other
shore ran into the mouth of a little stream at the foot of a big
sand-hill.

Job hurried off with the rifle, and George and I followed as I was
able. We had to cross a broad belt of tangled willows, and to know
what that means, one must do it; but the prospect of at least
getting on the edge of a bear chase is great inducement when once
you become a little excited, and I scrambled through. The hill was