THE SEVEN SLEEPERS 179 
who was more experienced in bear-ways, backing 
water desperately. Just then the swimming animal 
turned his head and saw the canoe. Instantly the hair 
on his back bristled and stood up in a long stiff ridge, 
and he stopped swimming — whereupon my friend 
found himself instantaneously, automatically, and en- 
thusiastically assisting the guide. 
Even where the blackbear is common, one may 
spend a long lifetime without sight or sound of him. 
There may be half a dozen bear feeding in a berry- 
patch. You may find signs that they are close at 
hand and all about. Yet no matter how you may hide 
and skulk and hunt, never a glimpse of one of them 
will you get. In bear country you will more often 
smell the hot, strong, unmistakable scent of a bear 
who is watching you close at hand, than see the bear 
himself. In fact the sight of a wild blackbear is an 
adventure worth remembering. 
Personally, I am ashamed to say that, although I 
have tramped and camped and fished and hunted 
on both sides of the continent, I have never really 
seen a bear. Twice I have had glimpses of one. 
The first time was in what was then the Territory of 
Washington. I was walking with a friend through a 
bit of virgin forest. The narrow path was walled in 
on both sides by impenetrable wind-breaks and under- 
brush. As we suddenly and silently came around a 
sharp bend, there was a crash through a mass of fallen 
trees, and I almost saw what caused it. At least I 
saw the bushes move. Right ahead of us, in the 
mould of a torn and rotted stump, was a foot-print 
