The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 44, July 1940 - April, 1941 Page: 17
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Two Texas Patriots
big game. One of his bedtime stories told how he and a friend
went out with their rifles to kill a bear. They came to a large
canebrake and separated, agreeing to rejoin on the other side
of the brake. After going a short distance, Grandfather saw
two beautiful cubs nestling at the foot of a tree and, fascinated
by them, he decided to take them home. Pretty soon there was
a crashing in the canebrake that announced the rapid approach
of the mother bear. Dropping the cubs, he took a steady aim
at the onrushing furious mother and fired. She continued to
come on, and as Grandfather had had only one bullet in his
rifle, his only hope of escape was to run. He was going well
until suddenly across his path he saw a huge log barring the
way. His only chance was to mount the log and jump across.
As he landed on the other side he slipped and fell into the soft
mud, and before he could get on his feet the bear was on him
and chewing at the back of his neck. In a short time a stream of
blood, which ran down over his cheek and accumulated on the
ground, convinced him that he was rapidly bleeding to death.
He was preparing for another world when a shot rang out, the
bear toppled over, and his companion appeared at his side.
Quickly dragging Grandfather out of the mud, he wiped the
clotted blood from his face and said, "Get up." Grandfather
muttered that he was too weak from loss of blood, at which
his friend exclaimed, "That's not your blood, it's the bear's."
Grandfather had broken the bear's jaw with his shot, and this
prevented her from biting him.
Grandfather often told me about the buffalo hunts in which
he took part. Between Austin and San Antonio he would fre-
quently see from a hilltop great valleys completely black with
buffalo. While out hunting one time, he lost his way. After two
or three days, the water gave out, and his thirst was so great
that he feared for his life. Having frequently killed and butch-
ered a buffalo, he remembered that the animal had a super-
numerary stomach which was filled with water and newly
cropped grass. Hastily killing an animal, he opened this stomach
with his bowie knife. He compressed the hay in the stomach with
the buffalo's tail, so the water would rise to the surface, and
greedily drank the liquid, which he assured me was pure and
These and many other exciting tales were the bedtime stories
of my early youth-tales that often had the opposite effect de-
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Texas State Historical Association. The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 44, July 1940 - April, 1941, periodical, 1941; Austin, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth146052/m1/21/?q=yaqui&rotate=90: accessed July 16, 2019), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Texas State Historical Association.