"And here's the landlady down on our ranch, chuck full of fiscal theories. 'B'ars is good,' says she, 'the more cubs the merrier,' says she, 'let's be fruitful and multiply.' And it's only a two b'ar ranch. Thar ain't no England handy whar she can dump spare cubs.
"So the landlord gets provident and eats the cubs. Naturally thar's a sort of coolness arises over that, so that she's feeding north, while he's around south. Then the salmon season happens. There's only two fishing rocks in our reach, the same being close together. The landlord, he fishes at the back-water rock. The landlady fishes at the rapids rock. They has to pretend they've not been introjuiced.
"There's been heavy rains, and up on the edge of the bench I seen a new crack opening across Apex Rock. I'd have put up a danger notice, only these people thinks it's for scratching their backs on. There's the crack getting wider, and the landlady fishing right underneath, and me hollerin,' but she's too full of pride to care about my worries. So I thinks maybe if I just drop her a hint she'll begin to set up and take notice. I run home for my rifle, posts myself at big pine, takes a steady bead, and lets fly, knocking a salmon out of the lady's mouth. Then I remembers that the shock of a gunshot is enough to loose the end of Apex Rock. It does, and while the scenery is being rearranged, the landlady sets up, wondering what's the trouble. When the dust clears, Apex Rock up here is reduced to a stump; down thar by the rapids the fishing rock's extended with additions; the landlord's a widower, running for all he's worth; and the landlady is no more—not enough left of her to warrant funeral obsequies."
"Why is the landlord called Eph?"
"Christian name. Most b'ars is Ephraim, but he's Ephrata which means 'be open.' I tried to get him to be open with me instead of stealing chickens. That's when the bad year come."
"Were you in difficulties?"
"Eph was. Them canneries down to salt water, had fished the Fraser out, and the hatchery didn't get to its work until the fourth year, when the new spawn come back to their home river. Yes, and the sarvis berries failed. I dunno why, but the silver-tips of this districk ain't partial to the same kinds of feed as they practises in Montana and Idaho. Down south they'll lunch on grubs, ants, or dog-tooth violets, but Eph ain't an original thinker. He runs to application, and shies at new ideas. He'd vote conservative. So when the salmon and berries went back on him, he sort of petered out. He come to the cabin and said, plain as talk, he was nigh quitting business."
"But, Jesse! A starving gr—I mean b'ar. Weren't you afraid even then?"
"Why for? My pardner attends to his business, and don't interfere with my hawss ranch. He owns the grubs, berries, salmon, wild honey and fixings. I owns the grass, stock, chickens, and garden sass. When we disagreed about them cabbages, I shot holes in his ears until he allowed they was mine. His ears is still sort of untidy. As to his eating Sarah, wall, I warned her not to tempt poor Eph too much."
"Sarah?"