We were about to return home, when our attention was attracted by a terrible noise in a rocky cañon, about four hundred yards lower down the river. Hastily remounting, we galloped to the place, and after having dismounted, approached the cañon with caution. Suddenly we came upon a very exciting and interesting scene. A very large lion, probably the one of which we were in pursuit, was engaged in deadly conflict with a well-developed brown bear. The lion was crouched down about twelve feet from bruin, and the bear was standing erect on his hind legs, his forearms protruded, and his back against a large rock. His cries were piercing, and to them we owed the pleasure of being present at the combat, which quickly began. The lion watched his adversary with intense gaze, his long and sinewy tail working and twisting like a large wounded serpent. His formidable claws occasionally grappled the rocks and gravel, and every now and then he would exhibit his terrible teeth and utter a low but significant growl. Having reached the sticking point, the lion leaped forward with a fearful rush and grappled the bear. Then commenced the most frightful cries from both fur, dust and blood flew from each combatant in quantities; biting, tearing and hugging were indulged without stint. After about two minutes of this terrific strife, the lion suddenly released himself and sprang away. Each animal then commenced to lick its wounds, the lion having re-occupied his former position in front of the bear, and evidently bent on "fighting it out on that line if it took all summer." The bear was decidedly anxious to get away, but did not dare turn his back on his more agile adversary. After some ten minutes spent in licking their wounds and repairing damages, the lion reassumed the offensive, and the bear again placed himself on the
