Rocky Mountain Sam — page 26: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

> ROCKY MOUNTAIN SAM. 17 a breath of air stirring, and Jand just in the right place, Easy there. ‘Throw out that other sand-bag, Sam, or we'll scrape them pinetops.” Sam obeyed orders, and, indeed, their situation seemed critical enough as they went sweeping slowly on, now high over acanon or valley again, nestling deep down at the feet of inaccessible ridges, now all but dashing their frail car against some bold old monarch of the Sierras, white with snows that have not melted from its brow for countless ages, and then again almost plunging into the tossing, storm-. scarred trees that fringed the verge of some precipice of un- known depths; it was, “indeed, a wild, an awful voyage. Once, as they were approaching the crest of a lofty ridge, Sam, who was looking forward a little more keenly than his comrade, directed his attention to.an enormous grizzly bear that was seated upon his haunches on the apex of a lesser cone, right in’ their path, and apparently eying their in- trusion upon his domain with an air of indignant protest. ‘Shall we hook him with the grapnels, for a joke, pro- fessor?” cried Sam. “Ay, ay!” was the reply; ‘‘you drop that one with the long rope, and I'll fly for him with the anchor.” No sooner said than done. As the basket swung slowly over the bear’s head, about fifteen or twenty feet from the ground, Sam dropped the grapnel and dextrously hooked him under the lower jaw, half lifting him from his feet, but at the same time bringing the balloon to a stand-still. Almost simultanéously the sharp-fluked anchor, which Max had lowered, took firm hold of one of the bear’s haunches, in apping him up, rolling him over, and causing him to roar bellow with rage and pain. hus the balloon was securely anchored toa bear, and kept surging and flapping around about twenty feet from the sround, to the considerable discomfort of the occupants of the ear, and no doubt to the consternation and bewilder- ment of bruin. “Hurrah!” cried Sam, whose hunter’s blood was up. ‘Loan me your revolver, professor, till J give him a crack.” Mad Max handed him a six-shooter, which he drew from somewhere in his yoluminous robe. Sam leaned over the car, and began banging away, putting ball after ball into the carcass of the bear, who bellowed with rage. At last, however, his natural sagacity came to his ald; and Comichoo cS co m