e moon a lynx is killed in the highest zone of the Smokies, up among
the balsams and spruces, where both the flora and fauna, as well as the
climate, resemble those of the Canadian woods. Our native hunters never
heard the word lynx, but call the animal a "catamount." Wolves and
panthers used to be common here, but it is a long time since either has
been killed in this region, albeit impressionable people see wolf tracks
or hear a "pant'er" scream every now and then.

I had shivered on the mountain top for a couple of hours, hearing only
an occasional yelp from the dogs, which had been working in the thickets
a mile or so below me, when suddenly there burst forth the devil of a
racket.

On came the chase, right in my direction. Presently I could distinguish
the different notes: the deep bellow of old Dred, the hound-like baying
of Rock and Coaly, and little Towse's feisty yelp.

I thought that the bear might chance the comparatively open space of the
Fire-scald, because there were still some ashes on the ground that would
dust the dogs' nostrils and throw them off the scent. And such, I
believe, was his intention. But the dogs caught up with him. They nipped
him fore and aft. Time after time he shook them off; but they were true
bear dogs, and, like Matt Hyde after the turkey, they knew no such word
as quit.

I took a last squint at my rifle sights, made sure there was a cartridge
in the chamber, and then felt my ears grow as I listened. Suddenly the
chase swerved at a right angle and took straight up the side of
Saddle-back. Either the bear would tree, or he would try to smash on
through to the low rhododendron of the Devil's Court House, where dogs
who followed might break their legs. I girded myself and ran, "wiggling
and wingling" along the main divide, and then came the steep pull up
Briar Knob. As I was grading around the summit with all the lope that
was left in me, I heard a rifle crack, half a mile down Saddle-back. Old
"Doc" was somewhere in that vicinity. I halted to listen. Creation,
what a rumpus! Then another shot. Then the warwhoop of the South, that
we read about.

By and by, up they came, John and Cope and "Doc," two at a time,
carrying the bear on a trimmed sapling. Presently Hyde joined us, then
came Granville, and we filed back to camp, where "Doc" told his story:

"Boys, them dogs' eyes shined like new money. Coaly fit agin, all right,
and got his tail bit. The bear div down into a sink-hole w