One day, when returning from shooting in the mountains, we happened to pass a bear's cave which was rarely inhabited--at least on former occasions when we examined it we had found no traces of bears, nor had one ever been marked into it that I was able to hear of, though the cave had the reputation of being occasionally used by bears. The cave was in a beehive-shaped pile of rocks standing on, or rather projecting from, a steep hillside. From the upper side it is easily approached, but to get at the mouth of the cave you have to step down, as it were, from the roof of the beehive on to a ledge of rock about six feet wide, below which there is a drop of ten or twelve feet. From the absence of any signs of bears about the roof of the cave I assumed that the cave was as usual uninhabited, but I thought I would gratify my curiosity by looking into it, so I got down on to the ledge, and was imprudent enough to leave my guns with the people on the roof above. As there were no signs of bears on the ledge or at the entrance, I told one of the natives to go in and take a look at the cave, but he had only penetrated a few feet from the entrance, which was about five feet high, than with three furious growls a bear charged headlong, and drove the intruder out with such force that he was shot clean over the ledge, and alighting (luckily) on his side, rolled some way down the steep hillside at the bottom of the drop. Bruin then with wonderful readiness knocked down the other man, who had not presence of mind enough to get out of the way, and after inflicting a scalp wound on the back of his head, dropped over the ledge, and got off unharmed amidst several shots which were fired at him by the people above, who of course from their position could not see the bear till he had got to a considerable distance. In the confusion that had occurred amongst the people left on the roof of the cave, who were as much unprepared for a bear as I was, some one had jostled my principal shikari--a testy and at times rather troublesome old man, but a most keen sportsman--and, to the great delight of every one, his shins had in consequence been barked against a sharp piece of rock. All the sympathy that ought to have been devoted to the wounded man he diverted to himself by the tremendous fuss he made about his injured shins, and this, and the chaff he had to sustain in consequence, quite rounded off the affair, and we all went home in high good humour, and the wounded man for years afterwards used to show his ear-to-ear scar with considerable satisfaction. Some people might have objected to the escape of the bear, but I confess that I did not grudge him the victory he had earned so well, and we consoled ourselves further with the reflection that we would get the better of him next time. Before concluding the subject of bears, I may give another incident which was rather amusing, and the narration of which may be of use as illustrating