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So, with me head still under the blanket, for I dassn't peep out, I sings out to the Injun an' asks him what in creation he's kickin' me for; an' if he couldn't wake me without killin' me. Old-pot-head's son yells back that he hasn't touched me. Then you bet I was scared; for the thing hauls off agen an' gives me a clout that knocks the wind plum' out o' me.
I just reaches in an' pulls out some busted bannock an' throws a chunk over to Old-pot-head's son, an' without even sayin' grace, we starts in. Every little while I'd toss another chunk of bread over to me pardner an' just out o' sheer spite I'd chuck it so that it would go sailin' thro' the air right in front o' the bear's snout. That makes him mad.
Then, you bet, I couldn't make him laff no more; for, what with shammin' dead, an' bein' frightened to death into the bargain, I don't think there was much laff left in him. "You know how bears will act when they sometimes comes across a handy log? Well, that's just what the beast was doin' with Old-pot-head's son it was rollin' him over an' over.
However, I'll try and tell you 'bout me an Old-pot-head's son; an' to my mind it's the most serious of 'em all. "As I was sayin', we was in charge of the Peace River packet; an' if it hadn't been for the charm Father La Mille blessed for me at Fort Good Hope, I don't know 's I'd be here to tell about it. "Anyway, me an' Old-pot-head's son was carryin' the packet and headin' for Hudson's Hope.
So between the two of us we managed to hang on to the packet. "By-an'-by, we was gettin' terribly tuckered out. It was a good thing for us that the bear was gettin' winded an' dizzy as well; because, at about the sixty-seventh roun', the brute had no sooner gone down the birch than he bounded up agen just when Old-pot-head's son was a-climbin' thro' the upper branches o' the birch.
Before I turns in for the night, I takes the packet an' sticks it on the end of a long pole, an' shoves it up against the birch tree, for fear o' the fire spreadin' an' burnin' up the mail. "Me an' Old-pot-head's son turns in an' sleeps as sound as any trippers could. Some time in the night I wakes up with a mighty start that almost busts me heart. Somethin' was maulin' me.
"Just as soon as I was safe, the whole performance struck me as bein' pretty funny, an' I couldn't help roarin' out and a-laffin' when I saw the beast maulin' Old-pot-head's son, an' him tryin' for all he was worth to play dead. "Thinks I, I'll make me old friend laff. So I starts in to guy him, an' he begins to snicker, an' that makes the bear mad, an' he begins to roll the Injun.
"At last, when me an' Old-pot-head's son had about given up hope, an' was just pickin' out which would be the easiest death, what should we see but somethin' bobbin' in an' out among the bushes. Say, it was another bear! When it comes a little closer, we makes out it was a little lady bear.
We took turns at carryin' the packet, but sometimes I noticed Old-pot-head's son was havin' a good deal of trouble with it. It didn't seem to bother him much when he was climbin' up; for he just swung it on his back with the loop o' the tump-line over his head, an' so he had his hands free.
"Now me an' Old-pot-head's son knowed well enuff we had to save the mail-sack, so I slips down the east pine a ways, an' breaks off dead branches, an' pelts them at the bear while the Injun crosses over into the top o' the west pine. Then we both at once slides down as low as we dares, an' I begins to lamm the brute with a shower o' sticks.
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