ear, but there were no other tracks where his body was found, and I
know for a fact that old Whitehead did kill him.

"I was pirooting around in the brush on a hill pretty well up toward
the head of Piru Creek one afternoon, when I caught sight of a bear
about twenty yards ahead of me. I could see only a part of his fur,
and couldn't tell how he was lying or what part of him was in sight. I
figured around a few minutes, but couldn't get a better sight, and so I
just took chances and let drive for luck at what I could see. It was a
fool thing to do, of course, but I just happened to feel careless and
confident. There was a snort and a crash, and old Whitehead loomed up
madder than a hornet. I had shot him in the haunch and he felt
insulted. He made a rush at me, and I skipped aside and jumped for a
small tree standing on the brink of a little ravine. My rifle dropped
into the ravine, and I went up the tree like a monkey up a pole, and by
the time the old bear had put his helm down and swung around to take a
whack at me I was out of his reach and felt safe.

"The bear sat down and deliberately sized up the situation, and then he
walked up to the tree and began striking at the trunk with his right
paw. That made me laugh at first, but I was just paralyzed with
amazement when I saw clean-cut chips flying at every stroke and caught
a metallic gleam as his paw swung in the air. I didn't have much time
to investigate the matter because the old Grizzly was a boss chopper
and my tree began to totter very soon. I had sense enough to see that
if I came down with the tree on the upper side the bear would nail me
with one jump, and I threw my weight on the other side so as to fall
the tree into the ravine. I thought I might have the luck to land
without breaking any bones, and then I'd have quite a start of the bear
and perhaps be able to pick up my rifle.

"As the tree toppled over the edge of the ravine and began to fall I
swung around to the upper side and braced myself for the crash. During
the fall I managed to throw my legs out over a branch, and when the
tree struck bottom I shot out feet foremost, sliding down through the
brushy top and landing with a pretty solid jar right side up and no
damage except a few bruises and scratches. The first thing I looked
for was my rifle, and, luckily, it wasn't two yards away. I grabbed it
and ran up the other side of the ravine to a rocky ledge, while the
Grizzly was crash