A Bear-Hunt in the Sierras 



sweetest tufts of herbage, picking them here 

 and there, wandering and meditating as they 

 eat. I will not say that they never touch 

 grass, for I have seen deer feeding among 

 cattle in the open, but it is not by any means 

 the chief article of their diet, and when they 

 partake of it under such circumstances, it is 

 more as a gratification of their social instincts, 

 I think, than from any particular love of the 

 food itself. 



A little before noon upon the fourth day, 

 we arrived at one of the sheep camps, to which 

 we had been directed by a stray herd, and 

 where we were to find the foreman of the 

 sheep gang. At that hour of the day there 

 were naturally in camp but a few men. The 

 cook was there, of course. His functions were 

 simple enough — to make bread, tea, and boil 

 mutton, or bake it in a Mexican oven beneath 

 the coals. With him was the chief herder and 

 a half-witted Portuguese, who, upon the day 

 following, in the plenitude of his zeal and 

 mental deficiency, insisted upon offering him- 

 self as live bait for a grizzly, as will be nar- 

 rated. 



During the afternoon I strolled further up 

 the mountain with my rifle, in the hope of a 



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