I was a small boy then, and the bear, probably thinking I'd be a mouthful for him anyway, began to come after me in a leisurely way.

I can see myself now going through those woods hat gone, jacket flying, arms out, eyes rolling over my shoulder every little while to see if the bear was gaining on me.

He was a benevolent-looking old fellow, and his face seemed to say, 'Don't hurry, little boy.' He wasn't doing his prettiest, and I soon got away from him, but I made up my mind then, that it was more fun to be the chaser than the chased.
"Another time I was out in our cornfield, and hearing a rustling, looked through the stalks, and saw a brown bear with two cubs.

She was slashing down the corn with her paws to get at the ears.

She smelled me, and getting frightened, began to run.