The Worcester spy. [volume] (Worcester, Mass.) 1898-1904, 1898-10-23
A BEAR.
The w I. a J, Bet
ty Killed 1t.
A THRILLING TALE
Of a Young Woman's Brave
Act.

Betty's my wife. = l want to tell you
how she killed bear 1t happened
while we were up in New Hampshire
on a hunting trip. say ''we." be-
cause my wife's always my companion
in the field, and why shouldn't she be?
She enjoys the excitement of the hunt,
the pure air and nature beauties. The
exercise brings the color to her cheeks
and added vigor to her step. The sport
gives her elf-control. quickness of
thought and confidence; makes her
more of a woman in every way; more
lowing, sympathetic and interested-a
better wife, People think it strange,
but that doesn't matter They ask her
if she isn't afraid of accident, and the
timid women think She must be hard
hearted to kill a squirrel or bird
Her mother and my mother bid us tear
full adieus each fall as we leave, that
are pitiful to behold; but in spite of all
the obstacles, each year we find new
pleasures in our trip to the woods The
winter months pass quickly in a reverie
of our celebrating experiences and the
not, sultry days of summer are bear
lble because of the anticipation of the
Oming vacation in the fail among the
fountains. The very thought brings
the memories back on the hottest days
and we seem to catch breath of the
crisp, cool air, laden with the odor of
pine and hemlock; we seem to see the
hillsides glowing with color
We have our little kennel of dogs, a
brace of pointers and a rabbit hound
and their presence gives life a new
meaning. The summer resort with its
crowds, heat, excitement, hotel fare,
superficial landlord and endless dress
ing has faded into oblivion; and i'm its
place we see only the quiet, cozy little
farmhouse with it's open fire-place the
plain, wholesome food and our big
hearted farmer host who welcomes us
as if we were children, and says:
Good bye, God bless yer" with tears
in his eyes when we leave.
We have a little cabinet in which We
keep our hunting truck. There's a To-
gauge double barreled hammerless for
my wife, and heavy 10gauge for my
self q like a heavy gum, not to men
tion belts, bags and rough, comfort
able clothes When we get a little
blue, all we need to do is to open the
door and glance inside; perhaps take
out a gun and look it over fondly or
try on hunting jacket.
AS the time for our little outing
draws near, we find almost childish en-
joyment in loading shells with "fours"
and skies" and Fights" And when
it's all over and we are back home,
there may be a tinge of sadness for a
little time and we may sit and day
dream good deal; but it soon passes
away and becomes delightful memory
that makes the burdens of life lighter
and its worries mere trifles.
But, I am wandering from my story.
started to tell how Betty killed a
bear-brave girl? Our retreat is way
UP in New Hampshire-no matter
where The rugged mountain sides are
covered with great oaks in which the
tfmid gray squirrel hides, partridges
scurry through the covers on the foot
hills, in the swamp lands fleet-footeG
hares abound and water fowl swarm
to the little lakes that nestle among
the hills and reflect the pale blue
mountains that rise into the distant sky
in all directions. And if one cares for
it, there's plenty of large game-deer
bear. foxes and coons. While we came
principally for birds, rabbits and squir-
rels. previous experience had taught us
that it was best to go prepared for
larger game. One evening handsome
buck came down to the edge of the
pond as we We're waiting for ducks,
and stood knee-deep in water with head
eT6Cl, MY ydIuS vi. w Hat q picture
he made against the dark woods with
the last glow of twilight striking him!
We had nothing but "fours'' and there
was an unutterable pang of regret
when he turned and stalked majestic
ally back into the woods. What tro-
ply that head and antlers would have
beeni After that we had buckshot
cartridges With us regularly. Bears
were frequently seen, and they were the
one thing my wife dreaded, She used
to ask me what to do in case she saw
one, and naturally, | told her to put
a buckshot cartridge in the gun and let
him have it. When she referred to the
possibility of the brutes attacking her
| assured her that | was usually close
at hand, and a cry would bring me
to her side. She only shuddered a lit
tie in response, but still looked a bit
determined
Late one afternoon our trip for birds
brought us around close to a familiar
clump of oaks on the mountain side,
and it occurred to me that we might
try a little twilight shooting for grays
/ called in the dogs, fastened them to
sapling and we orept cautiously into
the woods. The oaks We're high up on
the mountain and in many places rose
from amongst masses Of boulders, piled
up in fantastic shapes, leaving great,
dark caverns- underneath. Betty took
a position near the corner of an old
stone wall and / moved down to the
right some distance. AS we waited, the
sun sank lower and lower, and finally
dropped behind a distant clump Of
trees. Gloom pervaded the woods. Il
was painfully still. Not a sound was
heard save occasionally the far off
ttnkle Of a COW bell or the faint bark