"The main thing, younker, is not to git rattled. Now, if you happen to see old Ephraim sailing for you, all you have to do is to make your aim sure and let him have it between the eyes, or just back of the foreleg; or, if you don't have the chance to do that, plug him in the chest, where there's a chance of reaching his heart."
By "old Ephraim" the hunter referred to the grizzly bear, as the boys knew.
"I have heard that it generally takes several shots to kill a grizzly."
"That's 'cause the bullets are not put in the right place. You see, old Ephraim don't take any trouble to give you a better show than he has to, and you must look out fur yourself."
"There are other kinds of bears in Wyoming?"
"Rather—several of 'em. For instance, there's the cinnamon, which, in my 'pinion, is about as bad as Ephraim. I've fit both kinds, and the one that left that big scar down the side of my cheek and chawed a piece out of my thigh was a cinnamon, while I never got a scratch that 'mounted to anything from Ephraim."
"What about the black bear?"
"He's less dangerous than any of 'em. A black bear ain't much more than a big dog. Last fall I killed one with my revolver."
"What other kinds of game are we likely to meet?"
"Wal, it would be hard to name 'em all. There's the deer and antelope, of course, which you find in all parts of the West. Then there's the mountain lion, that is fond of living on beef."