130 The Grizzly Bear 



the thick brush into the open timber beyond. My broken 

 ribs were not yet healed and I had my gun in my hand and 

 a camera on my back, and as it was hard work, I made no 

 effort to get through without noise. The last thing I 

 thought of was that that bear was in there. 



Upon reaching the farthest edge of the tangle I came 

 to a fallen tree that lay about four feet from the ground, 

 with the brush so thick underneath it that it was necessary 

 to climb over it. Catching hold of a limb with each hand, 

 I drew myself up, painfully enough, till my knees rested 

 on the trunk, and there, not over fifty feet up the hill 

 from me, with her fore paws planted on another log, I 

 saw a grizzly that, just then, looked to me to be about the 

 size of a cow. I made a frantic effort to get on my feet, 

 and as soon as she saw that it was not the dogs that were 

 after her, the bear started pell-mell up the hill. I had no 

 time to stand up and aim, so I fired off-hand from my 

 knees and then quickly grasped a limb to keep from pitch- 

 ing forward on my nose. I hit the bear somewhere, for she 

 rolled back against the log, but, almost instantly recovering 

 herself, again started up the mountain. I took another 

 off-hand shot and again grabbed the limb to keep from 

 falling. Again the bear rolled back, started off again, and 

 for the third time I sent a shot after her; but this time she 

 kept on up the hill, and the last I saw of her she was dis- 

 appearing round the bluffs into the timber with those fool 

 dogs now yelping in pursuit. 



And then the solution of our mystery suddenly dawned 

 on me. The bear had not fooled the dogs at all. The dogs 

 had fooled us. They were guaranteed to "run anything 

 that wore hair," and as long as the thing that wore hair 



