Trailing 83 



where the bear had struck at the flying marmots. One of 

 these latter had evidently succeeded in making the out- 

 side, but the tracks of the bear showed where he had fol- 

 lowed in hot pursuit, and a smear of blood on the snow 

 marked the end of the little fellow's dash for life. After 

 killing and eating this one, the bear had returned to the 

 marmot den and devoured the remaining marmots already 

 killed; after which he had come out, walked around for 

 a while, and then struck out again in search of more 

 provender. 



For a mile or more he had now kept along the same 

 ridge, then turned to the right, crossed the divide, and 

 made off down the side of the mountain, without stopping 

 until he had crossed the bottom and was well up the 

 opposite slope. On this ridge he had stopped and taken 

 another nap, and I knew that he was now but a short dis- 

 tance ahead of me, for, although it was well along in the 

 afternoon, and the snow had become so soft that it would 

 pack, it had not melted any in the bear's trail since he had 

 left his resting-place. 



The question was, could I catch up with him before 

 night ? To do it would require all the caution and skill 

 I possessed, for it was evident from his movements that 

 I was dealing with a bear of the "old school." 



The animal now kept along the ridge for several miles, 

 going back in the direction from which he had come the 

 night before. There was apparently no wind, but I was 

 taking no chances on this score, and whenever I came to 

 a patch of bushes or timber, I made a detour up the moun- 

 tain to a point where I could see well below me, and then 

 circled until I had found where the bear had passed. 



