Jan. 4, 1886.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
queting hall, and not the children's nursery. A bear 
thinks nothing of a little stroll of ten miles or so before 
or after eating. It aids his digestion, and in case of a 
female, as this was, wards off an attack of the nerves. 
Partinularly a bear with cubs would put at least that dis- 
tance between herself and hunters. Moreover, they are 
so clever that I doubt not this one knew already by srent 
and subtle process of ratiocination how many of us there 
were in camp, where we were from, the color of our hair, 
what sort of rifles we carried, their caliber, how heavy a 
bullet and how many grains of powder they fired. This 
is said in the light of after events and of further experi- 
ence. 
Tha.t afternoon, in our unjustifiably sanguine forecast, 
we had hopes of finding this particular bear. The half-wit- 
ted "Portugee," of whom I have spoken, showed especial 
zeal in the presence of the patron, and insisted, in spite 
of mild and t-epeated caution, in going ahead and scrupu- 
lously investigating every possible ambuscade where there 
was the remotest chance of finding the bear, or, which 
was more likely, of the bear finding him. In considera- 
tion of the fact that this was a she one which we were 
after, that she was proud and well fed, and on the look- 
out for pursuit, had the "Portugee" found her, she would 
in all probability have received his visit with cordial 
warmth. Not speaking his tongue fluently, I was unable 
to express my solicitude except by signs and admonitory 
gestures. The rest of the party apparently seemed to 
think that while the bear was interested and occupied 
with him, a good opportunity would be offered forgetting 
in a shot; and as Portuguese were a drug in the market 
ia that part of California, and grizzly bears, dead, a great 
rarity, he was suffered to contribute his mite to the suc- 
cess of la ehasse, and all went merrily. Not a thicket or 
a den did he leave un probed. 
An hour or two were spent in beating up the gulch to 
its head. Then a barren mountain side presented itself, 
three or four miles of it, with no shelter. Leonard ran 
the trail here like a dog, literally ran it, and the pack of 
hunters tailed behind him for a half or three-quarters of 
a mile. A bit before sundown we were at the edge of the 
chaparral — a tangle of bushes and quaking asp — rather 
a baddish place in which to stumble upon her serene high- 
ness. However, my companions did me the honor to pro- 
mote me to the ' Portugee's" place and function. With 
rifle across the crook of arm, we stole as silently as might 
be — the United Sbates army would have made more noise 
—into the jungle. Sunset overtook us up on the far edge 
with a stretch of open forest in sight, and, I doubt not, 
with Madam Bruin and her cubs miles ahead in some in- 
accessible snarl of bushes, where the crackling under- 
brush would warn her of approach as fully as could the 
most complete system of burglar alarms. 
^ That night, leaving word that whoever might be the 
first to stir in the morning should call me, I unrolled my 
blankets under a spruce somewhat apart from the crowd 
and was soon asleep. Before, day light I was astir, had a 
cup of coffee and a bite, and was off. Upon the previous 
afternoon I had picked the direction I would take, which 
was to skirt certain openings in the forest below. Fresh 
sign I saw that assured me of the excellence of the range 
for bear, but I encountered nothing alive worth powder 
and ball, and returned to camp about 9 o'clock. I was 
greeted by Leonard with the joyful news that during 
my absence he had seen from camp a big bear cross the 
side of the mountain only a mile or so away, and disap- 
pear over the ridge. This happened about 7 o'clock. The 
chief herder and my companion received the information 
somewhat in a spirit of respectful incredulity, but Leon- 
ard assured me that it was so, and we made preparations 
to follow the trail toward night. Meanwhile I breakfasted 
and slept. 
We left camp about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and 
without the slightest difficulty found the beast's trail ex- 
actly where the Mexican had said we should. Before this 
time I had killed an odd bear or so in Colorado, and had 
had some little experience in unraveling the trail of game. 
It may be rather priding myself upon the accomplish- 
ment, but let me here acknowledge the superiority of pro- 
fessional talent. Leonard, to all intents and purposes, 
had been born and raised on a sheep range. His earliest 
recollections had been of the sheep camps of the Sierras 
of the arch-enemy of the flock and of the havoc which 
he works. From infancy he, like all the herders, had 
been constantly upon the lookout for bear sign; it was his 
one keenest intellectual accomplishment and diversion. 
The result of this special training was such an acuteness 
of vision and nice discrimination of eye that he could 
clearly distinguish a bear's footprints upon the naked sand 
and gravel where at a quick glance I was unable to see 
any indication whatever. A single grain of sand dis- 
placed was sufficient to arrest his eye; he detected it in- 
stantly. . To him the minutest particle had its weather- 
beaten side as well as a boulder. A bear could not put 
his foot upon the ground without leaving an impress 
which he could detect, His talent was so quick and un- 
erring that we soon organizpd a division of labor. He 
was to concentrate his energies and attention upon the 
trail, while I, by his side or a step in advance, when the 
trail read itself and permitted such a course, was to watch 
ahead and around for both of us. Fortunately this ar- 
rangement was satisfactory to him. The hardest of the 
trail to decipher was where it was written in condensed 
short-hand across a mountain slide or coulisse of naked 
granite boulders. Here not one trace was to be found in 
a dozen yards. Fortunately we could trust in the genius 
of the bear; he was aware, as well as La, Place, that a 
straight line is the shortest distance between two points. 
He undoubtedly knew exactly where he was heading! 
We had his general direction, and by beating about for a 
tuft of grass here with a blade displaced, a stray goose- 
berry bush there with a leaf awry, and yonder a patch of 
thicker vegetation, betraying interference, we soon suc- 
ceeded, owing mainly to Leonard's genius as a pathfinder 
in getting through a couple of acres of this most vague 
and illegible pedography. At last we had the trail upon 
the mountain side once more, where, after such difficulties 
surmounted, following it was a comparative luxury. 
After having proceeded in this manner for perhaps two 
hours, we entered timber, and were obliged to advance 
with greater caution to avoid the slightest sound which 
might betray our presence and give the alarm. With 
two men the risk of doing this is increased in geometrical 
ratio. One. person alone, traveling through the woods, 
may, and almost certainly will, break an occasional twig 
under foot. If game is within hearing, the sound will 
inevitably be detected; the deer, if it be a deer, will lift 
its head and listen; but if the hunter stops and waits for a 
time, the chances are that the animal will, after due in- 
terval of silence, resume his feeding if so engaged, or his 
rumination, be it physical or moral, and the alarm may 
not prove fatal. Not so when companions are hunting 
together. It would seem as if the second man, with dread- 
ful promptness, never failed to snap bis twig also, which 
sounds as loud as a pistol coming upon the strained atten- 
tion of the listening beast, who is off like a streak, leaving 
the disappointed hunter, as he hears him crashing away, 
to moralize that company in the chase halves the pleasure 
and doubles the sorrow. The only safety where union is 
necessary is to proceed with exaggerated and fantastic 
caution. 
Leonard was a treasure in this. He had dreamt of 
grizzlies all his life, yet had never been in at the death. 
His heart was in the hunt — he fairly sighed for gore. We 
crept into the woods as silent as panthers and as "purry" 
in the ardor of the chase. After a mile or so our bear had 
come to an immense fallen spruce, lying across the trail, 
with the big butt, 5 or 6ft. in diameter, to our 
right, the top pointing up the hill. Over the middle of 
this, at right angles, lay another large tree, with the 
point toward us. I felt that behind the first of these, if I 
had been the original and unmolested settler in these 
paTts, as the bear was, with all the world before me where 
to choose, I should have made the bed for my morning 
nap. It was long after daylight when he had reached 
this covert. He had doubtless been stirring soon after 
sunset the evening before; he had, it is not unlikely, been 
traveling all night; had feasted heartily upon a sheep dur- 
ing that interval, and by the time he reached this place, 
which may have been in his mind from the start, was 
feeling comfortably Igzy and inclined to the refreshment 
of sleep. Behind that tree, bo admirably suited for the 
purpose, I trusted that he might still remain. The 
big end would protect a cool space from the heat of the 
morning sun, and we might yet be so lucky as to find him 
in his lair beneath its shelter. A signal to Leonard was 
enough, and we proceeded to circle the fallen timber, 
which fortunately the wind permitted, with all the cau- 
"the lost man" again. 
tion of which we were capable. Had the ger tV mm we 
were after been our dearest friend at the crisis of a fever, 
we could not have tiptoed about his bed with more solici- 
tude lest we disturb sweet slumber. The big tree lay in 
front of us; by this we crept at a respectful distance, and 
then approached the further end of the tree lying across 
it. With great care I sneaked up until I could look over 
its trunk at the desired point. Alas! no bear had made 
his nest there. 
Scrrowfully, but without a sound, I crawled upon the 
intervening log and slowly stood erect. There, directly 
beneath me, where I could have jumped into it most com- 
fortably, was the deserted form of the bear, which he 
had dug in the morning within an hour after Leonard had 
sren him, and in which the greater part of the day had 
been spent, until he had stirred abroad for water, with 
which to wash down the recollection of his muttons. Al- 
though ardently hoping that he was behind the tree, I 
had not in the least expected to find his bed in this par- 
ticular place. Had he stayed quietly there until our 
arrival, he would have given one of us a delicious sur- 
prise, and the mutual agitation of the moment might 
have induced a shot with unpremeditated haste, and pos- 
sibly have caused me to get off that fallen spruce tree in 
somewhat quicker time than I had climbed it. One 
naturally would not feel any keen desire to display his 
acrobatic skill in walking a log for the entertainment of 
an infuriated grizzly. A few hairs proclaimed him a cin- 
namon, who is either a variety of the grizzly or his hrst 
cousin— authorities differ; at all event3, he closely resem- 
bles him except in color, which, although of a uniform 
light, fady brown, might be an extreme type of the 
'•sorrel top" of the Rockies. In size the cinnamon fully 
holds his own with the grizzly; I should say that his head 
was rather longer. The generous excavation which this 
one had made showed that he was no mean representative 
of his species. 
Not 20yds. away, and near the end of the big tree 
where I had expected to find him, was a little spring. To 
this, still without a word, we proceeded, saw where he 
had stood to drink more than once, doubtless long and 
deep. To Our left, in the soft earth, lay his retreating 
footsteps— a continuation of the general direction of his 
previous course. A moment's pause for closer scrutiny, a 
smile and a whispered word exchanged— ju3t to show 
that we were not bored; then, respectful of the silence of 
the darkening woods, we were again upon the trail. It 
was now easy to see why he had left his lair; it faced the 
west, and the heat of the afternoon sun had annoyed 
him, warmly clad and irritable with high living. 
We had proceeded only about a stone's throw further 
when I caught a glimpse of our bear. Within twenty 
paces, under the shadow of a tree at the edge of a cool, 
umbrageous thicket, between him and the setting sun, lay 
the beast we were after; or, as I for a moment thought, 
judging from the great inchoate mass of brown fur, a 
pair, perhaps male and female, or one, it might be, a 
yearling cub. With finger lifted I signaled Leonard to 
stop. A great head was slowly raised and turnf d my 
way. A bullet between the eyes and down it went again, 
and I threw another cartridge into the chamber, expect- 
ing to see the second bear spring to his feet, ready to do 
whatever, in his judgment, the occasion required, either 
to fight or to run. Whichever he might elect to do, it 
was well to be prepared. "Give him another shot," said 
the prudent Leonard, and I fired a second time, sending 
this ball quartering and, like the first, through the brain; 
then I realized that there was but one, and he of credit- 
able size. We soon had him out in the open, for nothing 
is easier to roll about than a bear just killed. He is like 
a great jelly-fish, and I have seen a little terrier no larger 
than a rabbit worry and shake a great carcass four times 
as large as the most commodious kennel he could desire, 
provided he were a sensible pup and had the comfortable 
instinct of wild things for snugness rather than ostenta- 
tious display. Enough of daylight remained for us to get 
his pelt off, with head and claws unskinned and attached, 
and to hurry over the mountain by moonlight with oui- 
trophy, a junk of rank meat for such as might desire it 
not forgotten. 
We were cordially welcomed back to camp, and, after 
the usual pow-wow, the cook, with due formality, with 
Mexican chile and Spanish politeness, proceeded to con- 
coct the boasted chile con oso — a much overrated dish 
when made of a tough old cinnamon he bear. After I 
had turned in I heard much laughter, and subsequently 
learned that it was at an incident of the day. As we were 
starting out in the afternoon, and before we had struck 
the bear's trail, in order to avoid any possibility of a pre- 
mature shot I had casually inquired of Leonard if he 
wished to earn five dollars. 
"Certainly, St nor, I am always glad to get the chance." 
"Well, don't snoot then until I give the word, and you 
shalL have it." 
This circumstance Leonard had innocently narrated to 
the group around the camp-fire in the fuller elaboration 
of the hunt, and the story had an immediate success, the 
idea seeming to prevad that nothing in the world could 
have tempted him to fire before he was compelled to — 
which, as a matter of fact, I think was only prudent on 
his part, considering the arms he bore. 
The next morning, to the infinite cnagrin of some of us, 
the younger patron discovered that his presence was re- 
quired at home, where, if he was mildly chid by my 
friend, his elder brother, who in generosity to his junior 
had yielded his own place and the leadership of this expe- 
dition, I should not greatly grieve. 
I Upon the third day thereafter we regained the ranch, 
Alden Sampson. 
"THE LOST MAN " FOUND AGAIN. 
E lit or Forest and Stream: 
In your issue of D^c, 14 Mr. Frederic Irland gives an 
account of "A Lost Man," and. at the end of the article 
asks: "What do you suppose became of him? ' Well, the 
Lord only knows where ne is now, but we picked him up, 
lost again, on the Upper Mdlnoket Lake in the < xtrame 
northern part of Piscataquis county, Me., one e^tr ing in 
the middle of last September. 
We were paddling down the northern shore of the lake, 
just after nightfall, on our way to the home camp tn the 
lake below. Happening to look over to the further shore 
we saw a fire on tne edge of the woods, looking very much 
like a camp-fire. Puzzled to know who could be camping 
in such a place, for the shore at that point is low and 
boggy, we paddled over to investigate. As we came 
nearer we looked in vain for any sign of a tent or other 
habitation. Only the fire was visible, crackling and 
blazing and running up the trunk of an old dead pine, at 
the foot of which it was built. 
As we landed we heard some one say, "Hello, boys," 
and we came in sight of Mr. Irland's friend, huddled up 
m front of the fire. And a harddooking specimen he 
was. Tattered and torn, dirty and unshaven, he wore the 
wreck of what had once been a pair of trousers (now held 
together by strings), and on his feet were moccasins 
covered with swamp mud. We asked him who he was, 
where he was going, where he came from, but received 
only vague and unintelligible answers. He was lost, he 
said, and wanted to be put on his course again, that was 
all; was on his way to Moosehead Lake to get work. A 
lady and two men had come along in a canoe that day 
and given him some food, promising to send for him later 
and take him down to camp. He had had nothing to eat 
for twelve days. Now Moosehead Lake is seventy-five 
miles away in an air line from where we were, and it 
seemed to us that the man must be a lunatic. Finally we 
agreed to take him aboard and bring him down to camp 
with us. 
We were net sorry to arrive there, for a crazy man is " 
not the most desirable company in a canoe on a lake, 
and dark at that, Well, from what we learned from the 
old man on the way down, and afterward at camp, his 
story is something like this: His name is Cairns; Mr. 
Irland has given an excellent description of him, and we 
inclose a photograph, taken by us at the camp. 
He came up the road from Oakfield, on the Bangor & 
Aroostook R. R., to Oxbow, a settlement on the Aroos- 
took River, intending to turn off part way up, taking the 
road leading westward to Patten, and to go from Patten 
by tote roads to Moosehead Lake. He took the; wrong fork 
of the road and went on to Oxbow, and from there fol- 
lowed the Millnoket tote road to Millnoket Lake, where 
it ends. This road runs through the wilderness, and there 
are no houses on it. When the old man arrived at the 
lake, still thinking he was on his way to Moosehead, he 
struck off into the woods, hoping to find the road again. 
He had lost count of the days of the week, but as nearly 
as we could find out he had been wandering about that 
desolate, sbaggy wilderness for two weeks. He had a lit- 
tle food with him at first, but it was soon exhausted, and 
for the last twelve days he had eaten nothing but woat he 
picked up in the woods. He knew it was twelve days, he 
said, because he counted thirty-six meals he didn't navel 
