Old man Lepley tells me one time about a bear he was near enough to shake hands with but they don’t get acquainted. He’s been living on hog side till he’s near starved. So, one day he saddled up and starts prowling for something fresh. There’s lots of black-tail in the country but they have been hunted till they are shy, so after riding a while without seeing nothing he thinks he’ll have better luck afoot. So, the first park he hits, he stakes his hoss. It’s an old beaver meadow withbluejoint to his cayuse’s knees, and about the center (like it’s put there for him) is a dead cottoonwood snag handy to stake his hoss to.
“After leaving the park he ain’t gone a quarter of a mile till he notices the taller branches of a chokecherry bush movin’. There’s no wind, and Lepley knows that bush don’t move without something pushing it, so naturally he’s curious. ‘Tain’t long till he heap savvys. It’s a big silvertip and he’s sure busy berrying. There’s lots of meat here, and bear grease...
