cross
the chaparral by a direction different from that which the main body of
the party was pursuing. Suddenly Mr. Loring dropped his instrument and in
a tone of terror exclaimed:

"Look at that bear." I looked as he pointed in the direction of a large
rock, and there were three huge grizzly bears. Loring, being longer legged
than I, left me like a shot from a gun. I ran to a tree, near by, from
four to six feet in circumference, and very speedily found myself perched
among its branches. I looked for the bears. One had not left the spot
where we discovered them. Another was growling and snarling at the foot of
the tree which I had climbed. The other was going after Loring at no very
slow pace.

We had got through the chaparral and our party with the mules had also
come across and were many rods farther down the valley, coming up to meet
us. As Loring fled with the speed of an antelope, he met the first animal,
which happened to be the kitchen mule. He was so called, because he had
very large open bags or panniers, into which we put all our cooking
utensils. Loring sprang upon the back of the mule. At the same moment the
animal caught sight of the grizzly bear. Frantic with terror, he turned
and fled as mule never fled before. Down went the mule on the back track
along the edge of the chaparral. Once in a while, as the bags flew around,
they would catch on the bushes, and tear a hole. Soon the tin cups and
plates began to fly, the mule kicking at them with every jump, making such
a din as to set all the rest of the animals flying through the bushes, and
down the trail in the wildest imaginable stampede. The huge bear in mad
pursuit was rushing after them.

It was a sight I shall never forget. Loring on the cook's mule hanging on
with all his might. The tin ware flying in all directions. All the boys as
well as your humble servant, up in the trees looking on. I laughed so
heartily at the ludicrous scene, that I was in danger of falling, in which
case the bear would have torn me to pieces right quick.

But who is this coming towards me? He is an old hunter of our party who
used to make shingles in the Red-woods. He has had two sons killed by
bears. Now he has joined our party to provide us with game. Deliberately,
he walks up to within ten feet of the bear who is growling at the foot of
my tree. Bruin turns on his new foe, and rising on his hind feet, with
appalling howlings, prepares for battle. But in an instant the