so8 Old Rphraim. 



Merrifield's tale made me decide to shift camp at once, 

 and go over to the spot where the bear-tracks were so 

 plenty. Next morning we were off, and by noon pitched 

 camp by a clear brook, in a valley with steep, wooded 

 sides, but with good feed for the horses in the open bot- 

 tom. We rigged the canvas wagon sheet into a small 

 tent, sheltered by the trees from the wind, and piled great 

 pine logs near by where we wished to place the fire ; for a 

 night camp in the sharp fall weather is cold and dreary 

 unless there is a roaring blaze of flame in front of the tent. 



That afternoon we again went out, and I shot a fine 

 bull elk. I came home alone toward nightfall, walking 

 through a reach of burnt forest, where there was nothing 

 but charred tree-trunks and black mould. When nearly 

 through it I came across the huge, half-human footprints 

 of a great grizzly, which must have passed by within a few 

 minutes. It gave me rather an eerie feeling in the silent, 

 lonely woods, to see for the first time the unmistakable 

 proofs that I was in the home of the mighty lord of the 

 wilderness. I followed the tracks in the fading twilight 

 until it became too dark to see them any longer, and then 

 shouldered my rifle and walked back to camp. 



That evening we almost had a visit from one of the ani- 

 mals we were after. Several times we had heard at night 

 the musical calling of the bull elk a sound to which no 

 writer has as yet done justice. This particular night, when 

 we were in bed and the fire was smouldering, we were roused 

 by a ruder noise a kind of grunting or roaring whine, 

 answered by the frightened snorts of the ponies. It was 

 a bear which had evidently not seen the fire, as it came 



