84 HUNTING THE GRISLY. 



round, picking up the scraps, and uttering an 

 extraordinary variety of notes, mostly discord- 

 ant ; so tame were they that one of them lit 

 on my outstretched arm as I half dozed, bask- 

 ing in the sunshine. 



When the shadows began to lengthen, I 

 shouldered my rifle and plunged into the woods. 

 At first my route lay along a mountain side ; 

 then for half a mile over a windfall, the dead 

 timber piled about in crazy confusion. After 

 that I went up the bottom of a valley by a 

 little brook, the ground being carpeted with a 

 sponge of soaked moss. At the head of this 

 brook was a pond covered with water-lilies ; 

 and a scramble through a rocky pass took me 

 into a high, wet valley, where the thick growth 

 of spruce was broken by occasional strips of 

 meadow. In this valley the moose carcass 

 lay, well at the upper end. 



In moccasined feet I trod softly through the 

 soundless woods. Under the dark branches 

 it was already dusk, and the air had the cool 

 chill of evening. As I neared the clump 

 where the body lay, I walked with redoubled 

 caution, watching and listening with strained 

 alertness. Then I heard a twig snap ; and 

 my blood leaped, for I knew the bear was at 

 his supper. In another moment I saw his 

 shaggy, brown form. He was working with 

 all his awkward .giant strength, trying to bury 

 the carcass, twisting it to one side and the 

 other with wonderful ease. Once he got 

 angry and suddenly gave it a tremendous cuff 

 with his paw ; in his bearing he had something 



