CHAPTER XV 
BERT SEES THINGS 
In East Canyon we camped near Tom O’Brien’s 
sawmill, one of the small portable outfits, with a ca- 
pacity for cutting five or ten thousand feet of saw 
timber per day, that are to be discovered here and 
there in the Black Range. 
The proprietor we found a genial soul whose in- 
terests seemed to centre more in the shooting and 
trapping of ‘‘varmints’’ than in the lumber industry. 
He showed us several good bear skins that he wanted 
outrageous prices for and also, which was more in- 
teresting, a tame grizzly, half grown, with which he 
was on alarmingly intimate terms. He boxed and 
wrestled with his huge pet for our benefit but warned 
us at the same time that he was the only person for 
whom these pastimes were safe. None of us tested 
the accuracy of the statement but it was very prob- 
ably true, for whenever any one came near the 
boards which fenced in the bear his reception was 
somewhat terrifying. ‘‘Teddy’’ had escaped from 
his pen, O’Brien told us, more than once, but always 
turned up later after absences of varying length. 
The sawmill was not an imposing affair, but we 
were able to study local methods and costs of logging 
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