"What was
that you were telling me about Jameson's bears, Bruce?"
"Jameson lived up in the Kootenay country," said Bruce. "Reg'lar hermit, I
guess you'd call him. Came out of the mountains only twice a year to get
grub. He made pets of grizzlies. For years he had one as big as this fellow
we're chasing. He got 'im when a cub, an 'when I saw him he weighed a
thousand pounds an' followed Jameson wherever he went like a dog. Even went
on his hunts with him, an 'they slept beside the same campfire. Jameson
loved bears, an' he'd never kill one."
Langdon was silent. After a moment he said: "And I'm beginning to love
them, Bruce. I don't know just why, but there's something about bears that
makes you love them. I'm not going to shoot many more--perhaps none after
we get this dog-killer we're after. I almost believe he will be my last
bear." Suddenly he clenched his hands, and added angrily: "And to think
there isn't a province in the Dominion or a state south of the Border that
has a 'closed season' for bear! It's an outrage, Bruce. They're classed
with vermin, and can be exterminated at all seasons. They can even be dug
out of their dens with their young--and--so help me Heaven!--I've helped to
dig them out! We're beasts, Bruce. Sometimes I almost think it's a crime
for a man to carry a gun.
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