Distinctly Montana Magazine

Literary Lode Department LEY���S BEA P E R L By Charlie Russell O ld man Lepley tells me one time about a bear he was near enough to shake hands with but they don���t get acquainted. He���s been living on hog side till he���s near starved. So, one day he saddled up and starts prowling for something fresh. There���s lots of black-tail in the country but they have been hunted till they are shy, so after riding a while without seeing nothing he thinks he���ll have better luck afoot. So, the first park he hits, he stakes his hoss. It���s an old beaver meadow with bluejoint to his cayuse���s knees, and about the center (like it���s put there for him) is a dead cottoonwood snag handy to stake his hoss to. ���After leaving the park he ain���t gone a quarter of a mile till he notices the taller branches of a chokecherry bush movin���. There���s no wind, and Lepley knows that bush don���t move without something pushing it, so naturally he���s curious. ���Tain���t long till he heap savvys. It���s a big silvertip and he���s sure busy berrying. There���s lots of meat here, and bear grease is better than any boughten lard. So, Lepley pulls down on him, aimin��� for his heart. Mr. Bear bites where the ball hits. It makes Old Silver damn disagreeable���he starts bawlin��� and comin���. ���As I said before, there ain���t no wind. It���s the smoke from his gun hovering over Lepley that tips it off where he���s hiding. He���s packing a Sharp���s carbine an��� he ain���t got time to reload, so he turns this bear hunt into a foot race. It���s a good one, but it looks like the man���ll take second money. When he reaches the park his hoss has grazed to the near end. Lepley don���t stop to bridle, but leaps for the saddle. ���About this time the hoss sees what���s hurrying the rider. One look���s enough. In two jumps, he���s giving the best he���s got. Suddenly something happens. Lepley can���t tell whether it���s an earthquake or a cyclone, but everything went from under him, and he���s sailin������ w w w. d i s t i n c t lymo nt a na .co m off; but he���s flying low, and uses his face for a rough lock, and stops agin some bushes. When he wakes up he don���t hear harps nor smell smoke. It ain���t till then he remembers he don���t untie his rope. The snag snapped off, and his hoss is tryin��� to drag it out of the country, and Mr. Bear, by the sound of breaking brush, is hunting a new range and it won���t be anywhere near where they met. When his hoss stops on the end of the rope, that old snag snaps and all her branches scatter over the park. I guess Mr. Bear thinks the hoss has turned on him. Maybe some of them big limbs bounced on him and he thinks the hoss has friends and they���re throwing clubs at him. Anyhow, Mr. Bear gives the fight to Lepley and the hoss. ���Lepley says that for months he has to walk that old hoss a hundred yards before he can spur him into a lope, and that you could stake him on a hairpin and he���d stay.��� Editor���s note: Charlie Russell, who loathed writing, was a natural storyteller in addition to being a superb cowboy artist. Sometimes his main motive to write was to have something to illustrate. This story appeared in Trails Plowed Under, a genuine western classic. 33

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