Big Game in the Rockies 
my custom to take along on my hunting-trips 
aged and worn-out horses, which answer ad- 
mirably when it comes to drawing bears to 
a carcass. Of course, this is not always a 
sure way, for the bear, if alarmed or disturbed, 
will only visit the carcass at night, and then, 
if the hunter is persistent and determined to 
get a shot, he may expect many weary hours 
of watching from a friendly pine. 
I think I hear the reader say, ‘“‘ What’s the 
fun in shooting a bear from a tree ?— there 
is no risk in that.” True, there is not; but it 
is when you come down from your perch that 
you may not feel quite so safe, as with limbs 
benumbed from cold and lack of circulation 
you climb down, knowing that perhaps sev- 
eral pairs of watchful eyes or cunning nostrils 
are studying your movements. Involuntarily 
your thoughts travel in the vein of your 
gloomy surroundings as you go stumbling on 
your way to camp: what if the bear should 
prefer live goose-flesh to dead horse? 
One spring morning I was knocking around 
under the base of the mountains and found 
myself, about dinner-time, so close to Colonel 
Pickett’s cozy log-cabin that I determined to 
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