He
would accordingly climb the tree (a practice of which I do not approve
however); and the bear would look up at him and pass on without
stopping. Once, when he was hunting in the mountains with a companion,
the latter, who was down in a valley, while Woody was on the hill-side,
shot at a bear. The first thing Woody knew the wounded grisly, running
up-hill, was almost on him from behind. As he turned it seized his rifle
in its jaws. He wrenched the rifle round, while the bear still gripped
it, and pulled trigger, sending a bullet into its shoulder; whereupon it
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.
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