After its windpipe was severed, the bear made a louder noise than
ever, but not knowing the cause, I thought he was nearer me and I
strained every nerve and fibre of my body to widen the distance
between us, as I almost imagined his teeth clashing down on me,
while Johnnie West was yelling: "Run, Willie; run for your life!"
Well I rather think I was running some about that time, for just
then I came to a big log, and I jumped, climbed and fell over it,
in fact, I never knew exactly how I did get over it; however, I
fell on one side of the log, utterly exhausted, and the bear, not
being able to get over, fell on the other side and died.
Of all the hunting and Indian fighting I have ever done, I never
had anything to scare me as did that little, insignificant bear.
Charlie Jones, hearing the two shots and Johnnie yelling for me to
run, came to the scene and had no little fun with me for running
from so small a bear, saying: "If a little bear like that were to
come at me, I would take it by the tail and beat its brains out
against a tree."
By the time the boys got the bear dressed, I had recovered
sufficiently from my run and excitement to help carry the meat to
the cabin, which was only a few rods away, as in our foot-race we
had been running in direction of the camp. The boys had a great
deal of sport at my expense, and many times during the winter I
was reminded of the bear hunt, in which the bear hunted me.
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