It was late afternoon with the sun sunken low behind the high surrounding hills. A single line of dusty, trail worn trappers trudged slowly through the brushy bottom, leading their pack horses down the valley in search of water and a place to camp.

They were tired and thirsty -- and most of all longing for the sounds and smells of a fine wood fire and fresh fish frying on a pan beside a singing stream.

Sudden Grizzly Greetings
The grizzly came down from the hills and struck at the center of their line, chasing the horses into the brush. Before the men could retrieve their rifles from the saddles of their scattered mounts, the massive beast tore himself from the thicket and ran parallel to the line and to its front. There the bear came face-to-face with Captain Jedediah Strong Smith.

The grizzly didn't hesitate a moment but sprung on the captain, taking him by the head and smashing him to the rocky ground. Smith fought like a wildcat to loose his butcher knife from its scabbard, but the bear took his head in its monstrous mouth and tore at his middle with both of its awful paws.

The Bear Wouldn't Quit
The grizzly's great grip snapped the captain's knife and several of his ribs all at the same time. Jim Clyman had his gun handy by then, but he was afraid that the captain was already a near done man.

Clyman put a bullet into the bear's big stomach, and that pulled the beast off the captain -- but it didn't stop its rage. Ed Rose fired a slug into its head, and it went down. Then a few more of the men shot it again. You can't trust a grizzly to die until you hit it four or five times -- and then you better not turn your back too soon either!

But the captain just lay there looking up as calm as can be. No moaning, no cursing, no rage as would have come from the rest of his men if they'd had their heads nearly bitten off by a mountain bear. "Boys," Smith said as he caught his breath, "you gotta fix me up!"

"Take hold of the captain," said Clyman to Thomas Fitzpatrick, who was bending down over the wounded man, "and we'll carry him to water."

But nobody wanted to move him, he was hurt so badly. So they asked him what was best. "Go for water," Smith said. "And if you've got a needle and thread, get it out and sew up my wounds."

Instant Surgeons
His head was bleeding like a river runs, and none of the party knew anything about surgical matters, but they had to do something. So Clyman got out a pair of scissors, cut off Smith's hair, and began his first job of dressing wounds.

The bear had jawed down close to Smith's left eye on one side and close to his right ear on the other and had laid the skull bare nearly to the crown of his head. One of his ears was torn from his head and barely hanging on. And there was James Clyman of Virginia with one big old needle and some black thread!

Clyman stitched him up as best he could, while the captain gave directions himself. The ear was last of all.

"I can't do it, Jed," Clyman protested. "It's too torn up."

They Even Saved the Ear
"Oh, you must try to stitch it up some way or other," Smith said. And so Clyman put the needle in and stitched that ear through and through, laying the lacerated parts together as nice as he could. When it was done, the captain was able to get up and mount his horse. They rode about a mile from there to the water they'd found and pitched their camp. With only one tent, Smith was made as comfortable as circumstances would permit.