We were seated round the fire discussing a hearty supper, of which bears’ flesh formed a substantial part, and Habakkuk Gaby, a Yankee, half trapper and half gold-digger, one of our new friends, who was seated a little way back on account of the heat, had got on the point of his knife a huge slice, which he was eating with evident enjoyment, though in no very refined fashion. Suddenly, from behind a neighbouring tree, a huge monster, his size increased threefold in the gloom, darted out towards us.

Un ourse! a grizzly—a bear! a bear!” shouted out our party, one after the other; but before any of us could rise to our feet the creature, seizing poor Mr Gaby round the waist, began to waddle off with him at great speed.

He had got, indeed, nearly fifty yards before we well knew what had happened: neither, indeed, did Habakkuk himself, very clearly. He kept shouting out—

“Let me go, you brute!—let me go, I say, or I’ll—”

The bear put a stop to any further remark, and he could only shriek out “Oh! oh! oh! Shoo—shoo—shoot!” Had anybody acted on his request he would inevitably have been hit, as the bear kept him between himself and our rifles. Trevor actually lifted his gun with the intention of firing, but I drew back his arm.

“Our best chance of saving the poor fellow is to rush in and stab the bear,” I said.

Fortunately, bruin’s immediate object was to get hold of the luscious steak Gaby had been eating. Putting him down, therefore, and keeping him pinned to the ground with his hind feet, the bear seized the steak and began greedily to devour it. Poor Habakkuk thought this would be a good opportunity to make his escape. No sooner, however, did he begin to move than bruin stopped eating, and gave him a look which clearly meant “You’d better not try that again.” Gaby remained perfectly quiet for a minute, and Stalker, Garoupe, and the Indians began moving round to either side that they might have a better chance of hitting the bear without killing the man. Trevor and I stood ready to fire if we had an opportunity. Again, Habakkuk thought that he could do the bear, and, springing up, made a leap forward; but bruin, who had just finished his steak, was too quick for him, and seizing him round the waist, gave him a most fearful hug. Poor Gaby’s features exhibited his very natural terror and the agony he was enduring. Uttering horrible shrieks, he shouted out—

“Fire! fire, friends! fire! Don’t mind who you hit so that you kill this infernal brute.”

I felt that something must be done to prevent such another hug, or poor Gaby would scarcely have a chance of escape with life; so, running up, I got within a few yards of the bear’s head, when, stopping, I took a steady aim and fired. As the monster rolled over on his back, poor Gaby fell forward in the opposite direction. While the rest of the party quickly despatched the bear I lifted up Habakkuk, whom I expected to find dead. However, to my great satisfaction, he slowly opened his eyes, and when he discovered that it was not the bear but I who was standing over him, and that bruin was killed, he drew a deep breath, as if to get back the wind which had been squeezed out of his body, and sat upright.

“Well, I guess that’s more than I ever went through afore, or ever wish to go through again,” he exclaimed. “It was mighty unpleasant—that it was!”