An Idaho guide whose services were retained by some wealthy young easterners desirous of hunting in the Northwest evidently took them to be the greenest of tenderfoots, since he undertook to chaff them with a recital something as follows:
"It was my first grizzly, so I was mighty proud to kill him in a hand-to-hand struggle. We started to fight about sunrise. When he finally gave up the ghost, the sun was going down."
At this point the guide paused to note the effect of his story. Not a word was said by the easterners, so the guide added very slowly, "for the second time."
"I gather, then," said one young gentleman, a dapper little Bostonian, "that it required a period of two days to enable you to dispose of that grizzly."
"Two days and a night," said the guide, with a grin. "That grizzly died mighty hard."
"Choked to death?" asked the Bostonian.
"Yes, sir," said the guide.
"Pardon me," continued the Hubbite, "but what did you try to get him to swallow?"
