The Argosy, November 1908 — page 35: what you’re looking at

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

BY BULLET PERSUASION. Four times my repeating rifle let out its voice, and as many or more shots came from them. I could hear their bullets strike the rock. I could also see the effect of my own shots. At the third, one of the four fell forward on his face, and at the fourth another sat down suddenly and began to examine his leg. But it seems there is a reserve wisdom in these fellows. Seeing that I was backed by a stone wall, and sheltered in front by a rock that completely hid me except when I peeped up to shoot, the two who had not been wounded, or, at least, not wounded enough to bring them down, now turned and ran. I could have shot them even as they fled. But as they were going up-stream, and, therefore, not in the direction I wished to go, I could see no reason why I should kill them. I ran to where the least wounded of the three was seated and grabbed up his gun, which was an old Mexican weapon once used by the army of that republic. Then, as he looked at me with murder- ous hate gleaming from his eyes, I picked up the other two guns. I had killed the first one I had fired at. But I knew the one who was mut- tering and nursing his leg was able to do all that was necessary for his com- rades, so I went on down-stream. I had plenty of ammunition for my own repeater, and when I found a con- venient spot, I hammered the three old Mexican guns out of commission. Then, with my own well-tried and trusty rifle again fully loaded, I went on. And I went as fast as possible. In truth, this was not very fast. The stream at the bottom of the gorge out- did the gorge itself in eccentricity, and zigzagged from right to left and from left to right in such a way that about half the time I was wading or making some sort of bridge or ford. Nevertheless, I did get ahead, and heard no more of the Yaquis I had left behind. Of water to drink there was plenty, but I was hungry. Fighting Yaquis makes one forget his appetite for a time, but the gorge was so peaceful and quiet, except for the noise of the running stream, that it was difficult to remember 601 that only a short time before the cafion had reechoed with rifles fired in deadly combat. I felt no fear of immediate trouble. I doubted that the sound of a rifle would go very far outside the gorge, even if it went beyond the top at all. There- fore, I was prepared to shoot whatever I might see that was good to eat. After perhaps half an hour more of my laborious march, keeping a constant watch for food in some shape, I spied a bear sitting on his haunches on a rocky ledge. Behind him there seemed to be a cave opening. He saw me. In his slow, ungainly way, he turned and began waddling toward the cave. I fired quickly and hit him. But he remained on the ledge. The next thing was to get him. It was a difficult climb to the ledge. But the sight of food ready to be cooked and eaten will take a hungry man up almost any, kind of rocky wall. I was bending over my victim, feel- ing more pleasure than over the killing of a Yaqui, when there was a growl be- hind me, and a larger bear rushed from the cave with a pecular sliding noise, and clasped me from behind. He was a powerful fellow, and the shock almost carried him and me over the ledge. I had fallen to the bottom of the gorge once without serious injury, but those things happen so seldom I felt no desire to try it again, even with a bear for company. My rifle had been knocked from my hand at the impact, and I could not get my hand into my pocket for my pistol. But, like many others who lived near the border, besides carrying a rifle and small revolver, I had, in a belt around my waist under my jacket, a long knife to be used in preparing carcasses of animals killed for food. I managed to get this in my right hand, and then tried to twist myself to drive it into some vulnerable part of my hairy adversary. It was not an easy thing to do. As a matter of fact, I didn’t do it. I hacked away at his paws, which merely made him more angry. My breath was being crushed out of me, and I must do something very soon, or this would be my finish. COMIC OOOKS.COM :