176 OUR NATIONAL PARKS 



little way ahead." I walked carefully in the in- 

 dicated direction, until I approached a small 

 flowery meadow that I was familiar with, then 

 crawled to the foot of a tree on its margin, bear- 

 ing in mind what I had been told about the shy- 

 ness of bears. Looking out cautiously over the 

 instep of the tree, I saw a big, burly cinnamon 

 bear about thirty yards off, half erect, his paws 

 resting on the trunk of a fir that had fallen into 

 the meadow, his hips almost buried in grass and 

 flowers. He was listening attentively and trying 

 to catch the scent, showing that in some way he 

 was aware of our approach. I watched his ges- 

 tures, and tried to make the most of my opportu- 

 nity to learn what I could about him, fearing he 

 would not stay long. He made a fine picture, 

 standing alert in the sunny garden walled in by 

 the most beautiful firs in the world. 



After examining him at leisure, noting the 

 sharp muzzle thrust inquiringly forward, the long 

 shaggy hair on his broad chest, the stiff ears 

 nearly buried in hair, and the slow, heavy way in 

 which he moved his head, I foolishly made a rush 

 on him, throwing up my arms and shouting to 

 frighten him, to see him run. He did not mind 

 the demonstration much ; only pushed his head 

 farther forward, and looked at me sharply as if 

 asking, " What now ? If you want to fight, I 'm 

 ready." Then I began to fear that on me would 

 fall the work of running. But I was afraid to 



