CARIBOU AND BROWN BEAR 175 



At last Mike said, "There's old Bruin! I would 

 have been disappointed if we had not seen a brown bear." 



There was no mistaking the great animal. Across 

 the valley about a mile from us she was walking slowly 

 along a bear-trail at the foot of the Double Mountain and 

 just below a band of alders which encircled the lower 

 part of the hill. Occasionally she stopped and plucked 

 at the ground, not hurrying nor yet showing an inclination 

 to rest. We left the caribou head on the river bank at 

 the foot of our lookout and lost no time in taking after 

 the bear. Over the undulations of the tundra we traveled 

 as fast as we could, but the animal had a mile start of 

 us, and as we drew close she would stop and turn around 

 to see if anyone was following her. On the instant Mike 

 would halt and we, behind him, would freeze into whatever 

 attitudes we had at the moment. In this way we had 

 nearly caught up to our game within two miles from start- 

 ing. But the trail which led the bear around the foot of 

 the Double Moimtain took her over a little spur on which 

 the alders grew thickly in patches. Over this ridge she 

 went and we after her. Cautiously we followed in case 

 she might have stopped among the bushes, but when we 

 had gone half way down the farther slope we caught a 

 gUmpse of the animal still going her quiet gait. 



A quick dash under cover of the bush and Elting was 

 within a hundred yards. He knelt down, careless of noise. 

 The bear swung her head slowly to look at him and the 

 nine-millimeter bullet struck her in the left shoulder, 

 going through heart and lungs. 



Instantly the great brute dashed off down the slope 

 to a creek at the foot of it and up the other side of the 

 steep hill. Just as she was disappearing in the alders 

 here a snap-shot brought her rolling down again to the 



