s become settled his haunts have become
contracted, but even now, as the writer just quoted assures us, he is
still found in great numbers in the Coast Range Mountains from San Diego
to Del Norte. In describing Samson, a famous specimen once on exhibition
in San Francisco, we are told that "his strength was that of an
elephant, and his claws, eight inches in length, curved like a rainbow
and sharp as a knife, would enable him to tear open anything made of
flesh and blood as you or I would open a banana."

Such was the new acquaintance who confronted Mr. Onthank, and barred
his progress.

"Jerusalem!" ejaculated the surprised and dismayed Yankee, and he
instinctively felt for his rifle. But, alas! he had left it in the camp.
It was thoughtless and imprudent to venture out unarmed; but the scene
was so quiet and peaceful that no thought of danger had entered the mind
of our unlucky friend.

The bear sat upon his haunches, and stared at the intruder. Ebenezer,
brought to a stand-still, returned his gaze. They were less than a
hundred feet apart, and the situation was decidedly critical.

"I guess he wants to chaw me up for his breakfast," thought Ebenezer,
despairingly, "and I don't see what I can do to prevent it."

The bear, however, seemed in no hurry to commence the attack. He
surveyed our Yankee with dignified gravity, conscious that he had him at
advantage. When Ebenezer felt for his rifle he uttered a low growl,
being possibly aware of his purpose. Possibly he laughed in his sleeve
(some of my young critics may suggest that bears have no sleeves) at his
failure.

Ebenezer looked about him despairingly. No man will surrender at
discretion to a grizzly, for he can hope for no mercy. But what could be
done? Once subjected to the terrible hug, and the life would be crushed
out of him in less than a minute.

"If Ferguson and Tom were only here!" thought poor Ebenezer.

But the camp was at least two miles away, and his two companions,
unconscious of his terrible peril, were calmly sleeping, and not likely
to awaken till he was a crushed and bleeding corpse.

In great crises the mind travels rapidly. I shall not attempt to record
the thoughts that chased one another through the mind of the luckless
adventurer. But they were by no means pleasant.

"I shall never see Green Mountain Mills again," he thought, with an
inward groan. "I shall never marry Susan Jones, or eat any of marm's
nut-cakes. If I only had my ri