rushes, threw it on the boat and pushed out in mid-channel, and after spreading it all over the boat and ourselves, lay down on our backs. Did the ducks come? Well, they did that. As soon as a bunch came near us Wilbur commenced talking to them. No artificial call did he use, but just a quiet note coming from his throat that caused every duck in hearing to put for the decoys as though he were in a hurry. Then, when we raised up, put four barrels into the bunch about thirty yards away, and didn't get a feather, we had no need of a blind for a moment. There was a sulphurous haze floating around that boat that even a black duck couldn't see through. After mutual explanations as to how it all happened, Wilbur took a large drink of water, and settling down refused to talk until we had, to some extent, recovered our reputations.

This we did in about ten minutes, for as we were lying down in the boats, four ducks, coming from behind us, sailed over us about ten feet above the water, and were gone before we had time to shoot. A few calls from Wilbur, however, swung them around, and they settled among the decoys. Meantime my cap had slipped over my eyes, and I could scarcely see, but I did not dare move to fix it, and besides, there wasn't time. I got a glimpse of one duck; fired, and saw him coming down as I swung into the next one. He dropped, but it was too late, and my second barrel hit him fair, just as

Wilbur sang out, "Here! stop that! I've killed that duck once." When I got my cap off my eyes sure enough there lay three on the water, and the fourth was going out of sight. Just the same, our reputations had been saved. From this time on we had good shooting, principally at black. duck, a few broadbills and one old coot. When the shooting was at its best Wilbur suddenly remarked, "There goes Captain Jack in. It's sundown, and we must pull up." This was hard, but rules must be lived up to, and with a long face I put down my gun and got ready for the trip in. It was a hard pull against a hard wind, and we arrived pretty well pumped out, but happy, as we were 'high boat."

Charlie had roast duck for supper and had allowed one and a half ducks to each man. This we found to be the proper allowance, and every man took care of his share. After supper we cleaned guns, told stories and smoked till bed-time. I turned in to dream of a big bag on the morrow, as it was our intention to put out the battery and try the broadbills. I was disappointed, however, as on going outside in the morning the sloop was seen coming across. She brought a message calling me home, and my fun was over for that Spring. However, I am in receipt of an invitation to finish my shoot this Fall, and if I am alive I am going to eat one more of Charlie's dinners, tell a few more stories with Dick and Wilbur, and may help kill another duck or two.

Ta cosy little

hotel on the Massachusetts coast, situated within half a mile of one of the prettiest brant shooting sections that I have ever had the good fortune. to run against, half a dozen sportsmen were tipped back in their chairs on the piazza one evening last Spring, recounting the day's adventures, telling of the lucky shots that had fallen to their share, and of the unaccountable misses which they had made. We had all of us had a good day's shooting, and that spirit of self satisfaction, which is so true a barometer of a sportsman's frame of mind, pervaded the crowd. While one of the party was in the midst of an interesting story of personal experiences encountered the year before on these same marshes, one of the sportsmen at the ther end of the piazza came toward us, and informed us that one of the oldest big game hunters in the country had arrived that morning, and that as he was not only a hunter of wide experience, but an excellent story-teller, we would no doubt be glad to hear that he had consented to tell us of his last experience in the Teton Mountain range, which lies just south of the great Yellowstone National Park, where he had gone for the express purpose of killing a grizzly. I do not suppose that there was a member of our little group who had not either heard or read bear stories, and I venture to say that the first thought of each and every one of us was, that any bear story which might be told that evening by any bear hunter on earth, would be practically the same as we had heard, and read, time and

time again. However, as our stories of the day's adventures had about all been told, we decided to hear what there was in the bear story, and we accordingly shifted our seats to the other end of the piazza, and awaited the advent of the bear hunter.

He came out in a few moments: a man under medium stature, with small piercing eyes, prominent features, and a full, flowing, gray beard. Although small in stature, it was apparent at a glance that the man's frame had been put up for endurance, and that he was probably capable of standing more hardship and greater exertion than were a good many younger men in the party. He was introduced to us by the sportsman who had called us together, as Mr. A. B. F. Kinney, of Worcester. The introduction further informed us that Mr. Kinney had been prevailed upon to tell us of a little adventure which had fallen to his lot in the far-distant mountains of Idaho and Wyoming. Mr. Kinney acknowledging the introduction in a modest way, took his seat so as to face our party, and said: "Gentlemen, I don't know that I shall be telling you anything new, but at the request of my personal friend, Mr. H., who has heard this story, and who has assured me that it contains some features which may interest you, as sportsmen, I will, if you desire, do what I can to entertain you." The sportsman's general appearance and manner was perhaps so entirely different from that which we had expected in a bear hunter, that the expression of our desire to hear him was almost unanimous; so, settling himself back in his chair, he said:

"Although a business man, and having been engaged in business in Worcester for a great many years, I have perhaps hunted as many hours

in my life as a great many men who have lived to be much older than I am, and who have considered themselves sportsmen at that. I have shot, so far as I know, every species of game in the United States, both bird and beast. I have hunted on the plains of the far West before the Indian had been driven from what he considered his inherited landed possessions, and I have seen as many head of big game as would be represented by all the horses and all the dogs and all the sheep that exist in the territory between the city of Worcester and the city of Boston. I have seen in one herd in Montana over 50,000 head of buffalo, and I have seen in addition to that, almost as many thousands of elk and antelope. The way we estimate the number of head of game in a herd in that country, or rather the way we used to, for they now exist no more compared with the number in which they were to be found at that time, was to count a herd of antelope, for instance, and if there were seventyfive in that group, we would pick out another group twice as large, and call it one hundred and fifty, and another group half as large we would estimated at 35, and so on, until we had counted everything in sight. When I began counting game, I counted it as a tenderfoot would count it, and when I had counted up over thirty-five hundred, and began to look rather pale and exhausted, a guide found what I was doing, and put me on to the right method.

"Although I had hunted in all of the big game districts of the United States and had, as I say, killed many species of game that inhabited this country, I had not yet killed a grizzly bear, and it was in '92 that I finally made up my mind that I would not any longer be shy on this species of game. With this end in view, I joined a party of friends leaving Worcester in September of that year, and went westward as far as Idaho. Our car came to a halt at a point on

the Ogden City Short Line which ran northward from the Union Pacific at that point to the Northern Pacific. By previous arrangements we had secured our escort, and the day after we had arrived there, our outfit, consisting of nineteen horses and six guides, met us. That same afternoon we packed up and traveled northward, south of the Yellowstone National Park and into the mountains of Idaho. We had some sport en route, killing a moose, an elk, and several antelope, and the day after capturing this game we succeeded in killing a silver tip bear, weighing about six hundred pounds. This bear fell to the credit of a friend in our party, but even had it fallen to my credit, I should not have counted it as anything in my trip, for it was a grizzly, and not a silver tip, that I was after. At the end of the week we had traveled a distance of about 105 miles, and we had reached the mountain range over which we had to pass to get into the great divide between the States of Idaho and Montana. We successfully crossed this range, but met with very little, if any, game, and two days later had reached the divide. Here it began to snow, and our guides advised us that unless we wanted to stay there all Winter we had better cross the range back into Idaho. This was disappointing, but we took the guides' advice, and it was fortunate we did so, for within forty-eight hours afterward there had been a fall of three feet of snow in the divide, and it remained there until Spring. We continued in our search of game, but with only indifferent success, and as the time which we were to be absent from the car had been limited to three weeks, we soon found ourselves compelled to make preparations for our return journey.

"I cannot tell you how disappointed I felt. I had made that long trip to Idaho for the express purpose of killing just one animal, and that animal I had not been able to find. As

we got nearer and nearer the car, I got more and more blue over the matter, until finally when we had gone about half way, I determined that I would not return without accomplishing my purpose. Consequently, that night I went to our head guide, a man whose name was Bishop, and a man of years of experience in hunting in that district, and I told him I wanted him to take the party back to the car and return to me with a sufficient outfit to see us through, as I was going to stay in the mountains all Winter, if necessary, to accomplish my purpose. The guide readily consented, and next morning I advised my friends of my intention. They had no hesitancy in expressing their doubts as to my sanity; they assured me if I went up into those mountains where the snow had been known to pile itself to a height of thirty and forty feet, that I would be lost, and that in all probability my friends would never hear what had become of me. Notwithstanding,' said I, 'I am going, and that settles it,' and when they saw that they were unable to dissuade me, they asked if they could do anything for me at the car. 'Yes,' said I, 'I am going to send a note to my wife by the guide;' then, said I, 'I want you to buy what supplies I need, pack them on these horses and send them back here to me.' So I said goodbye to my friends, and they departed. When they left me and pushed on down that mountain, leaving me alone, I will confess I felt just a bit fainthearted. However, the guides returned at the end of three days. In the note which I had given the guide for my wife, I asked her to send me $200 to pay my guides for services and what other expenses I might have, into the mountains. When he and my companions reached the point at which we had left our car, they found it had moved on to a town some miles away, and my companions not knowing the contents of my note, the guide brought it back unopened, and

I found myself in the mountains with just four dollars in my pocket. However, I had my supplies, and I felt I would be able to take care of money matters in some way after I had returned from my trip, if I succeeded in returning. The same day that the guides returned, we packed up and headed southeast, skirting Yellowstone Park, and finally entering the Teton range, which is a direct spur of the Rocky Mountains. This district I knew to be a good one for bear of the kind I was after.

"As we entered the mountains, the nights grew very cold, while the days were very warm. We saw but little trace of game for some days, and although finally I ran against the track of a small grizzly, and later on got sight of the bear as he made off down the mountain, he was too small to be meat for me, and I should not have considered that I had accomplished my end, even had I killed. him. So we kept on pushing into the mountains, until finally we struck a point where the guide said we should certainly find bear if there were any in that country. Each afternoon, Bishop and myself would mount our ponies and go off into the mountains. Day after day we returned disappointed, until finally one afternoon, while riding along on my pony, I saw something in the snow which caused me to pull the broncho back on his haunches in a manner that must have surprised him. It was a bear track, I saw at a glance, and evidently a big one. I dismounted, and put my hand in the snow alongside the track; I saw that the fresh impression of my hand corresponded almost exactly with that of the bear track, and thus determined to my satisfaction that the track was a fresh one. I called to Bishop, who was a little further down the mountain side, and he joined me. Bishop looked at the track and agreed with me that it was not only a grizzly but a big one.

"Now,' said he, 'Mr. Kinney, if