Bob Stewart now joined me. "That's no good," he exclaimed, "you shouldn't run forward when you hear the rush of a bear, but jump on one side, as I did. Supposing that bear had come straight at you; why, he'd a been on the top of you before you could have got your rifle up. True, you've got a double-barrel, but that's not my way of shooting bears, although that's the way to JUMP A BEAR, which you've seen now, and you may jump a good many before you get a shot in this kind of stuff." I could not induce Bob to take any further trouble in pursuit, as he assured me that it would be to no purpose: the bear when thus disturbed would go straight away, and might not halt for several miles. This was a disappointment; we therefore sought our horses, which we found quietly grazing in the place that we expected. Remounting, we rode slowly through the great mass of spruce firs, which I had named the "10 mile forest." There was very little underwood beyond a few young spruce here and there, and we could see from 80 to 100 yards in every direction. Presently we came across an enormous skull, which Bob immediately examined, and handed it to me, suggesting that I should preserve it as a specimen. He declared this to be the skull of a true grizzly; but some of the teeth were missing, and as I seldom collect anything that I have not myself shot or taken a part in shooting, I declined the head, although it was double the size of anything I had experienced. The forest was peculiarly dark, and the earth was so soft from the decaying pine needles, that our horses made no noise, unless when occasionally their hoofs struck against the brittle branches of a fallen tree. We were thus riding, always keeping a bright look-out, when Bob (who was leading) suddenly sprang from his mare, and as quick as lightning fired at a black-tail buck, that was standing about 80 yards upon our right. His shot had no effect; the deer, which had not before observed us, started at the shot, and stood again, without moving more than three or four yards. Bob had reloaded his Sharp like magic, and he fired another shot, hitting it through the neck, as it was gazing directly towards us; it fell dead, without moving a foot. We rode up to the buck; it was in beautiful condition, but the horns were in velvet, and were useless. I now watched with admiration the wonderful dexterity with which Bob, as a professional skin-hunter, divested this buck of its hide. It appeared to me that I could hardly take off my own clothes (if I were to commence with my greatcoat) quicker than he ripped off the skin from this beautiful beast. With very little delay, the hide was neatly folded up, and secured to the Mexican saddle by the long leathern thongs, which form portions of that excellent invention.