"Yes," answered Joe; "it's a long time ago. The big California grizzlies had got to be mighty scarce long before I learned how to throw a rope; but here's Vicente—he's seen it done, for he told me so to-day. And I've heard a man, who did it before I was born, tell a story of what he himself had seen in California in early days."
"Well, I reckon we'll have to squeeze a story or two out of you and Vicente to-night," said Hugh; "but first I'd like to hear what you know, or have heard, about bears dying of anger."
"I know just about as much about it as any of the rest of us here," responded Joe. "It used to be common talk out in California that bears would die of anger; and the one we saw to-day certainly acted that way. At the same time, I don't suppose all bears are alike in their temper or feelings any more than all men are alike."
"I should say not," declared Hugh; "and that's what I've been trying to tell the people for a good many years. Men say that deer, or antelope, or coyotes, or jack-rabbits, always act in a certain way, under certain circumstances; but I don't believe a word of it. There's just as much difference in antelope and coyotes and jack-rabbits as there is in horses and cattle and dogs. Some are fast, others slow; some gentle, others wild; some are cross, others friendly; in other words, all the animals of a certain kind are not exactly alike, and don't all act alike."
"I guess everybody believes that, Hugh," said Powell, "if he stops to think of it, but the trouble with most of us is that we don't stop to think."
"That's sure what's the matter with most of the people in this country," replied Hugh; "they don't stop to think. They've got sense enough, if they'd only think. Well, Joe, tell us your story, the one you heard; or let's hear the one Vicente has to tell."
"I'll give you mine easy enough," said Joe. "It happened just about the time I was born, I suppose in the late '50s, and near a place called San Pascual. It seems that bears had been making trouble killing colts, and the men at the ranch made up their minds that they'd try to get 'em, or some of 'em; and if they got a bear, they'd take it to one of the towns near by and have a bear fight by fastening the bear and a bull together. Just about that time one of the men came in and reported another colt killed, and its mother badly scratched up; so two or three of the men, one of whom was supposed to know everything about bears, went out and looked the ground over to decide what to do. Finally they killed the old crippled mare on a low flat piece of prairie a mile wide and about three miles long and then took her paunch and dragged it, making a circuit of about ten miles, and finally came back to the carcass. They found in the trails the tracks of an old bear and three big cubs, and saw that they were traveling around pretty much all the time. When the men dragged the paunch they crossed a good many of these trails.
"While this was being done, other men went out and drove in the horses, and the best broken ones were picked out for those who were going to ride after the bear. Of course every man looked after his saddle. If any of the latigo strings, or any of the strings of the saddle or the bridle were worn a little, they were taken off and new strings put there. It wouldn't do to have anything break when they were going to try for a bear.
"The next morning early a man was sent out to go to the bait, and to where the paunch had been dragged, so as to learn if the bears had found it. He came back soon, and said it looked as if there had been a thousand bears going over the trail where the paunch had been dragged. He said that they had eaten considerable of the old mare.