Hunting the Grisly. 309 



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 table-land, 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 before making 

 him out to be a bear. They then stalked up to the edge 

 of the wood which fringed the table-land on one side, but 

 could get no nearer than about three hundred yards, the 

 plains being barren of all cover. After waiting for a 

 couple of hours Rogers risked the shot, in despair of get- 

 ting nearer, and wounded the bear, though not very seri- 

 ously. The animal made off, almost broadside to, and 

 Rogers ran forward to intercept it. As soon as it saw 

 him it turned and rushed straight for him, not heeding 

 his second shot, and evidently bent on charging home. 

 Rogers then waited until it was within twenty yards, and 

 brained it with his third bullet. 



In fact bears differ individually in courage and ferocity 

 precisely as men do, or as the Spanish bulls, of which it 

 is said that not more than one in twenty is fit to stand the 

 combat of the arena. One grisly can scarcely be bullied 

 into resistance ; the next may fight to the end, against 

 any odds, without flinching, or even attack unprovoked. 

 Hence men of limited experience in this sport, generaliz- 

 ing from the actions of the two or three bears each has 

 happened to see or kill, often reach diametrically opposite 

 conclusions as to the fighting temper and capacity of the 

 quarry. Even old hunters who indeed, as a class, are 



