THE GRIZZLY BEAR. 217 



having had three Bears cross the river I was fishing in, on 

 Sunday morning (O, charitable reader, a quiet little stroll 

 by a silvery, purling, singing mountain-stream, such as was 

 Shell Creek, could not offend even the shade of Izaak 

 Walton, though it were taken on Sunday!) — yes, I went 

 down that stream not more than three miles, and in the two 

 or three hours I silent in tilling my pockets with the trout, 

 no less than three Bears — good-sized Bears, too, by their 

 tracks —crossed the stream behind me, and between me and 

 camp. After such a long time of probation, it was more 

 than exciting to see here, at last, the real thing — an un- 

 mistakable Grizzly. There actually was such a thing as 

 a Grizzly in the tiesh, though we had begun to doubt it; 

 not so big as a Buffalo, truly, now I came to see him in 

 daylight, but weighing, I should say, fully six hundred 

 pounds. 



The largest Bear any of us ever saw was a Cinnamon that 

 came within an inch of killing one of my men — a good 

 hunter and tirst-class guide — Charles Huff. I may refer to 

 the big Cinnamon, too, as an instance of the danger that 

 sometimes attends trapping the Bear. He had set his traps 

 near Sunlight, Gallatin County, Montana, in the spring, 

 and was unable to visit them for a week. When he got to 

 the bait, trap and log were gone. After taking up the trail, 

 he soon found the remnants of his log chewed to match- 

 wood; the Bear, evidently a large one, had gone off with 

 the traj). He followed his trail as long as he had light, but 

 found nothing, and had to return to camp. Next day, very 

 foolishly, he took the trail again alone, beginning where he 

 had left off. After a long march, he came to the steep side 

 of a hill; the Bear had evidently gone up there — on the soft, 

 snow-sodden ground the trail was plain. Just as the man 

 was beginning to ascend, there was a rush and a roar, and 

 the Bear was on him. He had no time to put his repeater to 

 his shoulder, but letting it fall between his hands, pulled 

 the trigger. The Bear was within a few feet of him, and by 

 a great chance the unaimed bullet took him between the 

 eyes. He had evidently tried the hill-side, and, worried by 



