y early in the morning, taking with them tomahawks, hunting-knives,
rifles, and a good dog. On arriving at the ravine, Hobbs told McIntire
to cross over to the other side and climb the hill, but on no account
to go down into the ravine, as a grizzly is more dangerous when he has
a man on the downhill side. Hobbs then went to where he thought the elk
might be if he had died by the bank of the stream; but as soon as he
came near the water, he saw that a large grizzly had got there before
him, having scented the animal, and was already making his breakfast.

The bear was in thick, scrubby oak brush, and Hobbs, making his dog lie
down, crawled behind a rock to get a favourable shot at the beast. He
drew a bead on him and fired, but the bear only snarled at the wound
made by the ball and started tearing through the brush, biting furiously
at it as he went. Hobbs reloaded his rifle carefully, and as quickly as
he could, in order to get a second shot; but, to his amazement, he saw
the bear rushing down the ravine chasing McIntire, who was only about
ten feet in advance of the enraged beast, running for his life, and
making as much noise as a mad bull. He was terribly scared, and Hobbs
hastened to his rescue, first sending his dog ahead.

Just as the dog reached the bear, McIntire darted behind a tree and
flung his hat in the bear's face, at the same time sticking his rifle
toward him. The old grizzly seized the muzzle of the gun in his teeth,
and, as it was loaded and cocked, it either went off accidentally or
otherwise and blew the bear's head open, just as the dog had fastened
on his hindquarters. Hobbs ran to the assistance of his comrade with all
haste, but he was out of danger and had sat down a few rods away, with
his face as white as a sheet, a badly frightened man.

After that fearful scare, McIntire would cook or do anything, but said
he never intended to make a business of bear-hunting; he had only wished
for one adventure, and this one had satisfied him.

CHAPTER XX. PAWNEE ROCK.

That portion of the great central plains which radiates from Pawnee
Rock, including the Big Bend of the Arkansas, thirteen miles distant,
where that river makes a sudden sweep to the southeast, and the
beautiful valley of the Walnut, in all its vast area of more than a
million square acres, was from time immemorial a sort of debatable land,
occupied by none of the Indian tribes, but claimed by all to hunt in;
for it was a fam