It may have been about four or five miles from us to the spot where I had seen the dark object moving.
After riding some distance, we came upon a ridge which enabled Peter to make up his mind that what he now saw was a bear and not a buffalo. This was to both of us somewhat of a disappointment, as it was food more than sport we wanted.
I said to Peter, "Will the bear not be good to eat?" "Of course he will, and we will try and kill him," was Peter's reply; and carefully scanning the ground he laid his plan for doing this. The bear was lazily coming to the shore of the lake, and Peter said, "I think he is coming to bathe, and in all probability will swim across to this side of the lake."
There was a gully running down through the hills to the lake, and Peter told me to follow that to the shore, and said he would ride around and thus give us a double chance.
Accordingly we separated, and I made my way down the gully, and coming near the lake dismounted and crawled up the little hill which alone was my cover from that portion of the lake where I expected to see our game.
Parting the grass at the summit of the hill, what I saw almost made my heart jump into my mouth, for here was Bruin swimming straight for me.
How excited I was! I very much doubted my ability to shoot straight, even when I got the chance.
Crawling back under cover I endeavored to quiet my nerves, and waited for my opportunity. Then, looking through the grass again, I saw the bear swimming, as hard as he could, back to the shore he had come from, and though he was far out I concluded to try a shot at him, and doing so, saw my ball strike the water just to the left of his head.
Mine was but a single-barrelled shot-gun at best, and here I was with an empty gun and a restive horse, and looking for the reason of the bear's sudden change of front, I saw Peter galloping around the end of the lake to intercept the bear, if possible.
Jumping on my horse, I followed as fast as I could, and began to load my gun as I rode.