My Sixty Years on the Plains: Trapping, Trading, and Indian Fighting (1905)

by William Thomas Hamilton

Leaving the valley Docket and I went across country, keeping a good lookout for bears, of which many signs were visible. About three miles from the trappers' camp we discovered a she-bear with three cubs passing over a ridge. Hurrying to the ridge, we saw the bears about two hundred and fifty yards away, turning over rocks in a hollow. We dismounted and crept to within one hundred yards, when Docket said, “You kill the old one." Taking careful aim I placed the bullet within an inch of the spot aimed for. She bounded forward and rolled over, with blood rushing from mouth and nostrils. Docket shot a cub, the other two running around thoroughly bewildered. We both shot again, each one getting his cub. We took the hide off the old one and packed the young ones to camp. At this season of the year a cub is the daintiest of food, and one which few mortals have an opportunity of partaking of at the present day.