Tombstone epitaph., 1891-02-22
FUULlNG A GRIZZLY. !
Parson Honeyfoot's Adventure in
 the Mountains.
His Shins Were Skinned, But Bruin Didn't Succeed in Making Meal of the Pious Man-Queer Antics of
 Tall Sapling.

"I never put myself up as much of a bear-killer," said Mr. Gleason, rather
 better known as "Old George" of Cor mans Station, Los Angeles County. to a San Francisco Examiner man. ''As matter of fact, during the twenty-five years that I've been fooling around the mountains it has been my practice to let lem alone if they let me alone, and if they don't let me alone to climb tree and let 'em get tired.
 "But there was one time that broke my rule. I have roasted with the fly catchers more than one night rather than get into muss with bear, and l never thought it was my business to in- terfere when somebody else was doing the roasting, except this once. It was about twelve years ago, and Parson Honeyfoot was preaching around these parts, first in one camp and then in another, usual y winding up here at Gorm ans on Sum days, when all the boys would come in from the camps and mines after their mail. was coming down from the Frazier mountain one Sunday morning, and saw right ahead of me on the trail great big grizzly. He was across the canyon from me, and as he seemed to be going right ahead about his own busi- ness, just sat down and waited half an hour to give him chance to get out of my way. Just about the time was ready to move on there was smashing in the brush where had last seen the big bear, and the blue burro the parson always used to ride came tearing and praying down the trail. I knew him by his having only one ear. He lost the other fooling around buzz up on the Sawmill mountain. I waited to see what he was running from, but nothing came, and pretty soon logged on. I was kind of anxious about the parson and kept my eye out for him. After little heard his voice shouting down in a gulch of the trail, and right away found where the bears track turned of.
 eff it had been anybody but the par son I'd have gone right on, but it seemed kind of low down to shake preacher that way, so I took off through the brush in the direction of the noise. It was just about as nasty place to tackle a bear as you would want. Nothing but thick manzanita and chaparral that made travelling mighty slow and hardly a tree in range that a man could climb. All the smaller trees had been burned off in some of the mountain fires years before, and now there were only some little thin saplings that had come up since the fire, and big old oaks and bull pines that had come out of the fire only scorched.
 Pretty soon I saw the bear. He was chasing around sapling, occasionally stopping to claw at the tree and shake it. From the upper branches of the tree came the calls for help, and pretty soon I made out Parson Honeyfoot clinging to the tree away up among the leaves, yelling and praying.
 "Well, you ought to have seen that bear shake around that tree. Every minute I expected to see the parson let go and come a-tumblin', but he held on, though his coat-tails Tapped and snapped around like the lash of coach- whip. I guess the grizzly kept trying for fifteen minutes, then he seemed to give up the scheme and lay down growl- ing to think up new one. It took him about five minutes to get new idea, but when he did he went about carry ing it out with rush. He just got hold of that sapling as high as he could hang his whole weight on it and bent the tree over little, then he began to back away, changing his grip hand over hand. Of course, every step he took backward brought the top of the tree lower, and began to try for sight be- hind the grizzly's ear.
 "Still the bear kept backing, and Parson Honeyfoot was almost to the ground. I cooked my rife and took rest over my knee, because it wouldn't do to miss in such place as that.
 "Just as l was about to fire the old grizzly turned his head and saw the par son just behind him. He was so close that the bear simply let go and made grab.
 "The tree, released from his weight, flew up, and the bear simply got leg of the parsons trousers, and the tree went up like catapult-that's what they called it, didn't they?
 "It shot the parson out ahead like boy shoots stone from springy shingle. I saw him sail across the arroyo with his coat tails spread like birds tail. He landed fair in the branches of big pine, forty feet from the ground, and thirty yards from the sapling.
 That saved him. The bear was dis gusted, but he went to the pine and started to watch and I climbed up into the sapling and from there pumped lead into him so fast that he soon curled up.
 "The parsons shins were skinned, but he wasn't hurt much. He couldn't stand the country, though, and went away. He gave me the one-eared burro and he's packing my grub and blankets