The Press. (Stafford Springs, Conn.) 1883-1935, 1901-08-15
BILL CROSS AND
HIS PET BEAR.
BY JOAQUIN MILLER.

When my father settled down at the
foot Of the Oregon sierras with his lit
tie family long, long years ago, it was
40 miles from our place to the nearest
civilized settlement.
People were very scarce in those
days and bears were very plenty. We
also had wolves, wildcats, wild cattle,
wild hogs and good many long tailed
and big headed yellow California lions
The wild cattle, brought there from
Spanish Mexico, next to the bear were
most to be feared. They had long,
sharp horns and keen, sharp hoofs. Ma
ture had gradually helped them out
in these weapons Of defense. They
had grown to be slim and trim of body
and were as supple and swift as deer
They were the deadly enemies of all
wild beasts, because all wild beasts
devoured their young.
When fat and saucy, in warm sum-
mer weather, these cattle would hover
along the foothills in bands, hiding
in the hollows, and would begin to
below whenever they saw a bear or
wolf or even a man or boy, if on foot,
crossing the wide valley of grass and
blue camas blossoms. Then there
would be music! They would start up,
with head and tails in the air, and
broadening out left and right they
would draw long, bent line, complete
~ shutting off their victim from all
approach to the foothills.
If the unfortunate victim were a
man or boy on foot, he generally made
escape up one Of the small ash trees
that dotted the valley in groves here
and there, and the cattle would then
soon give up the chase. But if it were
wolf or any other wild beast that
could not get up a tree the case was
different. Far away on the other side
Of the valley, where dense woods lined
the banks of the winding Willamette
river, the wild, believing herd would
be answered. Out from the edge of the
woods would stream right and left two
long, corresponding, surging lines, bel
lowing and plunging forward now and
then, their heads to the ground, their
tails always in the air and their eyes
afiame, as If they would set fire to the
and discipline of a we'll ordered army
they would close in upon the wild
beast, too terrified now to either fight
or fly, and, leaping upon him one after
another with their long hoofs, he would
In little time be crushed into an I'M
recognizable mass. Not a bone would
be left unbrOken. 1t Is a mistake to
suppose that they ever use their long,
sharp horns in attack. These were
used only in defense, the same as elk
or deer, falling on the knees and re-
ceiving the enemy on their horns, much
as the Old Guard received the enemy
In the last terrible struggle at Water
loo.
Bill Cross was "tenderfOOt" at the
time of which l write, and sailor at
that. Now, the old pilgrims who had
dared the plains in those days of 40,
when towards did not venture and the
weak died on the way, had not the
greatest respect for the courage or en-
durance of those who had reached Ore
gon by ship. But here was this man, a
sailor by trade, settling down in the
interior of Oregon and, strangely
enough, pretending to know more about
everything in general and bears in par
ticular than either my father or any of
his boys.
He had taken up a piece of land
down in the pretty Camas valley,
where the grass grew long and strong
and waved in the wind, mobile and
beautiful as the mobile sea.
The good natured and self compla-
cent old sailor liked to watch the way
ing grass. 1t reminded him of the sea,
l reckon. He would sometimes sit on
our little porch as the sun went down
and tell us boys strange, wild sea sto-
ries. He had travelled far and seen
much, as much as any man can see on
water, and maybe was not a very big
liar, for a sailor, after all. The only
thing about him that we did not like
outside of his chronic idleness was his
exalted opinion Of himself and his I'M
concealed contempt for everybody's
opinion but his own.
'Bill." said my father one day, "those
black Spanish cattle will get after that
red sash and sailor jacket of yours
some day when you go down in the val
ley to yOUH claim, and they won't leave
a grease spot. Better go horseback or
at least take a gun when you go down
next time"
"Pshaw! Squire, l wish had as
many dollars as amt afeard of all the
black Spanish cattle in Oregon. Why,
If they're SO blasted dangerous how did
your missionaries ever manage to drive
them up here from Mexico, anyhow
Still, for all that, the very next time
that he saw the old sailor setting out
at his snail pace for his ranch below,
slow and indolent as If on the deck Of
ship, my father insisted that he
should go on horseback or at least take
a gun.
"Pooh. pooh! l wouldn't be bothered
with horse or gun. Say, I'm goin to
bring your boys pet bear some day."
And so, cooking his little hat down
over his right eye and thrusting his big
hands into his deep pockets almost to
the elbows, he slowly and lazily whis-
tied himself down the gradual slope of
the foothills, waist deep in the waving
grass and delicious wild flowers, and
soon was lost to sight in the great Wav-
ing sea.
Two things may be here written
down. He wouldn't ride horse, be-
cause he couldn't, and for the same
reason he wouldn't use a gun. Again,
let it be written down also that the rea-
son he was going away that warm au-
tumn afternoon was that there was
some work to do. These facts were
clear to my kind and indulgent father,
but of course we boys never thought of
1t and laid our little shoulders to the
hard work of helping father lift up the
long, heavy poles that were to complete
the corral around our pioneer log cabin,
and we really hoped and haf believed
that he might bring home a little pet
bear.
This stout log corral had become an
absolute necessity. 1t was high and