Memories of a Bear Hunter 



My injured leg had now so much improved that 

 I decided to trust it. Besides, snow was falling, 

 the temperature getting lower, snowdrifts were 

 becoming deeper, winter was approaching. It was 

 time to seek a lower altitude. It was now the first 

 day of October, and we had been here since August 

 23. It was not a good camp, exposed as it was 

 to westerly winds and the drifting snow. We 

 determined therefore to go down the mountains, 

 making the first camp at the spot near the Grey 

 Bull, at the mouth of Buffalo Fork, where we 

 were in camp for several weeks the year before. 

 This was the camp from which I had killed nine- 

 teen grizzlies within a month. 



As I could be of little assistance in packing, I 

 left ahead of the packs, intending to watch a cer- 

 tain point near the new camp for a bear. I reached 

 the Grey Bull, found the site of the old camp, and 

 at the proper time went to the mouth of Jack Creek 

 to look for the bear. He did not appear before 

 dark, and I returned to camp, built a big fire and 

 awaited the arrival of the outfit. It was not until 

 about 9 o'clock that I heard shouts across the creek, 

 and soon after, the outfit crossed at a ford, and we 

 were comfortably in camp. Corey reported that 

 when they started he was unable to put the cub on 

 the packs and that he had finally set it free. I 



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