Washington Irving's Astoria - John Day and the Grizzly

In Oregon we have two (count them, two) rivers called the John Day River (one's tiny, one's semi-major), a John Day Fossil Beds National Monument, a John Day Dam (we share it with Washington), a town called John Day, and (not too far down Highway 26 from there) a town called Dayville, which is also named for John Day, the early explorer. There used to also be more than one railroad station named for John Day, but stuff kept winding up at the wrong destination, so that situation got fixed.

John Day is perhaps best known for going stark raving mad after he and Ramsay Crooks were left stranded with nothing (no clothes, even) by Indians (it's a long story; and to be fair, other Indians saved them); but before he went nuts John Day was a popular and valuable member of the band under Wilson Price Hunt that was sent cross-country by John Jacob Astor in 1810 to find a workable overland route to the Pacific.

John Day, at a well-worn forty (give or take a year), was old for an "Astorian" but he was a renowned hunter and he was loyal and gutsy and kept an eye out for both trouble and solutions. And, as it happens, he had a knack for the sort of accomplishments that endear certain people to pioneers, would-be pioneers, and Westerners of a certain slant. From Astoria, by Washington Irving, is this much-loved tale:

While on this theme we will add another anecdote of an adventure with a grizzly bear, told of John Day, the Kentucky hunter, but which happened at a different period of the expedition. Day was hunting in company with one of the clerks of the company, a lively youngster, who was a great favorite with the veteran, but whose vivacity he had continually to keep in check. They were in search of deer, when suddenly a huge grizzly bear emerged from a thicket about thirty yards distant, rearing himself upon his hind legs with a terrific growl, and displaying a hideous array of teeth and claws. The rifle of the young man was leveled in an instant, but John Day's iron hand was as quickly upon his arm. "Be quiet, boy! be quiet!" exclaimed the hunter between his clenched teeth, and without turning his eyes from the bear. They remained motionless. The monster regarded them for a time, then, lowering himself on his fore paws, slowly withdrew. He had not gone many paces, before he again returned, reared himself on his hind legs, and repeated his menace. Day's hand was still on the arm of his young companion; he again pressed it hard, and kept repeating between his teeth, "Quiet, boy! - keep quiet! - keep quiet!" -though the latter had not made a move since his first prohibition. The bear again lowered himself on all fours, retreated some twenty yards further, and again turned, reared, showed his teeth, and growled. This third menace was too much for the game spirit of John Day. "By Jove!" exclaimed he, "I can stand this no longer," and in an instant a ball from his rifle whizzed into his foe. The wound was not mortal; but, luckily, it dismayed instead of enraged the animal, and he retreated into the thicket.

Day's companion reproached him for not practicing the caution which he enjoined upon others. "Why, boy," replied the veteran, "caution is caution, but one must not put up with too much, even from a bear. Would you have me suffer myself to be bullied all day by a varmint?"