He was in Harvard when I was, but
left it and, like a good many other Harvard men of that time, took to
cow-punching in the West. He went on a ranch in Rio Arriba County, New
Mexico, and was a keen hunter, especially fond of the chase of cougar,
bear, and elk. One day while riding a stony mountain trail he saw a
grisly cub watching him from the chaparral above, and he dismounted to
try to capture it; his rifle was a 40-90 Sharp's. Just as he neared the
cub, he heard a growl and caught a glimpse of the old she, and he at
once turned up-hill, and stood under some tall, quaking aspens. From
this spot he fired at and wounded the she, then seventy yards off; and
she charged furiously. He hit her again, but as she kept coming like a
thunderbolt he climbed hastily up the aspen, dragging his gun with
him, as it had a strap. When the bear reached the foot of the aspen she
reared, and bit and clawed the slender trunk, shaking it for a moment,
and he shot her through the eye. Off she sprang for a few yards, and
then spun round a dozen times, as if dazed or partially stunned; for the
bullet had not touched the brain.
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