Hunting the Grisly 109 



ger ought never to be needlessly incurred, it 

 is yet true that the keenest zest in sport comes 

 from its presence, and from the consequent 

 exercise of the qualities necessary to over- 

 come it. The most thrilling moments of an 

 American hunter's life are those in which, 

 with every sense on the alert, and with nerves 

 strung to the highest point, he is following 

 alone into the heart of its forest fastness the 

 fresh and bloody footprints of an angered 

 grisly; and no other triumph of American 

 hunting can compare with the victory to be 

 thus gained. 



These big bears will not ordinarily charge 

 from a distance of over a hundred yards ; but 

 there are exceptions to this rule. In the fall 

 of 1890 my friend Archibald Rogers was 

 hunting in Wyoming, south of the Yellow- 

 stone Park, and killed seven bears. One, an 

 old he, was out on a bare tableland, grubbing 

 for roots, when he was spied. It was early in 

 the afternoon, and the hunters, who were 

 on a high mountain slope, examined him for 

 some time through their powerful glasses be- 

 fore making him out to be a bear. They 

 then stalked up to the edge of the wood which 

 fringed the tableland on one side, but could 

 get no nearer than about three hundred yards, 



