148 Hunting the Grisly 



out doubt they were mainly due to the quarry s 

 wariness and its sneaking ways. 



I have seen a wild cougar alive but twice, 

 and both times by chance. On one occasion 

 one of my men, Merrifield, and I surprised 

 one eating a skunk in a bullberry patch; and 

 by our own bungling frightened it away from 

 its unsavory repast without getting a shot. 



On the other occasion luck befriended me. 

 I was with a pack train in the Rockies, and 

 one day, feeling lazy, and as we had no meat 

 in camp, I determined to try for deer by 

 lying in wait beside a recently traveled game 

 trail. The spot I chose was a steep, pine- 

 clad slope leading down to a little mountain 

 lake. I hid behind a breastwork of rotten 

 logs, with a few young evergreens in front 

 an excellent ambush. A broad game trail 

 slanted down the hill directly past me. I 

 lay perfectly quiet for about an hour, listen 

 ing to the murmur of the pine forests, and the 

 occasional call of a jay or woodpecker, and 

 gazing eagerly along the trail in the waning 

 light of the late afternoon. Suddenly, with 

 out noise or warning of any kind, a cougar 

 stood in the trail before me. The unlooked- 

 for and unheralded approach of the beast was 

 fairly ghost-like. With its head lower than 



