96 The Grizzly Bear 



country, very rapid and very cold. Its banks and bed are 

 lined with large boulders, and the water makes a tremen- 

 dous noise in running over them. Our camp was on a 

 narrow strip of flat land that paralleled the river for half 

 a mile, and ran back two or three hundred yards to the 

 foot of the mountain. Just above us the Clearwater 

 made a turn almost at right angles, and in the bend, on a 

 little patch of open ground, with two large trees in the 

 centre, the Indians for years had made their camp, and 

 the place was marked by piles of refuse and by their racks 

 or scaffolds for drying meat. 



After unpacking our horses, I sauntered up to this 

 opening to see if the Indians had left any elk antlers — they 

 hardly ever carry them away — and the bulldog trotted 

 after me. As I emerged from the bush I saw, behind a 

 bunch of bushes and near the drying racks, what at first 

 I took to be a black stump. Remembering, however, that 

 I had camped at this place many times, and had never 

 seen a stump there, I took a closer look and saw that it was 

 an old bear gnawing the discarded bones. The animal was 

 so dark in color that I supposed it was a black bear, and 

 determined to tree it for the doctor or Adams to shoot. I 

 had no weapon of any sort with me, as I had taken off my 

 belt in unpacking the horses and had thrown it, with my 

 hatchet, on the ground, and had left my rifle standing 

 against a tree. I had, however, no idea of killing the bear, 

 and even had I had my gun, would not have robbed the 

 others of their opportunity. 



The bear was near the two trees, and I thought there 

 would be no trouble in putting him up one of them, so call- 

 ing to Jim, the dog, to "sic 'em," I started toward him. 



