The glittering
snowbank before us was vacant.
The air seemed strangely still; the silence was oppressive. Our nervous
tension exploded in a wave of laughter and exclamations of wonderment.
Frost declared he had never seen such a spectacle in all his life; four
grizzly bears in deadly combat; the din of battle; the wild bellowing;
and two bowmen shooting arrow after arrow into this jumble of
struggling beasts.
[Illustration: OUR CAMP AT SQUAW LAKE, WYOMING]
[Illustration: THE RESULT OF OUR FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH A CHARGING
GRIZZLY BEAR]
[Illustration: BRINGING HOME THE TROPHIES]
The snow was trampled and soaked with blood as though there had been an
Indian massacre. We paced off the distance at which the charging female
had been stopped. It was exactly eight yards. A mighty handy shot!
We went down to view the remains. Young had three arrows in the old
bear, one deep in her neck, its point emerging back of the shoulder. He
shot that as she came at us. His first arrow struck anterior to her
shoulder, entered her chest, and cut her left lung from top to bottom.
His third arrow pierced her thorax, through and through, and lay on the
ground beside her with only its feathers in the wound.
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