82 HUNTING THE GRISLY. 



broad trail of a grisly. The brute was evi- 

 dently roaming restlessly about in search of a 

 winter den, but willing, in passing, to pick up 

 any food that lay handy. At once I took the 

 trail, travelling above and to one side, and 

 keeping a sharp look-out ahead. The bear was 

 going across wind, and this made my task 

 easy. I walked rapidly, though cautiously ; 

 and it was only in crossing the large patches 

 of bare ground that I had to fear making a 

 noise. Elsewhere the snow muffled my foot- 

 steps, and made the trail so plain that I 

 scarcely had to waste a glance upon it, bending 

 my eyes always to the front. 



At last, peering cautiously over a ridge 

 crowned with broken rocks, I saw my quarry, 

 a big, burly bear, with silvered fur. He had 

 halted on an open hill-side, 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 towards 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 rath- 

 er close growth of stunted evergreens, afford- 

 ing 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 



