364 BIG GAME FIELDS 



spread down the mountainside, bathing the whole 

 range in a rose-tinted glow. 



Something moved up on the bald face of the 

 mountain I say moved for the gait of a grizzly 

 is all his very own. There was no need of chang- 

 ing our position, for with the glasses we could see 

 he was shambling down the mountain, and the 

 wind was strong from his direction. From time 

 to time the prowler would stop, raise his head 

 and with instructed nostrils question the air cur- 

 rents, listen intently with cocked ears and shamble 

 on again. Down into the valley he passed, 

 through the low growing firs and willows, then 

 crossing the stream he came on up the bold slopes 

 where the w r inds had bared their sides of snow. 



About five hundred yards below and to one 

 side he stopped. "He dig him ground hog," said 

 Mac. Then, without removing the glasses, he 

 asked, as if prompted by the size of that old 

 grizzly, "How many cartridges yo bring to-day?" 

 "Thirteen," I said. He turned and looked hard 

 at me. I was wondering if he bore the super- 

 stitution of the white man. "Mebbe you need a 

 couple more," he replied, as he produced two from 

 his pocket. 



Mac shut up the glasses, drew his belt up a 



