THE LIFE STORY OF A GRIZZLY. 



415 



man and I was happy ; though it was 

 the beginning of more trouble, for 

 after that they hunted us high and 

 low till Pike shot my Father and one 

 brother. He was after me, for I had 

 killed Radcliff. They knew me by 

 my big track, for I was the biggest 

 silvertip on the range ; but the trail 

 I climbed was too steep for them. A 

 few years later Whort shot my aunt 

 and a cousin on Cover mountain. 

 Five more of us sprang steel traps at 

 the Stirrup ranch, and they hunted us 

 so hard it kept us trailing back and 

 forth from Black mountain to Pon- 

 cha. We soon got tired of that and 

 moved again, that time over on Bur- 

 roughs' mountain. For a while we 

 had an easy time again, for 2Aegged 

 critters were scarce in that part of the 

 mountain in those days. Only a man 

 named Burroughs built a cabin on 

 top, where feed was good, and drove 

 in a bunch of cattle. What a picnic 

 for us ! He was no hunter. He 

 soon gave it up and drove his cattle 

 down again, leaving us in possession. 

 We missed his cattle at first, but soon 

 made trails down to Arch Hall's 

 ranch, then over to his brother Jim's, 

 and at last down to Dan's. It was a 

 little farther to go for breakfast, but 

 we didn't mind that if we could live 

 in peace on the mountain. It began 

 to look as if we might. The sun be- 

 gan to shine again, the water seemed 

 clearer in the springs, and life was 

 becoming a pleasure once more. 



Alas ! One day in the fall, as I 

 was going down by the old cabin for 

 water, I heard voices in the timber 

 down the trail we had made to Dan 

 Hall's. I was not long in getting to 

 high ground and out of sight. Soon 

 I saw them, as they came out in the 

 little park just below the cabin. One 

 of Dan's old bronchos was carrying 

 Preacher Harris, and on a spotted 

 Indian pony was Coyote Bill. The 

 preacher was spending his vacation at 

 Dan Hall's ranch, and Bill had taken 

 him for a ride in the hills. Perhaps 

 Bill was telling what he knew about 



coyotes and did not know about bears, 

 for they would not have known I 

 was in the country if it had not been 

 for that spotted Indian pony! I had 

 been careful not to leave any tracks 

 in the mud by the springs, and I had 

 kept off the regular trail where they 

 usually came, if they came at all to 

 the cabin ; but one can never tell 

 which way a preacher is coming from. 



They stopped at the first water and 

 got a drink. Brother Flarris com- 

 mented on the fine water and wished 

 he had as good in Canon City. Then 

 Bill took a drink and, looking around 

 the little parks and bunches of quak- 

 ing asp, he said, 



"It looks like a mighty good deer 

 country." 



They got on their horses and rode 

 slowly toward the cabin, right across 

 my trail. Then that cussed little 

 spotted Indian pony put her white 

 nose down in the grass and snorted ! 

 Bill was out of his saddle in no time, 

 exclaiming, 



"When Dell snorts like that it 

 means bear or mountain lion !" 



Then he got down on his hands 

 and knees in the grass, looked close 

 and said, 



"Bear, by " 



I guess he was going to say "by 

 thunder," or something of that sort, 

 but he thought of the preacher and 

 quit. 



I led them a merry chase all that 

 afternoon, but they were not smart 

 enough for old Mose. 



About that time cattle came up in 

 price and the ranchmen complained 

 more than ever. I had just killed a 

 nice critter for Arch Hall, and that 

 set 'em wild. They offered big re- 

 wards for bears. Arch set a trap by 

 the carcass I killed, and I went 

 around every night and sprang it for 

 him. I knew how, and I warned the 

 rest of our outfit to let the trap alone, 

 but they only made sport of me. 

 They said Mose was getting old and 

 cranky ; so I let 'em alone, and in 

 about a week Arch had a fine young 



