THE LITE STORY OT A GRIZZLY. 



417 



The next year the little spotted In- 

 dian pony was corralled at Arch 

 Hall's ranch, and Brown and old 

 "Kodunk" took a hand in the game. 

 They stopped at Gardner's, and Len 

 gave them a big jaw steer for bait. 

 They started out loaded with bait and 

 bear traps till you would have 

 thought there would not be a live 

 bear within 100 miles of the layout ; 

 but they didn't cut much hay that 

 trip ! Old Kodunk drank all the 

 whisky and then got lost on the 

 range. They caught 2 eagles in their 

 bear traps, and Brown and Bill car- 

 ried a deer down to camp that had 

 happened along the trail and met one 

 of those new Savage bullets. I 

 wasn't stopping bullets that fall, and 

 had struck out for Black mountain 

 again as soon as I saw the spotted 

 pony. 



The next year Whort bought the 

 Stirrup ranch and moved all his traps 

 on to Poncha. I took 3 rounds of 

 his bait without springing a trap. 

 Then I warned the few of our outfit 

 that were left and we moved to the 

 head of Long gulch, above Summer- 

 ville's ; all but one fool of a cub, who 

 stayed behind to see if I was right 

 about the traps. He found out, and 

 Whort scored bear No. 4. 



Dan Hall and Bob Foster opened 

 target practice on one of us after 

 we went to Long gulch. Dan wanted 

 a rug, but he did not get it, for after 

 they took the hide off it was so full 

 of holes his wife nailed it up to the 

 kitchen window for a fly screen. 



The affair startled me a little, and 

 I, then alone, trailed my weary old 

 bones back over on the far side of 

 Poncha, just above the Stirrup ranch, 

 to my old den, near where I had 

 killed Radcliff. It was an open win- 

 ter, and I didn't hole up for good 

 till after Christmas. Then I slept the 

 sleep of the old and weary for 2 

 solid months. 



In the spring the spotted pony- 

 Rests within the old corrall. 

 In the spring old Mose still wishes 

 That same broncho was in 



I am not much on poetry, and you 

 wouldn't expect it from a bear ; but 

 these lines of Tennyson came to me 

 early in March. It was the first day 

 I had come out after my long nap, 

 and I thought I would take a peep 

 down at the Stirrup ranch, to see what 

 was going on. There in the corrall, 

 feeding at the big hay rick, was that 

 same little spotted Indian pony ! The 

 next day they rode up the side of 

 Poncha, toward my den, but the snow 

 was so deep in places I knew they 

 could not reach me that trip. Be- 

 sides, they carried kodaks and were 

 taking pictures. Whort pointed out 

 the place where he was going to set 

 his new bear traps and showed Bill 

 where he caught the cub last fall. 

 Then they went back to the ranch and 

 took pictures of the cattle. The next 

 day they drove back to Canon City ; 

 but they left the little spotted Indian 

 pony ! 



I crawled wearily back into my 

 den, but I did not stay long, for each 

 day it got warmer, the sun shone 

 brighter, little rugged points of rock 

 crept up through the snow on Pike's 

 peak and the Sangre, and down on 

 the South hill side, below in the quak- 

 ing asp groves, little bunches of dry 

 grass beckoned spring to hurry. Then 

 I lay all day in the sunshine at the 

 door of my den and thought, for ani- 

 mals do think. I wondered how it 

 would be with old Mose when these 

 old bones should lie bleaching in the 

 sun on Poncha mountain and this big, 

 shaggy old coat of mine, all tipped 

 with silver, should adorn Whort's 

 den at the Stirrup ranch. 



Is there a Heaven for bears? 



I heard Coyote Bill tell the boys 

 around the camp fire, one night, that 

 dogs went to Heaven, and that old 

 Tiger was going there. He said they 

 had a little corner off by themselves, 

 away from the main push, where they 

 chased jack rabbits and coyotes over 

 the green hill side and didn't get cac- 

 tus in their paws. 



If dogs, why not bears? 



