The Savannah morning news., 1903-12-02

surprise. McEachern was dazed by
his strange predicament, but mechani-
cally held on tight, with both hands
gripped firmly into the thick fur of
the bear.
The bear tried to turn his head and
McEachern took fresh hold by the
stubby ears to prevent this. He was
afraid that the bear would roll over,
in which event it would be all over in
a minute. but bruin seemed to have
business straight ahead, and numbered
through the woods at an alarming
rate. Over ridges and down hollows
they went, occasionally stumbling over
stumps and fallen trees and then they
came to deserted ''ramdown'
steep decline of a hill, where loggers
had cut away the growth and slid it
down to the bottom by means of mo
joe sleds. which are the tobogganS of
the woods. Here was a logging road
as steep as the roof of a house, and
down 1t the bear plunged, while Nc
Eachern thought of all his sins, and
gave UP all hope of any more spring
celebrations in Bangor. 1t looked like
sure death, for the bear would certain
~ take a tumble somewhere between
the top and the bottom, and then Nc
EaChern. if not killed in the crash,
would be torn to bits.
Suddenly it occurred to McEachern
that he had in his pocket long hunt
ing knife, presented to him few
weeks ago by a city sport, and quick
ly he fished it out, opening the blaze
with his teeth. They were now half
way down the slope, and there was
no time to lose. Raising the knife
at arms length. McEachern plunged
it into the bears neck to the handle.
A fierce snarl, gushing of hot blood
and a slight slackening of speed were
the immediate results. Another stab.
and another and the mad race was
over. The bear, his black fur Grim
soned with the stream of blood, Stun
bled, halted and, with muffted growls,
went headlong into the ditch at the
roadside. McEachern rolled off on
the safe side and got behind a tree.
The bear, although mortally hurt, was
still full of fight, and presently came
on to renew the battle. 1t was not
safe to get near enough to use the knife
again, for, weak as he was, the bear
could, with one sweep of his paw,
have knocked any fighter so far out
| that he would never come back. Nc
| Eachern looked around, thinking that
blow with a good sized stone might
do for the finishing touch, for the bear
was getting weaker all the time and
could not hold up for long. A big
Eachern waited for good chance, and
then put all his strength into the swing
of the stake. The birch landed on the
| bears nose with crack like the snap
| ping of a boomstick, and that ended
the fight, for down went the big fellow,
| groggy, and another slash with the
knife settled him.
At 4 o'clock the next morning Nc
Eachern reached camp and gave the
door kick fit to take it off the hinges
| He was tired, mad and hungry. Tired
and hungry naturally enough, and mad
because Russell had not. come in search
of him.
who's there-and is it you, John"
came sleepily from within.
Eyes, it's me, and no thanks to ye,'
replied the bear rider. Let down
the bar and build up q fire, or yell
be having a corpse on ye'er hands from
the want O. grub"
The bar was let down, and in strobe
John McEachern, with the glistening
| black bearskin, all stained with red, on
his shoulder. He threw a bloody bundle
at Russell. Cook bit O. that" com
handed he, land tell me what came
of We, and didn't we mind losing ye'eT
| pardner?"
81 walked meself lame lookin' for We, "
| said Russell. 81 thought We skipped
John McEachern only grunted. Their