CATCHING THE BRONX PARK MERRIAMI 



215 



cub make one snap at Hubley's trousers, 

 and start for the bottom of the canon. 

 We finally caught him in the glacial 

 stream, as he was helpless in the swift 

 water. 



Now that we had the cub captured, 

 we wondered how we should get him 

 to camp. Leading proved a signal fail- 

 ure, for he scratched and bit at the rope 

 incessantly, and when we went through 

 brush he would embrace it with all four 

 feet, and howl until the mountains 

 echoed. 



As we wore several pair of heavy 

 socks in our shoe packs, we used them 

 to muzzle the cub's mouth and paws, 

 and then rolled him in a pack strap. 



On the following day 

 we packed the big bear- 

 skin into camp, and 

 looked for the other cub, 

 but we never saw it 

 again. 



Packing our captive 

 kept us busy ; he yelled 

 with untiring energy 

 during the long tramp, 

 and seemed to take a 

 fiendish delight in kick- 

 ing our ribs with his be- 

 stockinged feet. I know 

 of many summer sports 

 more pleasant than 

 packing crazy bear cubs 

 down icy mountain 

 sides. Once at camp, 

 he pushed his nose into a 

 condensed milk can, and 

 then he was happy. 



Our captive was a 



male, and a splendid specimen. He 

 was, and still is, the only living merri- 

 ami beai in captivity. He was darker 

 in coloi than his mother, and had a 

 white ring on his neck, that disap- 

 peared as he grew older. He did not 

 take kindly to captivity, and, although 

 he was always interesting, he never be- 

 came affectionate. 



The little fellow was with us on all 

 our trips, and saw many a huge bear 

 skin come out of the mountains on 

 our shoulders. At the end of the sea- 

 son we led him across the mountains 

 to the Pacific Ocean. 



Only twice after his capture was 

 his fighting blood aroused. On the 

 first outbreak, Howe 

 was carry i n g him 

 through the water, from 

 our boat to the beach, 

 and got badly bitten. 

 On the second occasion 

 he tore a finger from 

 the hand of a sailor who 

 was teasing him. 



From the islands in 

 the North Pacific, An- 

 drew J. Stone started 

 him on his journey of 

 5,000 miles to Bronx 

 Park, where he is now 

 growing large and mus- 

 cular. 



I have visited him 



once or twice in his new 



home, thinking he might 



fyk3* De glad to see me, but 



°f he ignored my advances, 



which is not surprising. 





<■ S*r$P' : * 



I.ifcyV 



