Flash-Lighting Grizzlies 175 



branch, probably during our retreat, and the incident, 

 costly as it was, taught us a lesson that we never forgot. 

 Indeed, from this time on we almost invariably handled 

 our cameras from the branches of some convenient tree, 

 thus guarding against any necessity of changing our 

 positions unexpectedly, and we took great care and con- 

 siderable pains in so running our strings that they were 

 sure to work smoothly when needed. We got no other 

 shot this night, and returned to camp, feeling that we had 

 lost the chance of our lives. 



The next night we again went after this old bear, but 

 she did not put in an appearance; and the third night, 

 feeling that Kerfoot was now able to handle that part of 

 it himself, I left him in charge of the flash-light apparatus, 

 and stationed myself, with a natural-history camera, in a 

 tree by the little open glade where we had first seen the 

 old bear and her cubs. 



About seven o'clock she made her appearance, but, 

 instead of going on down the trail toward where Kerfoot 

 was waiting for her, she and the cubs stopped to dig roots 

 at the side of a small marsh. I now understood why we 

 had not seen her the night before, and while she offered 

 me several opportunities for long-distance shots with my 

 hand camera, I refrained from risking them in hopes that 

 she would ultimately move on in the right direction. 



It was just beginning to get dark when I saw a medium- 

 sized bear come up the trail from the direction of the flash 

 camera, and when the she grizzly saw him she called her 

 cubs and retreated into the woods. I was at a loss to 

 explain this, as she was larger than he, but the sequel led 

 me to believe that she had mistaken him for a much larger 



