The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1893-09-28

in camp, as on the day before some
animal had visited our quarters, eaten
a lot of bacon and played havoc geLer-
ally with supplies. There had been a
good deal of chatting about the bald
face, and Pennington had grown tired
of warning us of the danger of an en-
counter. However, as we left camp the
old trapper shouted out, as he whistled
to his dogs and walked away: Say,
Kingsbury, if you see bald-face ad-
wise you to make a break for the mule
and light out for the valley; for if you
don't we'll never collect enough of the
remains to ship back to the folks at
home"
The mule referred to was staked out
about one hundred yards away in level
clear spot. The Englshman didn't re-
ply, but held up his rife and big
hunting knife as an answer.
We thought nothing more of the cir
cumstance. The days sport was fairly
good, one deer, one mountain sheep
and several birds being the result of
the hunt. We met at an agreed spot
some three miles from the camp and
proceeded together to our quarters, ex-
pecting that Kingsbury would have
prepared for us a substantial dinner.
Reaching an elevation some distance
from camp we paused moment, when
Pennington remarked; by gosh,
where's the mule?' We all looked, but
no mule could we see. Possibly it had
broken away and gone off, or it might
be hidden in the grass, lying down, but
a field-glass failed to reveal the animal.
Proceeding slowly toward camp, we
soon reached the space where the mule
had been left.
There was no longer any question
where the mule was. 1t was lying on
the ground completely disemboweled,
it's back broken and its head literally
torn off.
One word told the story. A bald
face bear had discovered the animal,
and it being hobbled so securely that
escape was impossible, had killed it.
The grass showed that there had been
Il struggle, and the immense tracks of
the bear were plainly seen. It's marks
on the back and side of the mule looked
as if cleaver had been at work.
Three ribs were torn away from the
backbone and one hind leg almost
stripped of its flesh. An ak in the
hands of giant could have done no
better.
With our guns ready to fire ON the
instant we all noiselessly crossed over
to the camp only to find it vacant.
Kingsbury's Winchester lay on the
ground some little distance away, the
kettles, pans and camp fixtures were
knocked about as if a cyclone had
struck them, the tent was thrown to
the ground and across it We're the
bloody tracks Of bear. To my ex-
cited Imagination they looked as large
as bushel measure, and I could al
most see the flying form of our camp
keeper and the pursuing terror of the
mountains.
Kingsbury was nowhere to be seen.
Everything was perfectly quiet But
we knew that the trouble had been re-
cent, because the blood still oozed from
the neck of the dead mule, and there
was fire at the camp not nearly burned
out
Meanwhile a shot from Blake's rifle
rang through the forest and it's rever.
berations had scarcely died away when
the voice of Kingsbury gave answer
faint and long distance off. The dogs
were away in a moment and the yells of
our partner at intervals mingled with
the tongue of the dogs.
Better load up your belts with shell
and get up in these little trees, boys"
said Pennington, "for that animal will
be back here powerful soon."
We were so excited that no second
suggestion was required. We could
tell by the cry of the dogs when they
reached the scene of action, and in
little time they quit barking. A few
minutes later the pup came tearing
through the brush, followed by noise
which greatly resembled an immense
bowlder bounding down hill.
Look outr' yelled Pennington, and
a half second later the bald-face burst
through the underground not one hun
dred feet away. His face was bloody.
L ~ IHi 1do 1dlLC1 VIZ
Tins to his fury and he came on foam
ing towards us. A volley attracted his
attention and with a roar he rushed at
the small trees in which we were stand
ing. | think but one shot hit him, for
the rifles were mighty shaky. "Give
it to him." said Pennington. Don't
waste your fire, take fair aim at him,
and don't pull the trigger till you can
land
No fury could equal the rage of that
brute. 1t came at the small trees,
tried to climb them, tore the bark and
snapped them with a mouth which
looked yard long. In the excitement
of the moment l dropped my rifle
while shifting my position, and as it
struck the ground twenty feet below
the brute ran and seized it at the butt,
crunching the stock like piece of clay
or glass.
The attack became perfect fusillade,
and perhaps a hundred shots were fired
before the bear gave signs of weaken
ing. One of it's monster legs was
broken and its sides were plowed with
bullets. Risdon, who, by the way, came