are born," and we looked up the canyon, and there was something
coming, as big as a load of hay, with bristles sticking up a foot
high on its back, and its mouth was open, and it was loping right
towards pa. Gee, but I was proud of pa, to see him sharpening his
knife on his boot leg, but when the great animal got within about
a block of pa, the great father seemed to have a streak of yellow,
for he dropped his knife and yelled: "Git, Ephraim," in a loud
voice, but Ephraim came right along, and didn't git with any
great suddenness. When the bear got within about four doors of
Pa, he saw the great father, and stood up on his hind legs, and
looked as big as a brewery horse, and he opened his mouth and
said: "Woof," just like that. That was too much for my Pa, who
began to shuck his clothes, and then started on a run towards the
mouth of the canyon. The bear looked around as much as to say:
"Well, what do you think of that?" and we watched Pa sprinting
toward the Indian camp like a scared wolf.

[Illustration: The Grilly Looked as Big as a Brewery Horse.]

The big game hunter put a few bullets in the bear where they
would do the most good, and killed it, and we went down in the
canyon and skinned it, and took the meat and hide to camp, where
we found Pa under a bed in a squaw's tepee, making grand hailing
signs of distress, and trying to tell them about his killing a
bear by letting it run after him, so it would tire itself out and
die of heart failure.

When we found Pa he had come out from under the bed, and was
looking at the hide of the bear to find the place where he hit it
with the knife, as he said he could see that the only chance for