A BALD FACED GRIZZLY AND THREE OTHERS. 



G. fl. MCCLELLAN U 



Iii July, i8§5, my partner, Billy, and I 

 left the round-up on Brldger Creek, Wyo- 

 ming, for a trip to Yellowstone park. At 

 that time it was generally thought impos- 

 sible to enter the park front the Southeast, 

 or by following the Shoshone river. We had 

 a good pack outfit of It horses, with the 

 necessary camp duffle, 2 No, 6 Newhouse 

 bear traps and Some beaVer traps. 



After many mishaps we arrived at the 

 head of the North fork of Stinking Water, 

 and Were glad to be in the open country 

 above timber line, after our struggles with 

 the canyon and its dense timber. Once 

 clear of the timber, Billy stopped, looked 

 the prospect over, and advised that we 

 camp there, kill an elk, and jerk the meat 

 for us during the journey through the park. 

 I agreed, and pointing to- a scrubby spruce, 

 suggested that we pitch camp under it. 



Billy rode ahead to reconnoitre, while I 

 turned to drive forward the pack train. 

 Chancing to look to my right, I saw an 

 enormous silvertip with his fore paws on a 

 log, looking us over and listening interest- 

 edly to our conversation. He was not more 

 than 30 yards off. I tried to warn Billy, 

 whose rifle was in his hands'; my gun was 

 in its sling, that I might be able to give 

 my whole attention to the horses. Billy did 

 not hear me. A second call in a louder 

 tone alarmed the bear, which made for a 

 deep gulch to the rear. 



I dismounted, snatched my repeater from 

 its scabbard, ran to where I had last seen 

 the bear, and waited. He came into view 

 200 yards away, lumbering leisurely along. 

 I fired twice, but without effect, as it 

 proved. At the report of my rifle Billy 

 came tearing back to know what was up. 

 I replied, somewhat gruffly, that if he had 

 kept his ears open, he might have had a 

 good shot at short range. 



We unpacked hastily, prepared a quick 

 snack, and then took the bear's trail to see 

 if I had bled him. Convinced that I had 

 missed, we gave it up and devoted ourselves 

 to looking for elk signs. Those we found 

 in plenty, and bear signs everywhere. 

 Climbing to the summit, we found a per- 

 pendicular wall cutting off all travel toward 

 the East. Below us was a bunch of elk, 25 

 or 30, but the wall was so high they seemed 

 ao bigger than sheep. Taking a look around 

 with our field glass, we were convinced we 

 could not reach the band without a flying 

 machine, or making a wide circuit. 



As we were about to turn away, Billy 

 called my attention to an object to the 

 right of the elk, which proved to be a bear 

 coming out of the timber. He went to a 



miry place, dug a hole and wallowed as" a 

 hog does on a hot day. We rolled a boul= 

 der over the Wall. Bruin raised oil his 

 haunches to listen, then resumed his mud 

 bath. The elk paid tip attention, 



Returning to the timber, we struck an 

 old, Well defined game trail, which we ioU 

 lowed toward a Wooded point. On the way 

 I discovered a white faced bean We had 

 heard a good deal about bald faced bears 

 and resolved to kill this one. We man- 

 aged to get a bunch of scrubby pines be^ 

 tween him and us, and sneaked up closer. 

 Then we found there were 2 bears and that 

 they were on the opposite side of a deep 

 gulch. Flat down we lay and crawled to 

 a line behind a second bunch of pines, 

 where we took a fresh peep. 



Holy Moses ! There were 4 of them ! 

 Another bunch or 2 of pines and there 

 might be a score ! 



They were feeding on roots, which they 

 were busily digging. One more sneak and 

 Baldy would be ours. Watching when 

 heads were all down; we stole to a last 

 pine bunch. There, Billy suggested, we 

 were between them and the shelter they 

 would seek when we began shooting. I 

 said I couldn't help it ; I wanted Baldy's 

 dress suit, even if we had to climb a tree. 



Old Baldy was highest up the bank, and 

 just then turned broadside on. I told Billy 

 I would kill Baldy and he could then take 

 another as they started out. Taking a 

 careful bead on the white faced old fellow, 

 just back of the shoulder, I pressed the 

 trigger. Dirt flew up beyond him, and at 

 first I thought I had missed, but in a mo- 

 ment I saw him rolling down hill. As I 

 rose to my knees Billy shouted, "Look "out! 

 Here they come !" 



Sure enough ! And 5 of them at that ! 

 Within 15 yards of us they came, tearing 

 for the timber, and whether we or they 

 were most scared I can not tell. I know 

 we should have stopped the whole bunch, 

 and we got only 3 — Baldy and a pair of 

 yearlings. 



My first shot, a 45-90 bullet, had gone 

 through Baldy's heart, but it did not stop 

 him under 200 yards. We examined his 

 bald face with interest, and I am convinced 

 he was only a silvertip so old as to be 

 turning gray. Around the ears and ex- 

 tending below the eyes was a gray streak 

 3 inches wide. There was another band 

 of gray hair reaching more than half way 

 round the neck on the upper side. I should 

 like to hear through Recreation from oth- 

 ers who have had to do with bald faced 

 bears. 



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