The Happy Hooligan 123 



make an unguarded camp look like a hurrah's nest 

 than any other known agency; and I have had one 

 come back half a dozen times from half a dozen different 

 directions, to try to get at my camera to paw it over 

 and find out what it was. One day when I was photo- 

 graphing grizzlies I buried the tin case that held my 

 electric battery while I went back to camp for some- 

 thing. I did this because I knew that there were 

 Black Bear in the neighborhood, and I hoped by this 

 trick to keep them from tampering with my effects. 

 But when I got back a Black Bear had been there, had 

 dug up the case, pulled the cover off, chewed the tin all 

 out of shape, and had bitten holes in each of the dry 

 batteries. Another time I found one sitting under a 

 canvas shoulder bag that I had hung on the branch of 

 a tree, hitting it first with one paw and then with an- 

 other as it swung. He made so comical a picture that 

 I watched him for a while, but when he reached out his 

 snout and grasped the bag with his teeth I hurriedly 

 drove him away, for the bag had some wooden cylinders 

 of flash powder in it. 



On the trip when Mr. Kerfoot and I were working 

 together we frequently built ourselves seats in con- 

 venient trees from which to watch for grizzlies, and 

 operated the electric mechanisms of our cameras by 

 strings stretched from the apparatus to our crannies 

 among the branches. On one occasion, when we de- 

 termined to work a second night from the same location. 



