MAINLY ABOUT BEARS 49 



Up in the northeastern corner of the Park, off 

 the beaten highway, is a little camp — Camp Roose- 

 velt. It is not much sought except by the initiate 

 (I shall tell you more about it later), but herel really 

 became acquainted with a Yellowstone bear. We 

 arrived for late lunch spread in a tent. About five 

 o'clock an old cinnamon and her cub came down to 

 the garbage pile, for their supper, perhaps a hundred 

 yards from our sleeping tent. We walked down 

 to see her. She sent the cub up first, then fol- 

 lowed, up a big Douglas spruce, sat there twenty 

 feet from the ground and watched us, unafraid 

 but declining to associate with us. I sent Dud- 

 geon up a nearby tree to get a snapshot of her, 

 but she managed to get the tree between herself 

 and the camera. After a while we retired a little 

 way and she came down and resumed her supper. 

 Presently came stealing around, furtive, shy, 

 timid, my bear — the one bear that I claim for my 

 very own out of the Hundred. Poor little Billy 

 Bear approached with such an humble counte- 

 nance, with such insinuating small whinings, ex- 

 pressive of hunger, that it would have melted the 



