[to be continued.]
[BEAR-HUNTING.]
BY CASPAR WHITNEY.
ear-hunting varies according to the kind of bear you are hunting. If black bear, it is rather tame sport, but if it is grizzly, cinnamon, or silver-tip, as the several species of the grizzly are called, then it becomes big-game hunting indeed, and is sport for only the most experienced.
Grizzly-bear hunting is not boys' play. It is men's work, and only for the most experienced at that; no boy should be permitted to go grizzly-bear hunting, either alone or in the company of other boys, or even in the company of most men who claim to be sportsmen.
No boy of mine should ever go after a grizzly unless he was accompanied by a hunter whose nerves had been tried by "Old Ephraim," and whose experience was undoubted. The grizzly is such an uncertain beast in his temperament, and is so ferocious and so dangerous when once his ugly temper is aroused, that it is not safe to take any liberties with him, and it is certainly not safe for boys to take any chances about venturing into his country. For this reason I do not think boys ought to go bear-hunting, even for the black, in localities frequented by the grizzly. As a rule, grizzly and black bear do not live in the same localities, although in some parts of the Rocky Mountains, in Colorado and New Mexico, I have killed both within twenty-five miles of each other.
If, having your father's permission to hunt grizzly, you set out with an experienced sportsman, the latter will advise you as to your rifle. There are many different opinions on this rifle question. I have always used a .45-90-300 or a .45-110-340, preferably the latter. The dangerous feature of grizzly-hunting is the bear's wonderful vitality. If you were certain, absolutely, of putting a ball through his brain every time you fired at him, there would be no need of such concern as to your rifle, for a much smaller calibre would answer the purpose equally as well as the larger; but rarely are you in a position to put a ball into his brain, even if you are a sufficiently expert shot to do so. You may fire at 75, 100, or 150 yards—you will more often see him at the shorter distance than at the longer—but the chances of your dropping him in his tracks are not good. Occasionally you may do so, but not often. Now this is the danger. When you put that bit of lead into the grizzly, no matter how thoroughly it may do its work, most frequently "Old Ephraim" is going to make a bee-line for you; and, what is more disquieting, he is likely to sustain life long enough to reach you, unless meanwhile you stop him. I know of a case where a grizzly was shot through the heart twice at close range, and yet got to the hunter and fearfully injured him before the bear fell dead.
I have seen many illustrations of the inefficacy of lighter charges of powder, and known several instances where, had men using them been alone, they would have fared very badly from the wrath of the grizzly. My own experience has taught me that the heavy charge is desirable. I certainly should not go after a grizzly with anything less than a .45-90. That is why I have always advocated plenty of powder back of the ball when you come to tackle "Old Ephraim." Lately a cartridge has been put on the market, a .30-40, of smokeless powder, which is said to be very killing. Theodore Roosevelt has used it on antelope, and tells me that it does splendid execution—certainly as good as, if not better than, any of the heavier charges. Archie Rogers, who is a noted bear-hunter, also used the gun out West last season, and killed a bear with it. These are two of the most experienced sportsmen in the country; but a gun in the hands of Archie Rogers after grizzly is a very different matter from its being in the hands of the ordinary sportsman, to say nothing of a tyro. The next time I go after bear I shall take along one of these guns and try it, but it seems to me it has not yet had sufficient trial against the grizzly to warrant its being advised for inexperienced hunters or for boys. The boy who reads this article and starts for grizzly, and values my advice, will provide himself with the old reliable .45-110-340. For black bear the .45-90 is sufficiently powerful, and many rifles of smaller calibre have been used on this member of the bruin family.
The best time to hunt bear is in the spring, when they have just come out of their winter's holes, in which they have been sleeping away the coldest months. They are then very hungry, and constantly on the move, and to be seen in the open more than at any other season of the year. This is the time, too, when their fur is long and silky, and of very much better quality than later, for very soon after coming out of their holes the fur becomes thinner and coarser. It is at this time of the year that the bear is a meat-eater; and, in fact, he is almost any kind of an eater, being so ravenous as to take what he can. If in the neighborhood of a ranch, he will prey on the live-stock, particularly on pigs and chickens. A few months later, when summer comes on, he goes up from the foot-hills into the high mountain plateaus, where he lives on vegetable matter, grasses, and weeds, and becomes a very diligent seeker after beetles, and all the insect life that lives under stones and logs. The true time of plenty for bear, and certainly when you are most likely to get a shot at him, is in the last of the summer, during the berry season. This is when you must hunt for him on the sloping sides of the hills that are covered with berry bushes, and frequently they are so absorbed in devouring the luscious fruit as to be rather easy of approach, although do not get the idea it is too easy; a bear is never easy to approach, and approach is only a small part of the game. Later on in the autumn he again goes up on the high plateaus, where game is plenty, and again becomes a meat-eater. When the winter sets in, and the heavy snows come, he seeks a cavernous hole in the hill-side, or some natural cave in the mountains, among rocks, where he remains sleeping until spring.
It is very difficult to still hunt bear; in fact, it is the experience of most hunters that bear have been more frequently come upon unexpectedly when out hunting for other game. You will probably have to make many trips before you see signs or before you get sight of a bear, and yet again you are apt to go out and stumble on to one. It takes the most careful hunting, because a bear, once aware of your presence in his vicinity, is very difficult to approach; he is certain to secure a position from which he can view an approaching enemy. And when you are looking for bear be very careful how you go through brush. It is not often a bear will charge you without your molesting him, unless it happens to be a female who has cubs near by. But nevertheless, as I have said, the grizzly is so uncertain in his temperament that he is just as apt to charge you as not to do so; and, at any rate, it is best not to run any chances, and therefore advisable to be very careful in going through heavy brush or any place in which he might be lurking. Bear-hunting is not popular with the average man who goes out with a rifle, because reward is so long delayed; it takes lots of time and plenty of patience and experience and skill to get your bear, and it is not every hunter who has this combination.
A GRIZZLY AT BAY.
Bear are baited, but I have never cared very much for that sort of sport. It seems to me that to lay behind a stump awaiting the approach of your victim to the bait you have put out to lure him takes all the hunting out of it. You are simply there to kill, and all the pleasure of pitting your woodcraft and skill against the animal is entirely lost.
See that your rifle is clean and in good working order, and be very chary how you follow a wounded grizzly into cover. It is an old dodge of "Ephraim's," when he does not attack openly, to slink into cover and lie in wait for the hunter who rushes in after him in the thought that he is retreating. Go slow; and do not do any hurried shooting. You should not hunt grizzly unless you are a good shot; and being so, take careful aim before you press the trigger. A painfully wounded grizzly is a dangerous beast.
[ARTIN THE KURD.]
BY G. B. BURGIN.
I.
am not afraid of you," said the Rev. William P. Marsh. "You know very well that I am an American missionary and that you dare not touch me."
Karin the son of Artog looked somewhat ruefully at Oglou the son of Kizzil. "The infidel dog speaks truth," said he. "We must be careful, or the Vali's soldiers will hear of it, and it will take much bakshish to free us. What shall we do with him?"
Before Oglou the son of Kizzil could reply, the Rev. William P. Marsh took a small Bible from his pocket. "The subject of my discourse," he remarked, tucking a horse-blanket over his feet to keep off the cold, and comfortably resting his back against the side of the mountain—"the subject of my discourse this evening will be on the sinfulness of taking what does not belong to us. I shall be enabled to put more vigor into my remarks from the fact that you have robbed me of all my money, have likewise stolen my horse and saddle-bags. As I came to this country just to look after your miserable souls, it's pretty mean of you. However, we will now consider the subject in its primary aspects; thence we will touch upon original sin; and after that I propose to present for your prayerful consideration the subject of Kurdish sin, which seems to be a pretty big variety in itself."
He deliberately turned over the leaves of his well-thumbed Bible in search of an appropriate text for these two ruffians who had waylaid and robbed him within five miles of Kharput. Karin the son of Artog looked irresolutely at Oglou the son of Kizzil.
"It would be simpler to cut this missionary pig's throat," he suggested, stroking his long mustache. "Perhaps the Vali would be only too glad to get rid of him."
"I should like to; I have not killed any one for a week," rejoined Oglou the son of Kizzil, with much fervor. "But—" He hesitated.
The missionary did not understand Kurdish, and spoke in Armenian. "It would be more becoming," he remarked, "for you to sit down and listen to me without interruption. You may never have such another chance."
The quick eyes of Karin the son of Artog caught a glimmer of arms in the plain below them. All around the mountain pass was flecked with snow. "Proclaimed by all the trumpets of the sky," fresh masses began to fall. Their own village was a good many miles away. This mad hodga would continue to preach until he talked them to death. The Turkish zaptiehs, winding slowly up from the plain below, might ask inconvenient questions and appropriate all the plunder.
"After all, it is only four liras," suggested Oglou the son of Kizzil. "If we cut his throat, the zaptiehs will come after us, and our horses are done up. Better tell him we repent and give him back the money."
"When Allah, the All Great, has given us this money," sententiously said Karin the son of Artog, "it is showing ourselves thankless to throw it aside. But—perhaps it is as well. We can always catch him again when there aren't any zaptiehs about. Let us repent and get away before we are caught by these sons of burnt mothers, the zaptiehs."
Hence it was the Rev. William P. Marsh felt that his efforts at conversion had been suddenly blessed. "Maybe I was a bit hard on you," he said, affably, as the two Kurds helped him into the saddle. "If ever you show yourselves in Kharput, just come and see me and let me know how you're getting on. I don't want either of you to backslide after this act of grace, for I know how badly you must feel at giving back this money. I could see just now that nothing but the fear of the Lord prevented you from cutting my throat. If that stops you from cutting your neighbors' throats in your usual hasty fashion, you'll be very glad you tried to rob me by the way, and were brought to repentance. Now here's this Bible of mine, beautifully printed in Armenian. Maybe some one could read it to you when you feel inclined to go out and plunder your neighbors after the fashion of these parts. If you like to have it just say so, and I'll make you a present of it."
"Some day we will bring it back to you, Effendi," obsequiously said Karin the son of Artog, as the two picturesque-looking villains helped the infirm old missionary into the saddle. "Where is your house?"
"By the big college; you can't mistake it," said the old missionary, cheerfully. "Just ask for me, and you shall have a square meal first and some square truth afterwards. But I must get on." He jogged his patient old horse with one spurless heel, and shuffled away in the direction of Kharput, lifting up his voice in a hymn of praise as he disappeared in the gathering night.
Karin the son of Artog and Oglou the son of Kizzil watched the receding old man with a grin. "Four liras!" said the one. "Four liras!" echoed the other. "Now for the zaptiehs." The two cronies turned in the direction of the approaching force, but it was not to be seen.
"They've turned off, and are not coming up the mountain at all," mournfully suggested Karin the son of Artog.
"Oh, if we had only known, sons of dead asses that we are!" wrathfully replied Oglou the son of Kizzil.
"We would have cut his throat and kept the money," they added, simultaneously.
But the good old missionary jogged up the steep incline to Kharput, feeling that he had not lived in vain, and that the mission report for that year of grace, 1880, would contain the first authentic instance of the sudden conversion to Christianity of two Kurd desperadoes.
"Allah is with him" (an Eastern equivalent for stating that a man is mad), said Karin the son of Artog, leaping on his wiry pony and digging his shovel-shaped stirrups into its hairy sides.
"We must have been mad too," suggested Oglou the son of Kizzil, as he galloped down the mountain-side after his friend, "to give him back four liras when I would have cut his throat for a medjidieh!"