232 TRACKS IN THE SNOW. 



mauled in some of my first encounters with 

 the Bruin tribe. Whether it was from sheer 

 thoughtlessness of danger, or the joyous 

 exuberant spu'its of youth, it would be 

 hard to say, but such was the case. 



Tbe second winter I spent in the hills, 

 bears had been scarce and very difficult to 

 find; and, wanting some grease to complete 

 an order from my agents, I offered a small 

 reward to any Puharrie, who would give 

 information of their whereabouts. 



One morning, after a rather severe fall 

 of snow, a villager came to tell me that he 

 had seen the fresh footprints of a bear, and 

 it was certain that if we chose to persevere 

 we should easily track him to his lair. I 

 set out immediately, taking with me a 

 single rifle and a double gun. I was accom- 

 panied by the villager who had brought 

 the intelligence, and two of my own men. 

 About eleven o'clock we reached the spot 

 designated by the villager, and there, sure 

 enough, were the footprints in the newly 

 fallen snow, which was about a foot deep. 



