THE SEVEN SLEEPERS 179 



who was more experienced in bear-ways, backing 

 water desperately. Just then the swimming animal 

 turned his head and saw the canoe. Instantly the hair 

 on his back bristled and stood up in a long stiff ridge, 

 and he stopped swimming — whereupon my friend 

 found himself instantaneously, automatically, and en- 

 thusiastically assisting the guide. 



Even where the blackbear is common, one may 

 spend a long lifetime without sight or sound of him. 

 There may be half a dozen bear feeding in a berry- 

 patch. You may find signs that they are close at 

 hand and all about. Yet no matter how you may hide 

 and skulk and hunt, never a glimpse of one of them 

 will you get. In bear country you will more often 

 smell the hot, strong, unmistakable scent of a bear 

 who is watching you close at hand, than see the bear 

 himself. In fact the sight of a wild blackbear is an 

 adventure worth remembering. 



Personally, I am ashamed to say that, although I 

 have tramped and camped and fished and hunted 

 on both sides of the continent, I have never really 

 seen a bear. Twice I have had glimpses of one. 

 The first time was in what was then the Territory of 

 Washington. I was walking with a friend through a 

 bit of virgin forest. The narrow path was walled in 

 on both sides by impenetrable wind-breaks and under- 

 brush. As we suddenly and silently came around a 

 sharp bend, there was a crash through a mass of fallen 

 trees, and I almost saw what caused it. At least I 

 saw the bushes move. Right ahead of us, in the 

 mould of a torn and rotted stump, was a foot-print 



