all around him. We stomped across the clearing, and, sure enough, the bear was dead. We had to drag him across an old log and was he heavy! As we were skinning him with out knives, we could see where the first shot went through the fleshy part of his hip, up along his side and cutting his jugular vein. We were still excited as we carried his pelt home.

The next day, we hauled the carcass home with a horse and sleigh, and we estimated that he weighed about 600 pounds. We cut the meat in junks and boiled it in an old farmer’s boiler in order to collect the grease. He had been fairly fat, and we filled a fifteen-pound firkin with grease. We had no idea what it might be used for, but we stored it away in the workshop.

We dried the pelt, but since we did not know how to cure it properly, it deteriorated after a few years, and it had to be discarded.

Perhaps one of the greatest unexpected surprises came when one day a few weeks later, when we received a letter from a company in England. They had read about the shooting in the papers, and wished to know if we would consider selling the fat. Naturally, we were quite excited about the possibility of making money. So, we shipped the fat, and we were pleased to receive $14.00 for it. Just to think of the fact that it went all the way to England was in itself quite thrilling.

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