I have observed the daily habits of many kinds of wild animals in their wild haunts, but in the field I never yet have seen either a fight between animals of the same species, or between two of different species. This may seem a very humiliating admission for a hunter to make, but it happens to be true. In the matter of finding big snakes, having exciting adventures, and witnessing combats between wild animals, there are some men who never are in luck. Now there was the "Old Shekarry,"--whose elephants, tigers, bison, bears, and sambar always were so much larger than mine. In his book, "Sport in Many Lands," he describes an affair of honor between a tiger and a bull bison, which was a truly ideal combat. The champions met by appointment,--by the light of the moon, in order to be safe from interference by the jungle police,--and they fought round after round, in the most orthodox prize ring style, under the Queensberry rules. So fairly did they fight that neither claimed a foul, and at the finish the two combatants retired to their respective corners and died simultaneously, "to the musical twitter of the night bird." Another writer has given a vivid description of a battle to the death between a wild bull and a grizzly bear; and we have read of several awful combats between black bears and alligators, in Florida; but some of us have yet to find either a black bear or an alligator that will stop to fight when he has an option on a line of retreat. When he has lived long,--say to the length of twelve feet,--the alligator is a hideous and terrorizing beast; but, for all that, he knows a thing or two; and a full grown, healthy black bear of active habit is about the last creature on earth that a 'gator would care to meddle with. Pigs and calves, fawns, stray dogs, ducks and mud hens are antagonists more to his liking. The Fighting Tactics of Bears. In captivity, bears quarrel and scold one another freely, at feeding time, but seldom draw blood. I have questioned many old hunters, and read many books by bear hunters, but Ira Dodge, of Wyoming, is the only man I know who has witnessed a real fight between wild bears. He once saw a battle between a cinnamon and a grizzly over the carcass of an elk. In attacking, a bear does three things, and usually in the same order. First, he delivers a sweeping sidewise blow on the head of his antagonist; then he seizes him by the cheek, with the intention of shifting to the throat as quickly as it is safe to do so. His third move consists in throwing his weight upon his foe and bearing him to the earth, where he will have a better chance at his throat. If the fighters are fairly matched, the struggle is head to head and mouth to mouth. After the first onset, the paws do little or no damage, and the attacks of the teeth rarely go as far down as the shoulders. Often the assailant will seize his opponent's cheek and hold on so firmly that for a full minute the other can do nothing; but this means little.