CHAPTER X.
Incidents Connected with Bear Trapping.
Several years ago, I was trapping for bears on the East Fork of the Sinnemahoning River. I usually went on horse back as far as I could when tending the traps. But boys, don't be bad, as I was, for this was on Sunday that I went to look at the traps. I found the bait-pen of the first one torn down, bait gone and everything showed plainly that Bruin had been there. As I had no bait at hand, I went to the next trap. I found things quite different, for the old bear had surely "put his foot in it" this time, as the trap was gone. On taking the trail I did not follow it far, before I found bruin fast in an old tree-top. I soon dispatched him and taking off his coat, hung up his carcass. Now the bait was gone at this trap also. Let me tell you that this is something that rarely happens, for when the bear puts his foot in a Newhouse trap, he seldom tarries to monkey with bait. I suspected that another bear had been there after this one had got in the trap. As I had no bait I took the lungs and heart of the one I had caught and baited the traps the best I could, then I took the skin and started for home. Well, when I got near the horse you can bet there was some tall prancing and loud snorting. After a long time I managed to get on his back and home with the skin.
The next morning I began to have some doubt whether bears were cannibals or not. I thought I would take some fresh bait and go back and bait the traps up good.
When I got near the trap in which I had caught the bear the day before, I heard a great deal of wrestling going on and it did not take long to see that I had an old he-bear hung up this time. And now was the time that I began to realize what a boy's trick I had cut up, for I had not taken any gun with me; only a small revolver and three cartridges. I found that the bear was dead fast and a big one too. He seemed to be more inclined to quarrel than bears usually are. I took my trapping hatchet in one hand and revolver in the other, and worked my way up close as I dared and awaited the best chance I could get to shoot for he was rolling and tumbling like a ball. I fired at his head but missed it. I fired the two remaining cartridges just back of the fore-shoulders. He paid about as much attention to it as I imagine he would if it had been a flea that bit him. After waiting some time to see what effect the shots would have and noticing no change in Bruin's countenance, I concluded I would see what I could do with a club. I soon found that I and the club were not "in it," so I gave it up as a bad job and went home after the team and a gun. On my way home I had to pass the house of an old trapper by the name of Stevens. Of course, he was out to see what luck I had, and when I told him my story, he gave a great laugh and said he would go and let the bear out of the trap. When we got back to the trap the next day we found the fight all gone out of Bruin, for the two shots had penetrated the lungs and he was nearly dead.
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Pard, whom I call Co, and I went camping many years ago on a branch of the Susquehanna River in Lycoming County, Pennsylvania. At that time all that part of the country was an unbroken wilderness and we were several miles from the nearest town. Now Co was a good hunter but despised trapping, saying it was no gentleman's sport, yet he was always ready to do his share in camp life.
One evening in December Co did not turn up at dark, the usual hour for his return, still I did not worry much until eight o'clock, but from that time until about nine I kept going to the door and giving an occasional "Kho-Hoop," just to let him know the direction of the camp if he was within ear shot. As Co did not return, about nine o'clock I shouldered my rifle and started out in the direction that he had gone, shooting off my gun, and occasionally letting out a shout that echoed from hill to hill, but no answer came back in reply. The weather was growing extremely cold and I began to feel very much worried about Co for although I knew he was a good woodsman, I imagined all sorts of calamities had befallen him. At every high point I would fire my gun but never an answer could I hear. I kept this up till midnight, and then retraced my steps to camp intending to take an early start in the morning, when I could see to track my wandering partner.
Judge of my delight, when about half a mile from camp the sharp report of a rifle rang out on the clear night air, and I knew Pard had returned alive. I hastened to the shanty where I found Co all right but as mad as a hornet. As he raved around he exclaimed: "No one but a--fool would catch anything in a--steel trap. If you must trap things, get them in something that will stay put." When Co cooled off a little, I said: "Come old man, tell us what has happened." "What has happened," said he, "enough has happened, I should think. I went where you set that tarnal old bear trap and some critter has got into it and broken the chain and carried it off, and he makes a track bigger than an elephant. He's making for the big windfall and I followed him more than forty miles, and he was farther ahead of me than when I started, and I hope he will get into the old windfall and stay there till doomsday." Well, Pard felt better when he had eaten the hot supper I had left for him and we turned in for a few hours' sleep.
The next day we went to town and got a number of men and dogs and the following morning started out early on the track of old bruin. We soon struck the trail and located the beast in a big ravine. Stationing the men around where the bear was likely to break cover, I went in with the dogs to drive him out.