HUNTING THE BEAR 247 



down to a creek flowing from another basin, and at 

 that point led abruptly up to the great mountain on 

 the south side of the basin I was to enter. Coming 

 out of the timber, I was at the foot of a conical 

 hill two hundred feet high and very steep ; the top 

 was covered with thick, stunted, impenetrable spruce, 

 which extended ten feet down the slope and continued 

 around it through a depression to more open timber 

 beyond, where the hill joined the main mountain. I 

 climbed this hill diagonally, looking on fine, red-tipped 

 grass for bear tracks, but saw none. On reaching the 

 spruces I passed around the edge of the trees, holding 

 on to the branches for assistance in walking around the 

 incline. 



I went high up and tramped along the mountain- 

 side. The basin was beautiful, with high, rough moun- 

 tains encircling it ; the air was filled with the rumble 

 and roar of numerous snow slides ; starting high up, 

 near the crests of the surrounding mountains, and 

 appearing like immense cataracts, the snow dashed over 

 cliffs and fell through ravines until it slid in great 

 masses over the smoother ground below, piling up in 

 huge mounds as it stopped. I noticed many marmots 

 about, some sitting up, some running about the snow 

 near the mountain tops. At different points high up 

 in the snow bear tracks were visible. Reaching a 

 good look-out, I waited until five, watching carefully 

 on all sides, but nothing appeared. 



Then I retraced my steps along the slope and reached 

 the conical hill around which I had passed earlier in 

 the day. I was circling near the top, holding on to 

 the spruce branches with my right hand, while the 

 butt of my rifle, with the barrel pointing behind me, 



