The Story of Ben 29 



Many times in the night we would hear him sniffing 

 and snuffing away, searching out the fly-blows. 



He grew to be more of a pet each day and he still 

 juggled his ball of rope. Indeed, he got to be a great 

 expert at this trick. He knew his own frying-pan from 

 the others, and would set up a hungry bawl as soon 

 as it was brought out. His food in camp was still flour 

 and water, a little sugar, and condensed milk. This 

 we fed him for more than a month, after which we cut 

 out the milk and gave him just flour and water with a 

 pinch of sugar. He did not care about meat and would 

 eat his frying-pan food, or bread, in preference to deer 

 or moose meat. Sometimes, when we killed a grizzly, 

 we would bring in some of the meat and cook it for the 

 dogs. This was the only meat that Ben would touch 

 and very little of that. But although he occasionally 

 consented to dine on bear meat, he showed unmistak- 

 able signs of temper whenever a new bear-skin was 

 added to our growing pile of pelts. On these occasions, 

 even before the hide was brought to camp, we would 

 find him on our return in a towering rage. No amount 

 of coaxing would induce him to take a romp. Not 

 even for his only four-footed friend, Jim, would he come 

 out of his huff. He would retreat beneath his moose- 

 skin house, and we could hear him strike the ground, 

 champ his jaws, and utter his blowing ^'whoofs.^' I 

 was never able to make out whether he resented or was 

 made fearful by the killing of his kind, or whether it 



