Hunting the Grisly 95 



halted on an open hillside, and was busily dig- 

 ging up the caches of some rock gophers or 

 squirrels. He seemed absorbed in his work, 

 and the stalk was easy. Slipping quietly back, 

 I ran toward the end of the spur, and in ten 

 minutes struck a ravine, of which one branch 

 ran past within seventy yards of where the 

 bear was working. In this ravine was a rather 

 close growth of stunted evergreens, affording 

 good cover, although in one or two places I 

 had to lie down and crawl through the snow. 

 When I reached the point for which I was 

 aiming, the bear had just finished rooting, and 

 was starting off. A slight whistle brought him 

 to a standstill, and I drew a bead behind his 

 shoulder, and low down, resting the rifle across 

 the crooked branch of a dwarf spruce. At 

 the crack he ran off at speed, making no 

 sound, but the thick spatter of blood splashes, 

 showing clear on the white snow, betrayed the 

 mortal nature of the wound. For some min- 

 utes I followed the trail ; and then, topping a 

 ridge, I saw the dark bulk lying motionless in 

 a snowdrift at the foot of a low rock-wall, 

 down which he had tumbled. 



The usual practice of the still-hunter who 

 is after grisly is to toll it to baits. The hun- 

 ter either lies in ambush near the carcass, or 



