RECREA TION. 



335 



in need of repairs, back to Wallace. 

 In looking at the bear's immense tracks 

 in the sand, they noticed that two toes 

 of the left fore foot were missing. 

 Evidently, the bear had been in a trap 

 at some time. In rehearsing the story 

 at camp some one named that bear Big 

 Foot Wallace. 



Two years later, I had a man herding 

 my cattle, back in the mountains, where 

 he lived alone in a tent, some 10 miles 

 from the ranch. One day he came in to 

 get provisions. In coming over, he tried 

 to turn a bunch of cattle, and, in some 

 way, crippled his horse ; so he took a 

 little Spanish mule, that I had at the 

 ranch, to ride back. Behind his saddle, 

 he tied a miscellaneous assortmont of 

 grub, such as potatoes, bacon, canned 

 goods, sugar, coffee, baking powder, etc. 



When about half-way on his return, 

 he rode up on a little knoll, and right 

 under him, not 50 feet away, was an 

 enormous bear, eating a calf he had 

 just killed. I had had a number of cattle 

 killed during that year, by wild animals, 

 and this man was carrying a Winchester, 

 slung to his saddle, for just such an 

 emergency ; but on this occasion it 

 was useless. 



The mule saw the bear about the 

 same time the man did, and having been 

 previously spoiled by our trying to pack 

 a bear skin home on her, she whirled 

 and bolted for the ranch. The man 

 tried to check her, for a mile or so ; 

 then his arms gave out, and he let her 

 run. She scattered provisions from the 

 brow of that hill clear to the stable 

 door. 



The man told his story, and he and I 

 saddled up two horses and started back, 

 hoping the bear had not left. We found 

 my calf half eaten up, but no bear. 

 The tracks led off up the mountain, and 

 in the dust of an old cow trail they 

 were plain. Two toes were missing 

 from the left fore foot, and we knew it 

 was Big Foot Wallace that was doing 

 the killing. 



My cattle continued to disappear, and 

 that fall I set two big 40- lb. steel traps, 

 but failed to catch the thief. Once, in 

 an October snow, I followed his big 

 tracks for miles. They led me event- 

 ually into a dense grove of Jack pines 

 and dead-fall timber, and I finally came 

 to where he had been lying, under some 

 logs. He had either heard or scented 



me, and had made off, so I gave up the 

 hunt. 



The next year he was worse than ever. 

 There is a small lake that nestles on the 

 side of the mountain, some five miles 

 south of the ranch, and that fall, while 

 up there after geese, I found a two-year- 

 old steer partly eaten up, and the tracks 

 of Big Foot Wallace all about him. I 

 knew it would be of little use to set 

 traps. My cattle were thick about there, 

 and I could not safely set a trap, unless 

 I built a V-shaped pen, as we usually 

 do for bear. This would be useless, for 

 old Wallace was too cute to ever go near 

 a pen. So I returned to the ranch, and 

 that night, Post Hole Jack and I took 

 a few blankets and went up and laid for 

 him. 



The night was dark, and we could 

 only watch late in the evening and early 

 in the morning. We kept this up three 

 nights. The second night the bear 

 came and ate his fill, but we didn't get 

 to see him. The wind was usually 

 from the foothills, and our mode of pro- 

 cedure was to ride up to a certain gulch, 

 about 400 yards to the east of the dead 

 steer, leave our horses and blankets and 

 creep over to some rocks about 75 yards 

 from the carcass. Here we would lie 

 and watch till it got too dark to shoot, 

 then crawl back, roll up in our blankets 

 and, at daylight, repeat the performance. 



The fourth day was a busy one at the 

 ranch, and Jack and I did not get away 

 until quite late. At the foot of the 

 mountain it commenced to rain, and 

 promised to be such a disagreeable 

 night that we debated strongly about 

 returning home ; but the boys at the 

 ranch had been laughing at us about 

 our bear, and we concluded to stay it 

 out. 



Darkness came on early, and we 

 were unable to reach our old camping 

 ground. Finally, when about 300 yards 

 below where we thought the bait lay, it 

 was so dark that we were not certain 

 where we were, and we concluded to 

 camp. We unsaddled our ponies and 

 groped about to find a rock to picket 

 them to. Then we put our saddle 

 blankets on the damp ground, unrolled 

 our bed blankets, and putting rubber 

 slickers over these, we turned in and 

 slept like troopers. 



It was broad daylight when we un- 

 covered our heads. The new-born day 



