trimmers” whistling through the bottom of a valuable wash tub, render- ing it unfit for use. He asked what I was going to do. “Going to shoot bears” was my reply. No sooner said than I was suddenly and uncere- moniously taken by the back of the neck and, with a dextrous movement of the right foot, sent sprawling in the snow outside.

Recovering from my surprise, I hastened to join “Big Samager” at the house of his brother who, in his time, was a famous hunter. We told him our experiences, but he laughed at the idea of its being bears. Howsomever, to make a long story short, he told us to take the guns and axe and go ahead and he would follow. Its being Sunday, he did not care to be seen out with a gun.

We soon reached the wood again and waited for the old man to come up. We hadn’t long to wait. He soon arrived and at once pro- ceeded to examine the spot we pointed out at the den. The very minute he eyed the place the old gray hairs stood on an end, and he sang out, “Bears, by thunder! Bring me the guns!” We obeyed. Taking a gun, he walked fearlessly to the mouth of the den and fired. Not a sound could be heard within. He then grabbed the axe and cut away the limbs and bush and, peeping in, could see the old bear sitting on her haunches. Grasping hold of the other gun, he took aim and fired. Holy smoke! green lizards! and blind vermin! If ever you heard yells and howls it was then. Out they rushed — the old one and two cubs. The hunter again fired at the old one, killing her instantly. I had taken refuge on the extreme top of a tall rampike. “Big Samager” never able to do anything in a hurry, was not so fortunate, and one of the cubs, in its mad rush for safety ran plumb centre between the big fellow’s legs, upending him and burrying him to the shoulders in the snow. Nothing could be seen but a pair of 14 inch mudscows above the saplings.

The two cubs were then gone — one of them wounded. After extricating “Samager” from his perilous position, the old hunter cau- tioned us not to say there was more than one bear. We would now, he said, take the old one home and, returning in the morning, get on the track of the other two and kill them also.

We did this and returned next morning to the scene of our adven- ture the evening before. It didn’t take long to find their traces and still shorter to find the bears, the wounded one not being able to travel fast. One of its hind legs had been almost severed from the body. When We came up with them, the old hunter despatched the wounded one in a hurry and ordered “Samager” to stay by the dead one as the other one would most likely return. He started again on the track. I had again mounted a big rampike.

Sure enough, it was no time till the other bear came back, and while it was in the act of smelling its dead comrade, “Big Samager” prepared to fire. He aimed and reaimed, grumbled and leveled and, after a long time, pulled the trigger. Up stood Bruin on his hind lgs, stripped his teeth and sprang at “Samager” who floundered out of the way, but not before Bruin, with one stroke of his paw, had mown half the heel off his old mudscow.

“Samager” roared and sprawled in the snow, thinking no doubt his end had come, but the old hunter arrived on the scene at this time,

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