wounded bears. Away went the doctor.

"Let them alone, doctor," said Houston. "Hold up! That valley's full of
bears." For he had seen a third.

The doctor paused a moment, and then there was a rush down the slope. A
second shot finished one bear, and then began a running fight of a mile,
in which wind was of more value than courage. Finally, Bruin No. 2
stopped. Leaving C. to end his days, the doctor and Houston pursued No.
3. As the bear grew weak and they approached him, the doctor's
excitement and Houston's quite reasonable prudence rose together.

"Don't go down that cooly, doctor."

Then a shot or two, a growl, and the doctor gasping, "Do you think I
left my practice to let that bear die in his bed?"

"Well, the place is full of bears," said George; and so on they went,
now a shot and now a growl, and then a hasty retreat of Bruin, until,
utterly blown and in full sight of his prey, the unhappy doctor murmured
in an exhausted voice, "Give me one cool shot, George."

"Darn it!" replied George, "who's been warming your shots?"

And this one cool shot ended the fray. Returning, they found the judge
had driven his bear into a thicket, and, having probably taken out a _ne
exeat_ or an injunction, or some such effective legal remedy against
him, awaited reinforcements. As George and the doctor arrived the bear
moved out into the open, and was killed by a final shot.

Mr. Jump informs us that one gets an awful price out of the Chinese for
bear-galls; and it is the judge's opinion that at this supreme moment
the doctor would have taken a contract to supply all China with bile of
Bruin. I suspect our friend George has since told at many a camp-fire
how the doctor's spurs danced down the coolies, and how the judge
corralled his bear.

We broke camp August 10th at four, after a night of severe cold--27 deg.
Fahrenheit--but perfectly dry and dewless. E. and I, as usual, pushed on
ahead across Lodge Pole Creek, and so down the valley of Clarke's Fork.
An increasing luxury of growth gave us, in wood or swamp, cottonwood,
alder, willow, wild currants and myriads of snow-white lilies, and, in
pretty contrast, the red or pink paint-brush. Losing Pilot and Index as
the windings of the main valley hid them, and leaving them behind us, we
began to see rocks of bright colors and more and more regular walls of
silvery gray stone. At last the widening valley broadened, and from it
diverged five valleys, like the fingers from a h