214 



RECREATION 



A glance at the sun confirmed this 

 conclusion, as it was about noon, and 

 the bears' bedtime. 



During the heat of the day the brown 

 bear "lies up" in some dense thicket, 

 or a snowbank surrounded with brush. 

 Stalking under these conditions is not 

 always successful, although a sleeping 

 bear does not hear well. We took the 

 safe course, that of waiting for the old 

 bear to expose herself in the open, 

 where our chances of catching the cubs 

 would be much better than in the thick 

 brush. 



The time moved slowly. After an 

 hour had passed we gave up all hope 

 of ever seeing the bears again. Our 

 hearing grew strangely acute, and 

 every little noise made us start. 



Brown objects — brush, and rocks — 

 seemed to move. A big willow ptarmi- 

 gan strutted across a snow patch and 

 surveyed us with outstretched neck. 



Far up the canon our three friends, 

 the caribou, were at last resting, and 

 now and then the faint, far-off yapping 

 of a fox drifted up from the lowlands. 



As the cold crept into us we lost 

 control of our muscles and. shivered 

 like dogs in a duck blind. 



We had crouched on that hillside for 

 over two hours, when, at last, we heard 

 the sharp snap of a breaking branch. 

 Looking in the direction of the noise 

 I saw brush moving, and then, with the 

 muscles rolling under her shaggy coat, 

 the big bear plowed through a thicket 

 and stalked into a little glade. On 

 reaching the center of the glade she 

 sat down, and our time had come. 



She was about 180 yards below us. 

 Unluckily, a patch of alders spread its 

 gnarled limbs between us and our 

 quarry, so to get an open shot we 

 moved down hill about 15 yards to one 

 side. 



This move we executed with the 

 greatest caution, as we had to cross a 

 glade in plain sight of the bear. Had it 

 not been for the cubs I doubt if we 

 could have approached without her see- 

 ing us ; as it was, she was nervous and 

 kept raising her head. I watched her 



through my field glasses occasionally, 

 and could see her soft, black nose and 

 tufted ears, shifting to every little 

 breeze and whisper of the grass. 



For a minute we lay in the shelter of 

 some bushes, arranging our rifles for 

 the work to come, and then we slowly 

 rose to our knees. Still she did not 

 see us, and we waited quietly for her 

 to move. 



She was the first brown bear I had 

 ever seen, and with the rugged moun- 

 tains and a sweep of Bering Sea for a 

 background, she made a noble picture. 



The cubs meanwhile had been settling 

 a serious quarrel. In the excitement 

 of their battle they had moved down 

 hill and the old bear, at last, decided 

 to join them. As her great shoulder 

 moved forward, Hubley's gun broke 

 the stillness, and a spurt of gravel be- 

 yond the bear showed that the shot was 

 high. 



The roar of the explosion in that sil- 

 ent place seemed to paralyze the bear. 

 She stood motionless, her great head 

 following the echoes as they boomed 

 and rumbled among the glaciers. 



I held low on her shoulder and 

 pulled; there was a puff of dust from 

 her tawny side, and we heard distinct- 

 ly the splashing thud of the bullet. She 

 bit savagely at the wound, and turned 

 completely around several times, shak- 

 ing her head. While she was turning 

 we each shot again, and both bullets 

 took effect. The next instant she dis- 

 appeared over a bank. 



Springing to our feet, we ran down 

 the mountain side, and soon found her 

 on the edge of an alder thicket. 



As we approached she rose to a 

 sitting position, but was too weak 

 to fight. 



One of the cubs took to the brush at 

 the first shot. The other stayed with its 

 mother to the last, and then charged us. 

 bawling with all its might. It started 

 for Hubley, and he threw down his rifle 

 and tried to rope it with his pack strap, 

 but failed. 



Meanwhile, I had put the old bear out 

 of pain and turned in time to see the 



