32 
THE BED MOUNTAIN OF ALASKA. 
good shot. He had no fear of missing a partridge or 
ptarmigan at thirty yards, with a single ball. 
The forest floor was encumbered with fallen and de- 
cayed logs, into whose crumbling sides he sank so often 
that his progress was slow. There was very little under- 
growth to impede his way, however, and within half an 
hour he reached sharply rising ground, which told him he 
was at the foot of the hill he had seen from camp. 
Up to this point he had kept within hearing of the 
stream, but now he turned off at right angles, thinking 
he would walk fifteen minutes and then retrace his steps. 
Before he had advanced far in this new direction, he 
found himself following a sort of trail. Indeed, it was 
almost a beaten path in the woods. 
"Ah ! " said Rob to himself, with some dissatisfaction, 
we have struck civilization again ! Here's a regular 
route for fur-traders, I've no doubt. AYell," he solilo- 
quized, as he sauntered lazily along the path, " I might as 
well — halloo!" 
He stopped and examined a track that was plainly out- 
lined in a patch of mud. It was shaped like the print of 
a huge human foot, fourteen inches long at the very 
least. Robert had not "trailed" from the Hudson's Bay 
settlements for nothing. He knew that no man had left 
that footprint. It was undoubtedly the track of a bear, 
and an enormous one, too ; possibly a grizzly. 
The boy's heart beat so hard that it seemed as if he 
must stifle. The " sign " was fresh. It certainly was not 
