The skin, which weighed over one hundred pounds, was taken to Bakersfield, and the meat that had not been spoiled by bullets was cut up and sold to butchers and others.  Estimating the total weight from the portions that were actually tested on the scales, the butchers figured that Pinto weighed 1100 pounds.  The 1800 and 2000-pound bears have all been weighed by the fancy of the men who killed them, and the farther away they have been from the scales the more they have weighed.

There is no other case on record of a bear that continued fighting with a smashed skull and pulped brains, although possibly such cases may have occurred and never found their way into print.  Gleason saw Old Pinto shortly after the fight and examined the head, and there is no reason to doubt his description of the effect of the bullets.

CHAPTER XIX.

Three in A boat.

The Cascade Mountains in Oregon and Washington Territory are full of bears, and as the inhabitants seldom hunt them, the animals are disposed to be sociable and neighborly and wander about close to the settlements.  Harry Dumont and Rube Fields had a very sociable evening with a black bear at the Upper Cascades on the Columbia some years ago.  They were crossing in a boat above the falls, when Dumont, sitting in the stern, pointed out what he said was a deer, swimming the river, about a hundred yards away.  Rube bent to the oars and pulled towards the head that could just be seen on the water, intending to give Dumont a chance to knock the deer on the skull with a paddle and tow the venison ashore.  When the bow of the boat ran alongside the head the supposed deer reached up, caught hold of the boat and clambered aboard without ceremony.  It was a black bear of ordinary size, but it was large enough to make two men think twice before attacking it with oars.  The bear quietly settled himself on the seat in the bow of the boat and looked apprehensively at the men, who were so astonished that they did not know whether to jump overboard or prepare for a fight.  As the bear made no hostile movement they decided not to pick a quarrel.  The boat meanwhile had drifted down stream and got into swift water, and Rube Fields saw that he must row for all he was worth to avoid going over the falls, which would be sure death.  The bear seemed to realize the danger and acted as though he was uncertain whether it were better to stay aboard or take to the water again.

“Pull! pull for the shore!” urged Dumont, in a hoarse whisper, and Rube bent to the oars with all his muscle, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the silent passenger in the bow.  The bear kept one eye suspiciously on the men and the other on the distant shore, and gave every indication of great perturbation of spirit.  It was a hard pull to get the heavily-laden boat out of the current, but Rube finally accomplished it and rowed into safer