The White Elephant rooming house was located near where Mount Air Court now stands. It was in the early eighties and Eureka Springs had no water system such as we have today. Water was carried from the springs for drinking water and household use. “Aunt Min” who operated the White Elephant was worried. It was customary to send a couple of girls to Oil Spring down under the hill for water, but a bear had been seen in the vicinity of the spring and the girls were afraid to make the trip. Water was needed at the White Elephant so “Aunt Min” sent for Uncle Johnny Gaskins, a famous bear hunter, who lived on Leatherwood Creek north of town. Uncle Johnny arrived at the White Elephant early one November morning, his trusty double-barrel muzzle loader in the crook of his arm. He would get the bear if it had not already taken to its den for the winter. “Take a bucket and bring back some water,” said “Aunt Min.” The hunter took the wooden pail in one hand and his gun in the other and started down the hill, his eyes alert for bear tracks. It was a cold morning and he put his hands into his pants pockets, carrying the bucket in the crook of his left arm, the gun in the crook of his right. Two hundred yards down the hill the trail makes an abrupt turn to the cliff from which flows the Oil Spring. At this point Gaskins came face to face with a large black bear followed by a half-grown cub. He had killed many bears in close quarters and seldom got excited about it. But this occasion called for quicker action than he had ever experienced. Before the hunter could get his hands out of his pockets the bear had the end of the barrels of the gun in her mouth, chewing like mad. There was no time to get the gun to his shoulder so he fired from the hip, pulling the triggers of both barrels with his left hand, the bucket still on his left arm. It stopped the bear all right, almost blowing the animal’s head from its shoulders, but it did more than that. The end of the barrels in the bear’s mouth caused the gun to explode. Gaskins got a severe wound on his right forearm from the “kick” of the gun. The end of the barrels were twisted out of shape by the explosion. You may see the twisted barrels of this old gun at the Ozark Museum, Highway 62 West, Eureka Springs. Go and see for yourself.... Oh, yes, they had bear steak and spring water for dinner at the White Elephant that day.[14] Vance Randolph gives this tale under the title “Uncle Johnny’s Bear” in Who Blowed Up the Churchhouse? (New York, 1952), pp. 72-73. In his notes (p. 200) he says: