Ben Lilly: survivor

The great bear must have had some sense of the uniqueness of this approaching enemy. He must have learned something of man to live so long and grow so large feasting on his cattle. Past experience must have taught him he was pretty safe when he made the timber and could relax on the far side of the hill. But he hadn't lost this man in the timber, nor in the hills. For three days the man had hounded him through some of the roughest mountains in Arizona. And three times he had gotten close enough to put a rifle slug into his flank.

As the man and dog, bound together by a strand of rope and a common predatory instinct, struggled toward him through the waist-deep snow, the bear waited. No more running. Now he would fight. The gunshot wounds may have sapped some of his strength, but his rage would overcome that. He lay there in the thick brush, muscles tensed, fangs and claws poised to exact a fierce vengeance. He was 9 feet from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail, and every ounce of his being was tuned to one purpose -- to kill. Read more