My arrow had
severed a rib and buried its head in her heart. We measured her and
saved her skull and long bones for the taxidermist.
At daybreak we searched for the cubs and found one dead under a log
with an arrow through his brain. The others had disappeared.
We had no idea that we hit the great bear, but just to gather up our
shafts, we went over the ground where he had been.
One of Young's arrows was missing!
That gave us a thrill; perhaps we had hit him after all! We went
further in the direction he had gone; there was a trace of blood.
We trailed him. We knew it was dangerous business. Through clumps of
jack pines we cautiously followed, peering under every pile of brush
and fallen tree. Deep into the forest we tracked him, where his bloody
smear was left upon fallen logs. Soon we found where he had rested.
Then we discovered the fore part of Young's arrow. It had gone through
him. There was a pool of blood. Then we found the feathered butt which
he had drawn out with his teeth.
Four times he wallowed down in the mud or soft earth to rest and cool
his wound. Then beneath a great fir he had made a bed in the soft loam
and left it.
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