202 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



may have a fight on his hands with an aggressive 

 mother, infuriated, but not incapacitated, by a slight 

 wound, or enraged by the unprovoked assault upon 

 her offspring. 



It took us some time to skin the three bears and 

 to pack the hides on our somewhat unwilling steeds. 

 Early that same afternoon we sighted another bear 

 also on an open hillside busily engaged in digging 

 for roots. He was a three-year-old silver- tip, with a 

 beautiful light-coloured skin, and afforded me a most 

 interesting stalk. In his case there was no convenient 

 gully up which to approach him. But I managed to 

 get to within 200 yards, under cover of some trees. 

 Then came the difficulty of the stalk. I was unwilling 

 to shoot at this distance, as the bear was constantly in 

 motion. It was a hot day ; the flies were trouble- 

 some, and in the intervals of digging Bruin afforded 

 us much amusement by his antics, snapping at the 

 flies, scratching his ear with his hind-paw, and some- 

 times jumping round like a terrier puppy after its 

 tail. 



I wanted the skin badly, and determined to try for 

 a nearer shot. Bob was accordingly left under cover 

 with the horses, while I attempted an approach in the 

 open. The stretch of hillside between the bear and 

 my rifle was covered with a splendid crop of moun- 

 tain-grass nearly 2 feet high. Gradually I worked 

 my way forward in a sitting position, remaining 

 motionless when the bear looked up, and only moving 

 when he resumed digging and feeding. 



By this means I managed to approach within 

 100 yards, and then the rifle was brought into play. 

 The difficulty now was to get a steady shot. A more 

 restless brute I have seldom seen. Half a dozen 



