1 66 CAMP-FIRES IN THE CANADIAN ROCKIES 



We shook. It would have been conceited folly to 

 have done otherwise. To come twelve miles, find our 

 long-lost silver-tip, and down him by eleven o'clock, 

 made us feel that we were each of us entitled to a few 

 gloats over the result. 



"Woo, yow-yow!" said Kaiser far below, — about 

 ten seconds after he had disappeared; and there he was, 

 looking very small, and joyously biting the hams of the 

 dead grizzly. Instead of sitting astride a killed animal, 

 and being photographed with one hand upon it, Kaiser 

 gloats over his dead game by biting its hams. 



As quickly as possible, we descended the slope and 

 soon stood beside the dead grizzly. Then, as often hap- 

 pens, its sex changed very suddenly. Every grizzly is a 

 " he," until shot! This one was a fat young female, not 

 as big as we had hoped, but in beautiful pelage for Sep- 

 tember. In remarking upon the length and immaculate- 

 ness of the furry coat, which still waved in the wind, 

 Charlie remarked, that at this season the female grizzlies 

 have longer hair than the males. I was sorry we could 

 not weigh the animal, but at that moment my scales were 

 twenty miles away, with the sheep-hunters. 



The next thing was to photograph the game; and in 

 view of the wild and romantic scenery that hemmed us 

 in, and stretched away before us, plunging down Goat 

 Creek, I sincerely regretted the absence of Mr. Phillips 

 and his splendid stereo camera. But Charlie Smith had 

 his small camera and four " fillims," and surely he could 

 do something to save the situation. In these kodak days, 

 a grizzly-bear hunter might as well return without the 



