CHAPTER X

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Incidents Connected with Bear Trapping.

Several years ago, I was trapping for bears on the East Fork of the Sinnemahoning River. I usually went on horse back as far as I could when tending the traps. But boys, don't be bad, as I was, for this was on Sunday that I went to look at the traps. I found the bait-pen of the first one torn down, bait gone and everything showed plainly that Bruin had been there. As I had no bait at hand, I went to the next trap. I found things quite different, for the old bear had surely "put his foot in it" this time, as the trap was gone. On taking the trail I did not follow it far, before I found bruin fast in an old tree-top. I soon dispatched him and taking off his coat, hung up his carcass. Now the bait was gone at this trap also. Let me tell you that this is something that rarely happens, for when the bear puts his foot in a Newhouse trap, he seldom tarries to monkey with bait. I suspected that another bear had been there after this one had got in the trap. As I had no bait I took the lungs and heart of the one I had caught and baited the traps the best I could, then I took the skin and started for home. Well, when I got near the horse you can bet there was some tall prancing and loud snorting. After a long time I managed to get on his back and home with the skin.

The next morning I began to have some doubt whether bears were cannibals or not. I thought I would take some fresh bait and go back and bait the traps up good.

When I got near the trap in which I had caught the bear the day before, I heard a great deal of wrestling going on and it did not take long to see that I had an old he-bear hung up this time. And now was the time that I began to realize what a boy's trick I had cut up, for I had not taken any gun with me; only a small revolver and three cartridges. I found that the bear was dead fast and a big one too. He seemed to be more inclined to quarrel than bears usually are. I took my trapping hatchet in one hand and revolver in the other, and worked my way up close as I dared and awaited the best chance I could get to shoot for he was rolling and tumbling like a ball. I fired at his head but missed it. I fired the two remaining cartridges just back of the fore-shoulders. He paid about as much attention to it as I imagine he would if it had been a flea that bit him. After waiting some time to see what effect the shots would have and noticing no change in Bruin's countenance, I concluded I would see what I could do with a club. I soon found that I and the club were not "in it," so I gave it up as a bad job and went home after the team and a gun. On my way home I had to pass the house of an old trapper by the name of Stevens. Of course, he was out to see what luck I had, and when I told him my story, he gave a great laugh and said he would go and let the bear out of the trap. When we got back to the trap the next day we found the fight all gone out of Bruin, for the two shots had penetrated the lungs and he was nearly dead.

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Pard, whom I call Co, and I went camping many years ago on a branch of the Susquehanna River in Lycoming County, Pennsylvania. At that time all that part of the country was an unbroken wilderness and we were several miles from the nearest town. Now Co was a good hunter but despised trapping, saying it was no gentleman's sport, yet he was always ready to do his share in camp life.

One evening in December Co did not turn up at dark, the usual hour for his return, still I did not worry much until eight o'clock, but from that time until about nine I kept going to the door and giving an occasional "Kho-Hoop," just to let him know the direction of the camp if he was within ear shot. As Co did not return, about nine o'clock I shouldered my rifle and started out in the direction that he had gone, shooting off my gun, and occasionally letting out a shout that echoed from hill to hill, but no answer came back in reply. The weather was growing extremely cold and I began to feel very much worried about Co for although I knew he was a good woodsman, I imagined all sorts of calamities had befallen him. At every high point I would fire my gun but never an answer could I hear. I kept this up till midnight, and then retraced my steps to camp intending to take an early start in the morning, when I could see to track my wandering partner.

Judge of my delight, when about half a mile from camp the sharp report of a rifle rang out on the clear night air, and I knew Pard had returned alive. I hastened to the shanty where I found Co all right but as mad as a hornet. As he raved around he exclaimed: "No one but a--fool would catch anything in a--steel trap. If you must trap things, get them in something that will stay put." When Co cooled off a little, I said: "Come old man, tell us what has happened." "What has happened," said he, "enough has happened, I should think. I went where you set that tarnal old bear trap and some critter has got into it and broken the chain and carried it off, and he makes a track bigger than an elephant. He's making for the big windfall and I followed him more than forty miles, and he was farther ahead of me than when I started, and I hope he will get into the old windfall and stay there till doomsday." Well, Pard felt better when he had eaten the hot supper I had left for him and we turned in for a few hours' sleep.

The next day we went to town and got a number of men and dogs and the following morning started out early on the track of old bruin. We soon struck the trail and located the beast in a big ravine. Stationing the men around where the bear was likely to break cover, I went in with the dogs to drive him out.

Now there was one young chap among the crowd called Dan, who proved to be of rather a timid nature. The battle which soon followed proved very short owing to the number of guns opened on the bear the moment he broke cover and he was soon dispatched and nearly as soon skinned and cut up. But when I looked for Dan he was nowhere to be found. A searching party was organized and after beating the bush for some time, poor, frightened Dan was finally located in the top of a small beech tree and came tumbling down inquiring if the bear was "sure dead."

* * *

I have often thought I would like to relate some of my experiences in the woods while deer hunting. Many a time while following a herd of deer or a wounded one over ridge after ridge, has the sun set and the stars come out and I found myself many miles from my cabin or any habitation. Then I would find a large fallen tree, that laid close to the ground, gather a pile of dry limbs and bark, scrape away the snow from the log, often the snow being a foot deep, build a fire where I scraped the snow away. When the ground became thoroughly warm, I would rake the coals and brands down against the log, put on more wood, and then I would place hemlock boughs on the ground, where I had previously had the fire. Soon they would begin to steam and after frizzling some venison (if I chanced to have it) before the fire I would take off my coat, lie down on my stomach, pull the coat over my head and shoulders and sleep for hours before waking. Sometimes I would have the skin of a bear to put over me, and for doing these things my friends would scold me, but the reader will know, if he has the blood of a hunter in him, that I enjoyed it.

But this is not what I started to write about, it was of a day's hunt after a bear on the 16th day of December, 1903. On the day previous, the afternoon sun sinking to rest in the west, casts its rays for a moment upon a solitary hunter's cabin in the hills of old Potter, then the bright glows faded away, the sun disappeared behind the mountains and it was a soft beautiful twilight, while I stood just outside the cabin door meditating. Mart (that is an old liner who had come to my cabin to have a few days' hunt) came out of the cabin and I said, "old man, what are you thinking about?" The reply was, "just watching the sun set." "Don't you think the coon will be out tonight if it holds warm?" "I don't know what the coon will do, but I know we went around a bear over in that jam in Dead Man's Hollow. (This hollow is so called because a fisherman a few years ago, found the body of a man who had gotten lost and died in the snow the winter before).

Well what do you think you will do about it? I think we had better turn in early so as to get an early start in the morning and see if we can find where the bear is sleeping. "Agreed," said Mart, and we were soon in bed, but it was a long time before I closed my eyes in sleep for I was familiar with the woods in the neighborhood where the bear was supposed to be and I mapped out and laid every plan that was to be carried out the next day before I went to sleep.

At four o'clock in the morning we were astir and soon breakfast was ready and eaten, lunch put up and at the break of day we were on our way to where bruin was supposed to be, a distance of about five miles, which is no small job for an old cripple like myself. After about three hours we were on the ground where we were in hopes of finding bruin. Mart was to circle several points outside of where we thought the bear was snoozing; this was done to make sure that the bear was in there. I took a position where the bear was most likely to come out if he was there and should be started by Mart. My position was in an open piece of timber on the point of a hill and near a very thick jam of trees that had been broken down two years before by a heavy ice storm and near the bear track where he had gone in several days before. Mart was to make another circle somewhat smaller than the one he had previously made for we now knew that the bear was in the jam of timber.

After completing the second circle Mart was to drop below the jam where we were quite sure bruin was napping and work his way through the fallen timber. This worked all right, for soon I heard Mart cry out: "Look out, he is coming." Soon I heard the crashing of the brush and could tell that bruin was coming directly toward me, and in another minute he broke into the open timber. My rifle was already pointed in that direction and bruin had scarcely made two jumps in the open timber when I fired. The bear made a loud noise like that of a hog and I knew that he was hit hard and could already see a crimson streak in the snow. But bruin steadily held his course, in a few yards further he made an attempt to jump a large fallen tree and I fired again. This shot was more fatal than the first, and he fell to the ground and could not rise. I hurried up and fired a shot through his head which soon quieted him. Mart was soon on the scene and after a little rejoicing we soon had his hide off, and cutting the fore parts off and hanging them in a tree to be brought out the next day. Mart took the saddles and I the skin and started for camp, which we reached shortly before dark, and as we had prepared things for supper before leaving in the morning, supper was soon ready which consisted of buckwheat cakes, wild honey, baked potatoes, bacon, bear steak and tea. Dear readers, do not tell Mart, but I think that he took a hot toddy after talking the hunt over and over. Again, we laid down to rest our weary selves and dream of the hunt which may never come.

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