Story By:

Willis Cornelius Jones

brother to John Newton Jones
and the great great uncle of Jenk Stephenson

PROLOGUE

The words were written by Willis Jones in a journal. The spelling and grammar is exactly as it was written.

The date of the writings was December 1903 about events that happened in 1847, 1876, 1878 and 1884. Willis would have been 73 years of age when he wrote the following stories. He passed on to another life in March of 1908 at the age of 76.

His wife, Mary died four months after Willis sat with paper and pencil to leave a little piece of him for us to remember. Mary was 70 when she passed on.

As you will notice Willis tells a story and reflects on life as he sees it.

I hope you enjoy this little bit of family history as much as I do.

Connie Collins
Great, Great, Great Granddaughter of Willis Cornelius Jones

Chapter 1

We got to the Blue mountain about 3 or 4 oclock in the evening, camped on the north side. Next morning was cold with a big frost. We left our camp about sun up and started west on top of the mountain. I had as fine a start dog as ever urged. A start the dogs always kept in the advance senting for the trail of the bear. All at once old big my main old start dog, begin to wag his tail and squat to the ground as was his custome when he struck a hot trail. His tail was almost poping “Yankee Doodle.” I hollored out boys there is a bears trail. Mr. Jackson looked down and hollored bears. Boy it’s a bear and a big one too. And has gone this way. So I gave the word to move up and double quick, it was a warm trail.

The whole team of dogs fell into the trail in grand old style, many times yelping to the top of their voice, each one eager to be the formost on the trail. The chase lasted about four miles. I told the boys to dismount and follow the dogs on foot. For I knew we were close on the bear. My son J. H. Jones and William Jackson dismounted and followed the dogs, while the old man Jackson and I staid on our horses. We had come to where the mountains forked and didn’t know which fork the Bear would take. But in less then live minutes we heard the boys commend firing.

The old man Jackson and myself were about four yards from the seen of action. We broke with all possible speed. The bear commanced to climb a very steep and precipatus part of the mountain. The bys close up with the bear and dogs poring in broad side after him broad side. I mean they went end formost everytime at the bear.

A well trained pack of Bear dogs will bit a bear on the hind leg, some times would turn the bear around then the Bear would make a dish after another shap, this would keep the bear continuously turning around and in the fight I had one dog seriously wounded. That old Bull or he was as vicious as a tiger, and he fought to kill or be killed.

The boys got up with the bear on top of the mountain when the dogs had brought him to a stand fired on him going, giving him a glancing wound. Then the lear left the top of the mountain and came back to the food, with the dogs fighting like tigers.

I revieued the ground where the dogs fought the bear. The leaves were red with blood. The bear bleeding from wounds, the dogs bleeding from many wounds. This was a bear fight to finish. Old Brewin had whipped out, no doubt many a team of dogs licked his lacerated feet with considerable gratification. He was the chief of faush mountains and monarch of all he surveyed.

You may think Napoleon crossing the alps, or Washington at Valley Forge, or Putman running down stone step, or Willington at Water Loo. But to come in contract with a vicious bear weighing 500 pounds made mad at both ends is dangerious pastime but the beauty of bear hunting is, you as your won General Comesairy quarter master, surgen major, high priest, chief cook and bottle washer. But I must say life is beginning to drag and lose zest.

Bear hunting an experience that can scarecely happen to one who has not fell in love with nature, or become deeply interested in any of her almost infinite manifestations. My story is wholly the creation of fancy, if this book tends to bring others into sympathy with nature, one of its chief missions will be fulfilled.

A love for the soil and all the pursuits of out door life is one of the most healthful signs in people. Our broad and diversified land effords abundant opportunity for the gratification of every rural taste and those who form such taste will never complain that l ife is loseing zest. But every spring is a new revalation, every summer a fresh chapter of experience, and every autumn a fruitful taste with new hope and high aspirations of our winters hunt.

The hunter is not a brainless creature. No send effords him aid on every hand. In noumerous ways every present to those who have eyes and hearts. Capitable of recognizing it, nature is a good mother after all. In our latitude she does not over indulge her children but rewards their love. Abundanlly invigorates them if they dwell in her presence and developes mind, and mussel, heart and soul if they obey her laws and seek to know her will. Although infinitly rich she has not the short sighted of those parents who seek to place everything in the hand of a child without cost. On the contrairy she says seek what you may attain.

Every crop is prize to knowledge, skill industry. Every flower is a beautiful mystery, which may be solved in part. Every tree is stored sunshine for the heart, shelter from the storm, a thing of beauty. While it lives and varied use when its life is taken. In animals, birds, insects and vigatertion we are surrounded by disersifice life. And our life grows richer, more healthful and complicate as we enter into their lives. So I will close this chapter and give you another.

Chapter 2

This hunt was in the Choctaw Nation. My self and R. A. Jones my son who lives in Texas. (This writing Dec. 30, 1903) Our hunt was in April about the first of 1884. We camped on Big Creek. Big Creek is a tributary of Porter River and heads with on fork of the Choctaw River. Big Creek runs east between Black Fork and Rick Mts. Our Camp was near the end of Black Fork Mountain.

On one Friday early in the morning, I had taken our dogs and made a start for the north side of Rick Mountain. My son had gone down in the Nation and some buininess, and I was by myself. I hadn’t gone very far before my dogs jumped as I suppose a poor bear, and run it out of hearing, and did not come back until late in the evening. After the dogs left I went looking for Bear sign. I soon found the sign of a very large bear. I seen that he was of high size. I followed on his trail until he came to where the ground was hard and rocky, and I could follow no farther. I went back to the camp to wait the arrival of our dogs.

My son came back in the evening, I told him that I had sound the sign of a very large bear, and I thought our dogs would take his trail next morning. So next morning we callied our dogs and started for where I discovered old Brewers head quarters. He got the sign about 9 oclock.

My son asked me if we would turn the dogs loose or look for fresh sign. I told him that we would try then on the old sign for they were cold sented. So I called Tiger and put my hand down in the track, he took a good sent, then they all fell into line on the trail. Everyone opening to the top of his voice, their shrill notes would animate the most stupid.

My son broke at full speed up the mountain, he was soon to the top, while it must have taken me nearly an hour to reach the summit. When I got to the top he was about three miles ahead.

I could hear the dogs as they would raise the distant mountain, and pretty soon I heard his Winchester begin to pop. I knew he was shooting in order to encourage the dogs. It was our custom when our dogs jump a bear to fire a gun and if they were running a bear and came by we would fire a few shots. It would give our dogs a new life.

My son fired three or four shots to encourage the dogs and run to the trail to look for the bears tracks. It happened to be a rocky place, and he could find no tracks and concluded that the dogs had jumped a cat or fox. And he went back to camp.

I was on the mane range of Rick Mountain. I could hear the dogs as they would rase the high peaks. I began to take new life, for I knew those dogs would never quit that bear until they came up with him. I was on foot. You ought to have seen the old man shuffle them rocks, straighten grape vines, bounding over bushes, dodging from the over hanging brush, stopping on the highest points to see id I could still hear the dogs. I knew those dogs were looking for their master and I knew too if I didn’t break down they would soon hear the report of their masters Winchester.

I had gone four or five miles, when I heard the dogs come to the top of a high mountain and could tell they were up with the bear and the fight was on. I begin to limber up and get off and double quick. I knew of a deep gap in the mountain and was almost sire the bear would come through the gap, back on the north side of Rick Mountain. If there is anything that I understand, it is bearology fads. Sure enough old Brewer aimed to come through the gap, for the dogs were driving him to perfection, attacking him in the rear out flanking right and left changing his front.

The old dogs were tired, so was the bear. His tongue was out whin I seen him coming. Don’t take exaltantion, gratification, sweet sixteen love in August was nothing compare with my feelings. I had run until I had almost become elastic. I let the bear get in about sixty yards, I taken aim at his breast. At the report of the gun the bear commenced staggering backwards and up he came perfectly dosile and desetute of breath. I now commenced fring my gun in order to raise my son and holloring to the top of my voice, he didn’t answer. I couldn’t think what had become of him. I didn’t know he had gone back to the camp, but he had.

After waiting some tow hours I commenced to butcher the bear. Low and behold! I had no knife. I had left my knife at camp. The weather was warm, the bear hot and I knew his insides had to be taken out. I was five or six mile from camp. I knew before I could go to the camp and back my bear would be spoiled. So I thought of taking an empty cartridge shell and splitting that. I did at once. The sharpened one corner on a rock and proceeded to open his abdomen cavity and taken out his intistimes. That bear was a bouncer. I suppose he weigh near 500 pounds. He was on of the largest quality.

The fleece was about three or four inches thick. After desecting the bear I started back to the camp at five or six miles. Broke down from having traveled all told ten miles. I got back to camp about two oclock in the evening.

Found my son with his fishing tackle going down big creek. He had no thought that I killed the bear. This goes to prove that the race is not to be the swift, nor the battle the strong. But faith with work and pressure is the motto. Power in hinting as well as religion. I had more faith in those old dogs than I had in politics. The only difference I can see was that the best dogs got the Bear. And now the biggest dogs gets the office.

I used to name some of my dogs after the leading politions, but have long since quit on the account of them howling too much on a cold trail, and never treeing anything. Just like the politions are today. I am proud to say our Bear hunting was not governed by party spirit. In contemplating the causes which disturbs our hunting it occurs to me as a matter of importance that any ground that should have been furnished charatizing parties from one of the expiedits is to rquire influence within particular districts. Party spirit is incapable from our nature having its roll in the strangest passions of the mind.

Let me say of all the dispositions and habits which leas to political prosperity religion and morality are indispensable supports. In vaine would and honest man that claim talent of patroism who should labor to subvert there great pillows.

Now I see while weaked tyrants rule their subjects suffer. It is substintilly time that virtue or morality nessary, spring of popular life. This rule I indeed extend to all the advocations of life. Life is too short to waste. Our God given time in this world. However I must acknowledge that I might have used my talent to a better advantage, but as the fool dieth, so dieth the wiseman. Both are forgotten alike, and go onto the same place.

Who knows where the grave is the end of this life or the door to another. Before we fall into the dreamless sleep that kisses down our eyelids. Still while yet in love with life and raptured with the world we must too in silence and pathetic. Just the same will come to each and all no matter if every hour is rich with love and every moment jeweled with a joy. Will at last become a tragedy sad and deep and dark as can be woven. So let us be sunshine vine and flowers while we live.

I believe that happiness is the only religion. We strive in vane to look beyond the vale. We cry loud and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry. We can not tell, we do not know which is the greatest blessing, life or death. We cannot say that death is not good. We do not know where the night here is some where else a dawn.

Chapter 3

Say boys it has been sometime since we have been a bear hunting. I am going to give you another hunt that I taken in Foosh Mountain, in Scott County, Ark. I think it was December 1876 Mr. Willurtin sent me word to come to his house. He knew where there were some bears. So I got my dogs in good condition, taken a ground man with me by the name of Ford.

On the 3 rd day we camped on the south side of Foosh mountain, near the head of big brushy creek and big cedar. The first day we started a very fine bear, but lost the bear on account of the bad conduct of some dogs. On the 2 nd days hunt we stated east on the mane range of Foosh mountains. I had never been in that part of he mountain before. Everything was new and attractive. Beautiful running streams of water, high and stupendous cliffs of rocks, and beautiful water falls. And occasionly a few Evergreen cedar.

For we were passing across the head of big cedar, a stream that runs into Foosh River. The turkeys and deer, I taken no notice if them. While I was bear hunting and had my dogs with me, I didn’t shoot at anything but a bear, wolf ro panther. I kept my dogs with me under good condition, and would not let them run anything but a bear.

We had got four or five miles from camp, when my dogs struck a cold bears trail. The bear was raveling south-east. We followed him four or five miles and I seen that he was gong to the Oushata mountain, so in the evening I called doff my dogs and commenced to retrack our steps for our camp. We had not traveled more than here or four miles when my dogs struck a bears rail. All of the dogs but old Bull taken the back track, but Bull having diagnosed the trail careful, taken the right end and darted back east, and soon commenced a fierce barking. I knew from his fierce barking that he was contesting every foot of ground.

Pretty soon his fighting the bear, the other dogs not being very far off, begin to fall in good style and in the meantime I was running to the top of my speed. Don’t understand me to day that I only struck the ground in places. I struck the high and low. On double quick I got up just in time to see the last dog get into the fight. You may think hard contesled lattles, charge after charge. But when you see six or seven fierce dogs tackle a bear it is exciting.

A large bear will fight with his fore paws sometimes knocking a dog senceless at one blow. At other times they will get a dog in their hug and squeeze him death. I use to carry a long knife to save my dogs. This was before we had any Winchesters. Well you must recalect that I am still after the bear. To he is a fine bear.

The dogs stopped him on the steep side of the mountain. I got up in about fifty yards, taken dilibert aim behind his fore legs. I think I shot him thought the heart for he brought a few jumps, and up he same in the chase. I had out run Mr. Ford, and it was sometime before he came up.

After he came we taken the insides out of the bear, and rolled him into a branch or hole of water. To keep the ravins and buzzards off as well as the wolves. Just as we got our bear in the water, the rain began to fall. It was dark, cloudy, and pretty cold. I did no know what to do.

I tought of skinning the bear at one time, and trying to make a shelter out of his hide. But I didn’t think his hide would be long enough to keep us dry. So I told Mr. Ford we would try and get back to our camp. We didn’t know just how far thought it was five or six miles. We hadn’t gone far before dark came. The rain was falling thick and fst. We soon were perfectly satrucated. We then thought of trying to get fire, but tried in vaine.

The my next resolve was if possible to work our way down the mountain to the head of big brushy, and follow the branch sown to eh bigh road, some four of five miles south. But just about that time we heard a commence lowing at our camp. Mr. Wilburton had come out to our camp in order ti enjoy a few days hunt.

He and his sons got to our camp, and waited until I suppose they thought we had been caught out and could not see our way back in the dark. Which was true. I have heard all kinds of horns blow, but that was the most welcome horn that I ever toll. I have heard of he horn of salvation, the horn of alter, and the fishers horn pipe and of things being horned and killed. But that was the horn of salvation to me.

Well, Mr. Willburton and son had a big fire, my tent was stretched and all of our camp equipage was dry, and to I had two or three bottles of fine brandy. And before I set down I went to my saddle bags and taken out one bottle of brandy and drank enough to warm my corporal system dried my clothes by the fire and had a pretty good nights rest.

Next morning soon we packed our tent and other camp equipage and was in our saddles on our way back where we left our bear. Got back to the bear, found all right. Skinned him, sacked the meat and started for Oucata mountain, to try our luck in the howling mountains.

Our first day we go on the head of Mill Creek. About one quarter of a mile north of Fort Smith Road. Here we had quite an enjoyable night. We had a fine roast out of our bear meal. Nothing to disturb our peace, no carpet to soil, spit where we pleased, no etaquet to imbarres us. Our stomachs required no sauce.

If you have tried at bear hunting, it’s a dine apitizer. The change of water and seeing is a fine tonic, and too climbing the mountains, expands the lungs and chest, and gives strength to the entire muscular system.

Well now after enjoying a nights of sweet repose, we were very early in our saddles for another chase. We had just crossed the Fort Smith Road when all of a sudden my dog commenced opening in sine style. Me. Wilburton asked what I reckoned those dogs were after. I told him I did not reckon, but knew it was a bear. I was soon down to examine the trail. The ground was soft and I seen at once that he was a bear of emence magnitude and considerable ponderosity. For his tracks were vary large and indignated which denoted that he was very fat.

I mounted and keep as near the dogs as possible. But three or four miles the bear went up a bug cliff so steep and rough that we could not climb with our horses. We had to make a circutes rout in order to get to the top and when we got to the top, my dogs were out of hearing. I followed on crossing from one side of the mountain to he other, so as not to pass the dogs. I think it was near three oclock when we found the dogs. As soon as we heard them Mr. Wilburton jumped down off his horse and broke on foot. But I run my horse as fast as I could get along, and soon left he old man out of sight and had the bear dead before he came up. When I got sight, I seen the dogs had the bear in a hole, and they were almost in the act of gining on him.

I gathered up a brush, ran to the hole and drove them back to keep them from going in the hole. The hole was about five foot deep and old Brewer was standing on the bottom. I don’t think he had gone in there for his winter quarters, but to get away from the dogs. I give him one shot which brought him down. OH! What a time we had to get him out of the hole. I would have guessed him to be 500 pounds more or less. Lent four or five inches fleece on the back.

Don’t think all the bears I ever killed were large and fat, no I have killed some that were small and poor. Now the bear is dead and we have got to get him out of the hole. Now the next thing after the bear was killed was to examen the dogs to see if any of them was seriously wounded. Then I would call them by name, pat them in the heads and give them kind words of praze. And if any of them were wounded, they were tenderly cared for.

Now I could give you more regard to this hunt, but let surfise to say I am back home and will soon be out again.

Chapter 4

The next hunt I will give you is one on Arkansas River, and White River and Moroe Creek. In Dalles County Ark., me and Mr. William Mathews, now living about three miles west on the Thornton Pary Road. We started down on the Oushata River, thought we would find some game about mouth of Little Mousuri River. But we didn’t find but little game.

We camped Wileys Lake, tow or three nights. Where the owls almost cackled yankee doodle hoot, and laughed like a Negro corn shucking. So we concluded to go the White River.

Mathers said he had seen a great deal of bear sign on White River, and that was just what we wanted. So we crossed Oushata R. above Wileys Lake. Taken our course through the woods, until we could find a road going our direction.

We went through Princeton, Dallas Co. Crossed the Ark river at Pine Bluff. After passing Princeton, Dallas Co., we noticed a great many deer tracks crossing the road. So Mathews sad he thought where tracks were so plentiful he could soon kill a deer.

He told me to go on to the morrow bridge, and wait until he came up. So in about two hours he came up with a fine three snag buck. After dressing our buck and eating our dinner, we started, like Phillip and Unoc on our way rejoying.

That evening in about three miles of the Seline River, I asked an old Negro man if there was any maste in the river bottom. He said Oh! Yes, plenty of hose maste. Hose maste dis high marking across his ligs above his knees. I said to him acorns Oh! I don’t know about dat. I thought you ment cane. Just say hose maste to Bill Mathews and if he don’t laugh, I will treat to a gallon of turtle soup, or a pint of hens milk.

Well after we crossed the Arkansas River, we were told that some Bear had been using is some corn fields. We taken a few hours hunt, but the sign was too old to find Brewer. So we started for White River again. We got to White River but very little maste, but very little deer and few bear.

We staid but few days, then retraced our steps back for the morrow, in order to kill some deer on our way back. We staid with Dr. King, on Blowmeter, on the south side of the grand prairie. We stoped with him about two days and rested. He treats us like a brother in every respect.

He told us he thought is we would go sown Blowmeter we should find some game, and probably some bear. So we left his house early in the morning with the promise if we killed a bear, we would come back to his house and bring him some bear meat.

I started with my gun empty, though after we got out in the hunting ground, I would load the gun for bear, of course. We hadn’t gone over tow or three miles when I discovered a very large bear walking off to the right of the road. I said to Bill (as we always called him) Look at that bear, and broke into a run on him with my empty gun. Bill said stop, let me shoot him. I stopped, he fired at him 150 or 75 yards. He hit the bear back in the flank.

I broke in full speed on my mule. I run about one mile and came to one of our dogs. The bear had broke his thigh bone. Pore fellow. I had no time to take care of the wounded on the field of battle. But run after the bear. I soon came up with the bear, had one of my dogs down and looked like he would kill him. But the dog got loose and broke back. I think my running up saved the dog.

After the bear let the dog loose he broke. Mathes had stopped to load his gun. I knew he would be up as soon as he could some. Pretty soon Bill came up, on old Bob with his gun loaded. He gave me his gun, and taken mine to load.

Now you have heard of the grey horses come tairing out of the wilderness, but that was time the old black came tairing up in Arkansas river bottom. For old Bob was a black as a bear. I will never forget Mathews bearing his face all aglow with heat. He seemed animated to the highest degree.

He was drinking in the situation and to that gentle smile that each one of us discharging his duty to the highest Bear skill, and ability. I didn’t tell Mathews what to do nor did he ask what to so. We both acted on the spur the moment. I was running fight for four or five miles, and during hat time I in sight of the bear most all the time. And Mathews would have been if it had not been for loading the guns.

This was one of the finest bear chase that I ever seen. Well I don’t know how many times we shot the bear. I had him rolling when Mr. Mathews got in the last shot.

Now I am giving the facts just as near as I can. Think this was a bloody contest and well contested. One of our best dogs considerable lacerated one, with his broken thigh. But old Wig as usual came out unhurt.

I don’t think we a vestige of our camp equipage left on the saddle bags. Coats, blankets were scattered for four or five miles, nor not three in a pile. Well during the evening Mr. Mathews gathered up our fragments, and we carried our bear back to Dr. King. We gave Dr. King the most of the bear. We staid with him tow or three days, then recounted our camaisary department and started sown Blowmeter.

The first day our dogs treed eight cons and we didn’t count the tails that hung out of the hollow limbs. Either just the whole coon. The first night after leaving Dr. Kings we staid in gum bottom near salt blow.

The next morning Mr. Mathews killed a fine little deer. That day we got back to Pine Bluff, sold our deer and bear skin. The next day we camped on Moro, near old man Starcks. Next morning we started our for deer. Mathews hot a very fine doe, three in the gang. They run to me, I shot the same deer again and killed, and that day I killed two more making three for the days hunt. We killed forty two in all, and had twenty eight whole deer at our camp at one time.

It was the best recollection. It would be tetedious for me to give you all of the incidents of the hunt. We got thouroughly acquainted with the surrounding woods. With the different gangs of deer and their locality.

Some of the old bucks were very spry. An old buck we named broad. His horns were well set on his head and very wide. He seemed to have a vigilant eye, and acute hearing. We could not approach him on the account of his ever being on guard. And I have this to day when Mathews and the writer fails to slip on a deer, there is no use of talking.

No Indian nor expert need try. First in still hunting, you have to have the wind, second you must know where deer feeds, that is regulated by the rising and setting of the moon. Well as deer are getting scarce, suppose we go a bear hunting.

Well this was the last bear that was ever killed in Trap mountain, so far as I know. On Christmas about the year of 1878, when the fire crackers tine horns, when all of the childish sports were in bloom. When hot springs streets and red jugs was the attraction for the neighborhood.

All this had no attraction for the Ark. Bear hunter. No my great attraction was the distant mountains. I loved solitude. I loved to see the high mountain peaks, the stupendous cliffs, the deep caverns and coves. The dense thickets, the hollow with their silver streams.

I would sometimes pass gangs of dear, at other times rouste the sly fox, the wildcat, panther and wolves. Not a few, the last named my dogs would run. I always loved to kill a wolf too. I have killed several panthers.

Well, you must recolled that I started bear hunting early Christmas morning, down in the Trap mountain. I hunted the front mountain, south of the Humphreys Burrough Road. I toped the mountain about south of where Samuel Pearcy now lives, and came down west on the direction of Rush Fork Creek. And in about one half mile from the gap, my dogs struck a bears trail.

The bear had been there in the night, and the weather was extreamly cold. The ground was frozen so hard the bear left no tracks, but he dogs taken right end of the trail, and was soon down the mountain.

And I begin to think they were after a fox, they trailed close to the back of the old Buttes field. And by one house the dogs went up to the house. I rode up and asked the lady in anybody had killed a bear or deer and brought it to her home. She said no. I told her my dogs had been trailing something that I thought was a bear and they seamed to trail it up to the house and stop.

But, while I was talking with the lady one of dogs about 50 or 60 yards for the house commenced opening on the trail. The first yelp was the signal, for the dogs fell into line, lou-hoo like a Texas scyclone. Nor did I loose anytime in following close behind.

I was well mounted, and soon to the top of the mountain. And just as I got to the top the dogs raised the bear from his hiding place. Don’t talk about riding unless you could have seen me ride on that memorable day.

The chase lasted about two miles. Where the bear taken a tree. I was soon with an old single barrel rifle, half stocked, at this date such guns would be worth about fifty cents per dozen. I fired on him some 30 or 60 yards, struck him too far forward, giving him a flesh wound and down he came.

The dogs grappled with him. They had quite tussel, one very large dog caught the bear about the ear. The bear soon showed the dog that the head was the business end of bearship. After the fight the bear started again in the direction of Rush Fork with the dogs close to his heels.

I soon had my gun loaded, and rode almost in syslone speed until I was up with the bear again. When I got up with the dogs they had the bear in a cavern under a shelve rock about one mile west of Rush Fork Creek under the north side if the mountain. The dogs had the bear at bey, the bear hacked up under the cavern. Once in a while the bear would jump out at the dogs, but before I could get in a shot, he would jump back under the cliff.

The ground being so hard, that I couldn’t make any impression with my heels. All of a sudden I slipt, and skated down feet foremost, and came in a dew foot of falling on the bear with my gun in my hand. Just as I struck the bottom the bear taken a fright at my sudden appearance and made a plunge to get out. I wheeled left and fired. The bear fell and rolled down near my feet.

The dogs jumped on the bear, and we had rolling tumbling fight. The bear cought one of my dogs in his hug. I ran up and struck the bear with my gun. My gun was empty. I had no other was to save the dog. I gave him such a blow, he let the dog loose. In striking the bear I broke my gun stock into smitherines. Then grabbles up the barrel, the barrel was about thirty inches long. This brought me in close contact with the bear.

The mountain being very steep, I had to hold bushes, while I fought the bear with one hand. There was considerable danger of falling on the bear. At same time it made dogs more seviere. I had a hard time to keep the dogs off the business end of the bear. They were doing all they could to help. I can’t tell how long this fight lasted, but at least a half hour, and maybe longer.

Square John Wright, and I think Parker heard the din of battle and come to assistance. They knew it was a bear fight, but when they got to me I had the bear. As he has never shot one, I told him to shoot the bear in the hart. That he did, at once. Now the bear being dead, that night I got into John Wrights.

Staid all night. Next day went home. Well that was the last bear that was ever killed in the { note: sentence ended here. }

Chapter 5

Now I am going to give you history of the first bear that I ever killed. That was the winter of 1847. I would be glad if I could make the contrast just as it was.

The hunt was on brushy fork, a tributary of the caddo river. At that time there was but one settlement on brushy fork and that was my father, he lived at the head source. Then it was about 8 miles to the mouth of the creek, and no settlement I the creek. Then north to the casso river, from four ro five miles not a house. Then south of brushy fork not a house for 13 to 15 miles, north-west 12 miles. Due north 3 miles, west four miles. South of west 25 miles.

This territory included Highights Creek. At that time that country was a wolf howling wilderness. Then a country abounding with all kinds of game. Here the writer and Wayne Dillard my cousin taken our hunt. The first time I had ever taken a camp hunt in the good old state of Ark.

My cousin had moved down from Carrol Co Ark. And had helped to ball a few bear, and had one a s fine fighting dogs as ever bit the hind leg of a bear.

So he promised to come down on a certain day and bring his dogs and take a bear hunt. So according to promise he came down. I had located the place for use to take our hunt. And to take camp was the most desirable thing that I had ever thought of.

So early in the morning we mounted our ponies and started down brushy fork. The woods were full of deer, it was no more trouble or sight to a fine buck than it would be to jump a jack rabbit. Not no more to see a gobbler that to see a cock patridge now. Then crolan raven was plentiful, pouring forth their croken notes. At other times keen eyes eagle was commingling his shrill notes. Too the common crow was plentiful, besides the raccoon, wild cat and foxes and more particular the panthers was plentiful at that time. All of the above named was plentiful in the raidous of our hunt.

We hadn’t gone more than three miles down brushy, when we rousted the largest bear I ever saw. I was leading the way singing some little foolish song, when I noticed a bear sorter rocking off up the hill. I hollowed to my cousin to look at the cub. Jumped down and fired at him as he went up the hill, and commenced to load my gun. By the time I got my gun loaded my cousin was out if sight with the bear and dogs.

He had told me to not let the bear see me, if I did he would run. As he had the bear dogs and some experience in bear killing and so I obeyed his orderes. I got pretty close, but would not get sight of the bear. But I kept venturing up to where he seen me. Then he told me to come up and shoot the bear, for he couldn’t get his gun to fire. He had loaded his gun without powder and besides it was an old flint lock, and nearly without lock or stock.

I had a good misselloadecap lock. Well, when he told me to come up, I made things pop slash, I went over the creek. But before I got a chance to shoot the bear, he got in a bad thicket, along the creek. Hear the bear walked when old Logan would let him, but that dog was continuously catching him by the hind legs. That would cause the bear to turn around. The bear was so fat he could not run one step, and was so fat he was about exausted.

When I came I could have got in several random shots. While the bear was in the thicket, but you had just as well shoot into a Mississippi steam boat to try to sink it as to not have shot that bear in a vita spot.

Now if you never seen nor heard a team of bear dogs fighting a bear, you have no idea at the noise more like a ground hog thrasher or plaining machine. Well, I headed that bear off at the terminus of the thicket. Had my gun cocked and triggers set, just ready to shoot as soon as I could give him a dead shot. But just as soon as he got out of the thicket, he commenced to cross the creek. And just as soon as he commenced to climb the bank, my gun accidently fired up in the air.

And old Logan cought the bear by the hind leg, the bear wheeled around, caught the dog across the lions. Just then my cousin came up. I hollored look Wayne, the bear is killing your dog. He stamped the ground and hollored out, you dog gon son of a bitch. If you don’t get off I kill you in a minute. The bear plinged that dog to the bottom of the creek. The bears head and neck under water. He gave the dog several plunges to the bottom, then slung him down. Then the bear pulled him self up the bank. By that time I had my gun loaded, and I followed close after.

The bear walked about 20 steps and backed himself up beween a rock and tree, and sit down as dignified as a surpreme judge. I walked up in about 10 steps took deliberate aim, and shot him right through the heart. He came stumbling. Up he came perpectly dosile and destitute of breath.

Well, boys that was the largest bear I killed in 4 years hunting, and said to be as fat as the oldest bear hunter had seen in all of his life. That man was old uncle Bill Petajohn.

Well some of you may ask how it was that bear growed to be larger than now. Well, that is easy to account for. As I told you, at that time the country was a wilderness. In many parts there was nothing to disturb the bears peace in his socity. And again there were but few years what there was a good maste, either in the mountains or swamps.

And the old Ark hunter would no more set fire in the woods, than you would to your barn. He knew fire would ruin the maste and range, and drive the game away.

And again there were hounds running through the woods to drive game off. A deer running dog wasn’t anymore thought of than a cleaving democrator a man that would sell his vote.

Some will no doubt ask, is your old hunting companion alive? No he is laid beneath the silent sod. Well dear friends the end of all and every life, no matter if every hour is rich with love, and every moment jeweled with a joy will at its close become a tradgey as sad as can be woven, of mistiry and of death.

This brave and tender man in every storm of life was oak and rock, but in the sunshine he was vine and flower. He was friend of all heroic soles. He sided with the weak, and with a willing hand gave alms, with a loyal heart and the purest hand. He worishper of liberty, and a friend of the oppressed.

Why should man, the gem and flower of creation live harmously and usefull gladness, and then like some rich dream of beauty pass away.

I love to wander through the woods in the soft light of the day. When summer gathers up her robes of glory, let us admit mutuality all ages to all things earthy endivegulas pass away. Nations rise and decline, races become extent. Art and literature have their periods of advances and retrogration have their periods of advance. Nature has her succeeding seasons, in animal and vegetable kingdom, these are life and death. The word of the Lord abidith forever.

The end

The spectacular Ouachita Mountains of Arkansas and Oklahoma are the tallest mountains between the Appalachians and the Rockies. They rise near Hot Springs, Arkansas and stretch far across the border into eastern Oklahoma.

Time line of events that occurred on the Arkansas River in Willis’s life

1832
Snag Boat

First River Act authorizes work on Arkansas River, to maintain a channel to the mouth of the Grand ( Neosho) River, granting $15,000 for that work. Snag boats are necessary to clear debris from the river.

1833

Seventeen boats docked at Fort Gibson regularly.

Record Arkansas River Flood at Little Rock, AR.

1837

The Chickasaws came up the Arkansas River and landed at Fort Coffee on the way to their new homes in the western Choctaw lands.

1838-1839

The Cherokee on the "Trail of Tears," as the Creeks before them, come up the Arkansas on flatboats.

1844

Greatest flood of record on Arkansas River at Pine Bluff, AR.

1850

Port of Little Rock

Eighteen steamers made 115 roundtrips between Napolean (trading post on the Mississippi River at the mouth of the Arkansas) and Little Rock

However, no boat reached Fort Gibson from Little Rock this year because of low water. Boats aground at Webbers Falls were the ROLLA, WABASH VALLEY, FRANKLIN, and BEN FRANKLIN.

1855

The KNOW NOTHING (named for the Constitutional Union party whose members answered "I know nothing" when queried about their views) was launched at Little Rock. It drew only three inches of water with an empty hull, six inches when outfitted, and just two feet when fully loaded.

1857

The ROCK CITY, a steamboat of 250 tons, 127 feet long, 28 foot beam, with 16 staterooms, was launched at Little Rock. It drew only 10 inches.

1862

Confederate troops constructed an earthen fortification known as Fort Hindman, located on a peninsula bordered by the Arkansas River and two backwaters.

1863

In January, Union troops destroyed Fort Hindman and the adjacent river port town, ensuring control of the Arkansas River.

1868

River traffic in the Indian Territory and the lower Arkansas began to decline.

1870

Twenty steamboats, averaging 300 tons of cargo, plied between Fort Gibson, Fort Smith, Little Rock, and New Orleans, Memphis, St. Louis, and Cincinnati.

1871

With government assistance the Railroad industry grew to dominate interstate transportation in the United States. Railroads used the advantage of government subsidies to systematically reduce freight charges. The effect this had on waterway transportation was to either lower prices and compete, or suspend operations. This challenge combined with the already fickle nature of the river served to eliminate commercial traffic on the Arkansas.

The federal government would ultimately take action against the railroads for taking undue advantage of competitors, but this came too late to revive steamboat service on the Arkansas River.

December 25. First Katy locomotive to cross the Arkansas River.

1872

The Arkansas Gazette published an incomplete list of 117 steamboats that had been lost on the Arkansas.

1878

The AUNT SALLY, 85 feet long and 18 feet wide, left Little Rock on June 18, and arrived in Arkansas City, Kansas, on June 30. Great rejoicing in Kansas!

1880

From 1880-1905, twelve irrigation canals constructed to divert water from the Arkansas River between the Colorado state line and Great Bend. These twelve canals were intended to irrigate from 5,000 to 100,000 acres.

1881

The Army Corps of Engineers established an office at Little Rock.

1885

"The bottom too near the top." So said an owner of the KANSAS MILLER in July, 1885, when 2000 pounds of flour from Arkansas City, consigned to the Kaw Agency, had to be unloaded and hauled overland the last few miles because the river was too low.

1890

20,818 acres of land in Kansas are irrigated by Arkansas River water.

1900

From 1900-1910, irrigation wells began to be constructed in the Arkansas valley. This development occurred because of the rapid expansion of irrigation in Colorado. This expansion in Colorado caused the flow in the Arkansas River to cease during July and August when water was so sorely needed by Kansas irrigators. Well water could be obtained at depths of 6 to 20 feet. These early wells were constructed to supplement the river flows, not to replace river water.

1905

Two years before Oklahoma statehood, the Muskogee Commercial Club organized the Arkansas Navigation Company. The reasoning was that river navigation could take advantage of the oil boom in Indian Territory. The " MARY D.," was purchased and a commercial run was established between Fort Smith and Muskogee. The Commercial Club raised $15,000, and contracted the building of a 125 foot long packet. When delivered in July, 1908, she was dubbed " CITY OF MUSKOGEE." Banners on the boat boasted "Bound for Oklahoma."

1908

Flooding along the Arkansas in Tulsa. The railroads are hit hard.

1870’s map of Arkansas

Story written by W. C. Jones, father of Sara Jane Jones Jackson, Flora Malletts grandmother.

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