his bearship must in popular opinion, play subordinate to his lionship.  For the sake of truth, we should like to see the Spanish arena once open for a fighting encounter between a Rocky Mountain bear and an African lion, full and native grown specimens of each.  The bull-fights all good men abhor; but, such a battle would serve to set at rest a fast-growing doubt among naturalists; and, so far, would prove available to science and the cause of truth.  We would readily stake a purse on the bear.

With the Indians of the West, who live mostly by hunting, among whom, nine out of ten would, single handed, readily face a score of native lion spearsmen and, we verily believe, put them to flight; a man is considered a great brave who, alone, will undertake to kill a grizzly bear.  If he succeeds, which is very rarely the case, his fortune in his tribe is made, once and for all.  The reputation he gains will cling to and follow him into his grave and form one of the chief burdens of the tradition which bears his name to posterity.  The Indians usually hunt and attack him in large parties; and, when the contest becomes really earnest, it requires a most immoderate amount of yelling, and fierce cry for the onset, to keep their bravery up in fighting trim.  The victory is seldom gained without the sacrifice of several lives.  The mounted hunter almost invariably finds it a difficult task to bring his charger even within shooting range of this kind of game.  On an untrained or young horse the accomplishment of this feat is next to an impossibility; for, instinct seems to teach them the true character of the game even though they approach it for the first time.[7]

[Footnote 7:  The author once saw thirty brave and determined men in pursuit of an old grizzly bear and her two cubs near the head waters of the Arkansas River.  In vain they urged their horses to the chase.  Not a single steed in the entire band could be induced to run for the game.  The old bear was quite thin and her young nearly half grown and were very fleet of foot.  The chase lasted for about three miles, but not a man present was able to obtain a shot, because their riding animals were so completely frightened as to be almost unmanageable; consequently, the bears made good their escape.  The last that was seen of them was their dim outlines as they traveled leisurely up a deep ravine.]

Darkness closed in about Kit Carson before he could reach his camp; and, indeed, the sky was so cloudy that it was with great difficulty he found his way to it.  The idea of sending out a pack animal for the elk was out of the question; therefore, the whole party went, supperless, to bed.  In the morning they breakfasted upon a beaver found in one of their traps; for, they well knew that, long before daylight, the prowling wolves had feasted upon the elk; hence, they resigned it without a visit.  The flavor of the meat of the beaver is not very palatable and the trappers rarely use it; never when they can do better.  Not so with its tail.  To this they are very partial; and, when properly boiled, it is, indeed, a great delicacy.