vn A MOVE TO THE WEST AND BERING SEA 143 



we nearly ran into a big bear standing on the bank. So 

 great was our pace that the men could not pull up until we 

 had shot past the spot where he stood. Seizing the rifle, 

 I jumped into shallow water and scrambled to the bank, 

 only to catch a fleeting glimpse of the bear as he disappeared 

 in the darkness over a rise in the ground. Knowing the 

 futility of attempting to follow it, we returned sorrowfully 

 to camp, having added one more lost opportunity to the list. 



Next morning I had a particularly cold vigil from 4 a.m. 

 to 6 A.M., as we were enveloped in a typical Bering Sea fog 

 and mist. The result was again a blank, and we decided 

 to move camp down stream to our first camping ground, 

 which was accomplished at noon. As time was getting 

 short, we decided to make this our last evening on the river, 

 and as events turned out I narrowly missed making it my 

 last day in Alaska. 



Craving the indulgence of my readers, I will inflict one 

 more bear episode upon them, and then bid adieu to all 

 ursine matters. 



That evening Nicolai expressed a desire to try to get a 

 bear alone, so giving him my double-barrelled 450 Express, 

 I started him off to watch the bear-trail where he had made 

 such a mess of matters three days before. Taking the local 

 native, I went to the hill behind our camp whence we had 

 first viewed the bear three nights previously. An hour of 

 patient waiting rewarded me with a view of what was 

 undoubtedly a large she-bear and two big cubs moving along 

 the foothills on our bank, and evidently making for the 

 river. Here let me add that, although I always had a native 

 on the look-out with me, never once did he show me a 

 bear before I had seen it myself, and I observed the same 

 fact when moose - hunting with the natives on the Kenai 



