436 WALL STREET AND THE WILDS 



chance that Fate might grant me. It came as at a 

 distance of two hundred yards. A slow-moving 

 black body climbed over the trunk of a fallen 

 tree. My aim was quick, careful, and measured 

 for the distance, but I felt that little short of a 

 miracle could help me and as the bear passed on, 

 it was the merest chance that induced me to walk 

 to the tree the bear had crossed to see if per- 

 chance my bullet had struck it. Lying on the 

 tree was a piece of a bone and leading from it was 

 a trail of blood which led to a nearby thicket 

 where lay the body of the bear. 



Most camps in the telling are alike, in the liv- 

 ing all are different. Each of our thirty camps 

 on this trip from Camp Tenderfoot to Camp 

 Farewell had some special association which 

 memory brings back to me. Often the name of a 

 camp tells its story. Antelope Camp stands for 

 the day when we saw more than a hundred and 

 shot several of these creatures. During our stay 

 at Camp Elk we saw three hundred of these big 

 deer, shot nearly a dozen, and photographed as 

 many. Camp Grizzly was worthy of its name 



