'This mate of mine, who got into this trouble with a bear, was a rash young fellow who didn't know what danger meant, and often laughed and said he'd like to meet a bear as could scare him. About four years ago he was mining up here, and living in this very shanty. He was drilling in the rock for ore, and had a fair-sized prospect-hole, when one day as he was comin' back here for his grub, he came face to face with a bear with two cubs. Of course he ought to have run back to his prospect-hole, where he'd have been safe enough till she'd cleared off from the spot, but no--he was that reckless, he went straight for her and attacked her with his pickaxe, which was the only weapon he had. He'd no chance, however, against her; and many a time has he told me the terrible feeling he had when he struck out at her with all his might and jest missed her. The next moment she sent the pickaxe flying out of his hands, leaving him quite at her mercy. She caught him, and hugged and mangled him terribly. He'd jest sense enough left to remember that he once heard as a bear won't touch a dead man, so he, poor chap, tried it on as a last chance for life. He lay quite stiff and quiet, and lucky for him the trick succeeded. She loosed her grip of him, and sniffed and sniffed round him, until I guess she thought she must have finished him off. Then she went away with her cubs and left him. My mate jest managed to crawl in here and shut the door, and here I found him an hour later, as near dead as any man I ever saw. The bear had torn him dreadfully and bitten him, and, I tell you, he took some nursing to pull him through; but he did live, and is going still. However, you may be sure as he don't scoff and joke any more about bears.' 'I should think not, indeed,' said Jack. 'What an escape he had! Did the bear come back again?' 'No,' answered Joe. 'I followed her up carefully, and shot her with that 'ere rifle of mine as you see there in the corner. But I didn't fool with her, for I've done more bear-hunting than any man in the States, and know by experience you must be cautious. Yes, I killed her, and the two cubs as well. She was a grizzly, and a fierce un, too.' 'Are there many different kinds of bears on these mountains?' asked Jack, who was very interested in the subject. 'A good many,' returned the hunter. 'We've got the black, brown, and cinnamon bears, which 'll avoid you if they can; and then we've the grizzlies and silver-tipped bears, which are a kind of grizzly. The latter ain't quite so fierce as the real grizzly, but ain't pleasant to face when they're wounded.' Joe went on to tell how hunters tracked the creatures by the way they tore up ant-holes and rolled over big stones in their clumsy way of walking, and how they were often caught in traps set for them at the time when the wild raspberries and gooseberries were ripe, as then they came wandering down along the creeks, looking for the berries they liked so well.