FOREST AND STREAM. 
1769; and at last in passing a quiet hour in the 
old Episcopal Church of Bruton parish, the old- 
est church building in Virginia, still iiii good 
repair, with commemorative tablets set in the 
chancel -walls, and most interesting tombs of departed 
worthies in the churchyard. One inscription was so 
fervent that it should be given place here, premising by 
saying that its author, notwithstanding his faithful senti- 
ments, is said to have married twice afterward: 
Here lies all that the 
Grave can claim of 
Mrs. Ann Samson Brown, 
Consort of the 
Rev. Soveran Brown. 
If woman ever yet did dwell: 
If woman ever did excell: 
If woman Husband ere adored: 
If woman ever loved the Lord: 
In human flesh did love and move: 
If all the graces ere did meet: ' 
In her, in her, they were complete. 
My Ann, my all, my Angel Wife, 
My dearest one, my love, my life; 
I cannot say or sigh farewell, 
But where thou dwellest, I will dwell. 
The Algonquin. 
Sombrero Days. 
It is a cold and dreary December day; a strong north 
wind is driving before it a storm of rain and sleet, cov- 
ering everything it touches with a coating of ice. The 
Green Mountains and the Adirondacks are shut from 
view as if Dame Nature, enraged at the elements and 
the general dreariness of the scene, had drawn a cur- 
tain across the face of the country. Down in the pro- 
tected portions of the bay the seagulls have sought 
shelter from the pitiless sleet. But out in the open the 
great rollers are coming in and breaking on the reef 
with a dull moaning roar, as if they too were adding a 
protest to Dam Nature's. The saucy little English spar- 
rows are fo,r the once subdued, and have sought shel- 
ter under the eaves with many loud chirpings; and 
following- their example, I also will stay under shelter 
and not venture down town to-day. 
Lunch is just over, and I decide to pass the afternoon 
in my usual rainy day way, in overhauling my hunting 
and fishing outfits. But after lighting my pipe I de- 
cide to let the outfits go; and I unlock a little brass-bound 
trunk that contains many and many a souvenir of for- 
est, field and stream. How the old things serve to 
burnish up memories of the past. 
, That old brass reel, with its twenty or more yards 
of line wound tightly round its spindle, and yet green 
where it was dragged over the rocks and moss, when I 
had the fight with the big cat below the old mill dam 
on the Bhie River of Nebraska. And that bunch of 
frayed flies and broken leaders, how the trout and bass 
seem to rise up and confront me; but one pang of re- 
morse darkens memory's pages, as the frayed end of 
that leader reminds me of the big one I failed to net, 
and again I seem to hear the laughter of the little 
mountain brook up in the Wyoming hills when that 
leader parted and the big one rushed down stream 
free. 
That beaded buckskin tobacco bag, that now contains 
arrow heads and a few medicine herbs of the Sioux, re- 
minds me of my hunt in the bad lands with Sitting 
Bull's braves before the fight at Wounded Knee. The 
broken blade of a hunting knife, the skull of a prairie 
dog of South Dakota, a pair of beaded moccasins taken 
from one of Big Foot's braves by a friqnd in the gth 
Cavalry. A horse-hair chain and hat band of the same 
material bring to mind a trip into sunny Mexico. A 
bear claw that was given me by Hog Jaw, chief of the 
Otoe tribe. The tusk of a peccary that I shot on the 
Rio. The polished hoof of an antelope that was killed 
near the Yellowstone Park; and then I lay tenderly aside 
article after article'till I come to the old battered som- 
brero of my boyhood days. 
Again I see the little band of savages camped under 
the "three maples" above the pontoon bridge. Five in 
number, but of that experience only acquired by young- 
sters who are raised on the frontier. They are Will, 
Sheely, Harry, the Deacon and myself. Camp has been 
pitched by the bent and scarred trunks of the three 
maples, a brisk fire is burning in front of the tent, and 
Sheely is busy with the_ frying-pan and coffee-p#t, while 
the l5eacon is cleaning a couple of channel cats caught 
on our way up the ri^^er. Will is just returning with a 
pail of water from the spring, and Harry is getting up 
wood and arranging a covering to keep it from the 
storms. This is the sight that gladdens my eyes as I 
run the Httle black canoe up on the beach in front of 
the camp. What more beautiful picture can one desire 
than the one now before me? The white tent thrown into 
prominence by the dark background of foliage, the busy 
figures round the fire, the soft murmur of the river, and 
an tins framed in by a sky painted with the hues of 
the sun's departing rays. And as I sit and take in this 
scene, across the river I hear the call of Bob White 
and the honking of a flock of geese on their way north, 
for the time is spring. The air is filled with the many 
sounds of bird life bidding farewell to the departing 
god of day. And the very leaves seem to share in the 
general worship, for there is a perceptive rustle and 
sighing in the tree tops as the sun sinks out of sight. 
I am rudely aroused from my reverie by the banging 
on a tin pan and a cry of "muck, muck!" Mooring the 
black canoe by the side of its mate, and picking up rod 
and Winchester, I join the group by the fire. Thus, year 
after year, this little band of "sombrero savages" had 
camped by mountain, forest and stream, and had roamed 
the broad Western prairies on their hardy little Indian 
ponies. 
But, ah! I have been dreaming again. And as I knock 
the ashes from my pipe and reverently put back into the 
little trunk the treasures of long ago, I am brought back 
to the present by the clanging of the bells on the electrics 
as they pass the door ; the droning of the lake on the 
bar; the dashing of the rain against my window, which 
forcibly reminds me that I am "chained to business." 
But "manana," there is always a "manana," and maybe 
one of them will see me again at the old haunts of my 
boyhood's savage days. But the participants in these 
camps! Where are they? Some may., be camping in 
the "Happj' Hunting Grounds," while others may be in 
the busy whirl of business; but if they chance to read 
these lines they may bring back to them as pleasant 
memories of the past as it does me to call them back 
to the present. Ak-Sar-Ben. 
Rocky Mountain Bears. 
A VERY interesting study of the evolution of animal 
habits and characteristics under changing conditions of 
life and surroundings is aiYorded by the bears of the 
Rocky Mountains during the last twenty years. 
Up to within a short time ago, a period so short that 
to many of us it seems but yesterday, the bear was one of 
the animals most frequently seen in the mountains. In 
the old daj's the bear was a beast of the open country, 
a daylight traA^eler, seeking his food when and how he 
pleased. As neither the white trapper nor the Indian made 
a practice of molesting bruin, killing him only when the 
occasion called for it, bears had very little fear of human 
beings. 
More than one old he grizzly has made me give the 
trail, just because I did not happen to have a gun. I re- 
member one morning, in Colorado, in the days when it 
was even up whether the Utes or the cow-puncher should 
possess the land. It was at a horse camp in the mountains, 
and one of the boys had gone out to bring in the saddle 
horses. Riding down a trail in the quaking aspens, he 
came face to face with a big grizzly, and being a polite 
youth gave the trail and went on. Hunting among the 
parks for strayed ponies, he met Old Ephraim again, and 
again gave the trail. But when this happened a third time 
he came back into camp, remarking that bears were too 
thick out there for him, and if anybody wanted horses 
they could get them themselves. 
That was a great bear country, anyway. One moonlight 
night the foreman, hearing a noise at the end of the cabin, 
went out, and turning the corner suddenly ran slap into 
three silver tips that had pulled down our supply of veni- 
son and were regaling themselves. Instead of coming in 
quietly, George came in on the jun p, yelling for a gun, 
and as a result all we sa$e was three shadows slipping into 
the timber when the rest of us rushed out. 
Not long after this I discovered that you cannot always 
tell how big a bear is by looking at him. The day it hap- 
pened, one of the boys had a cub up a tree. As he had 
no weapons, he had tried to kill the cub with rocks, but 
had only succeeded in knocking it out of the tree. He 
said that it went off on three legs. As I was coming into 
camp that evening I passed near the spot where I had 
killed a buck the day before, leaving the forequarters in 
the woods. As I came close I saw _a small black bear 
feeding at the carcass. Seeing me, it ran off on three 
legs, and as my horse was afraid of bears I jumped off and 
took after it afoot, thinking that I was chasing the lame 
cub. I overhauled the bear hand over fist, and was within 
50ft. when it turned and stood up. To say that I was as- 
tonished is putting it mildly. That bear overtopped me by 
2ft., turning out to be the biggest black bear that I 
ever killed. He got a .45-70 through the chest in short 
order, and when skinning him I discovered that he had 
eight buckshot in one elbow, the joint being perfectly 
stiff, which of course handicapped the old fellow. 
It is very hard to guess tbe size of a bear when he is 
moving in grass or brush. A bear moves with a rolling 
gait hard to describe, and gives one no idea of his size. 
One moment he appears lot't. long, and the next he 
draws up to nothing. Even when one is close up to a 
bear in open ground you never can tell how big he is 
until you have him down. 
Of course, there are times when a bear appears very 
large indeed. I remember one big grizzly that rose up 
out of some brush about 20ft. away once on a time. As" I 
remember that bear, he was at least 20ft. high and 10 
wide, while his roar was something awful. At any rate, 
I forgot what I was there for and did not remember un- 
til I was out of that brush. To be sure, the bear had a 
trap on one foot, but a trap without any clog affects a 
big grizzly much the same way as pounding his finger 
does a man. 
Those big bears were pretty cranky at all tit-iies. A few 
days before this row one of these old fellows had killed 
a big stallion, and catching him at the carcass, I cracked 
him one with a six-shooter just for luck. The bear was 
standing tip on his hindlegs at the time and the buflet 
barked his neck. The big brute slapped the side of his 
neck with his paw, let out a roar that could be heard a 
mile, and then the way he made my pony get up and dust 
out of there was a caution. When he stopped I kept right 
on, and went back to camp after a rifle. When I got back 
the old fellow had gone, but to show how plentiful and 
bold bears were at that time, I saw five at the carcass at 
different times that afternoon, killed one of them, 
wounded another, and let the rest get away. 
Even at that time bears were sometimes very cunning. 
There was one old cinnamon that it took seven days to 
trap. I had killed a deer and set a trap, and that night 
the old fellow came around. I had wounded a deer at the 
same time that I had killed the bait, but had not found it. 
The old bear, however, picked it up, brought it down 
alongside the trap, ate it up, pulled the bait otit of the 
pen, ate what he wanted, and went off. And for six nights' 
he came back, every night nearly eating a whole deer, 
which I took pains to keep ready for him, but never get- 
ting caught. By the sixth night I had three traps set for 
him, and a solid log pen 5ft. high, 15ft. long, and about 2 
wide. By this time I had a half wagon-lqad of bones 
piled up in the end of the pen, on top of which I used to 
place his nightly lunch. I had one trap set in the pen, 
and the other two set where I thought the bear might 
step. But he didn't. He would come along, step care- 
fully over the trap in the pen, grab hold of his fresh 
deer, back out carefully again, dragging, the baft over 
the trap and springing it. eat what he wanted and depart. 
The seventh night, though, he came to grief. I took an 
old bouble- barrel, muzzle-loading shotgun of lo-gauge 
and put ten drams of powder in each barrel; then on top 
of that I put slugs of lead two inches long. Then I fixed 
the gun tmder the pile of bones so that it raked the pen 
lengthwise, put a new deer on top of the bones, ran a 
string from the bait to the trigger, cocked both barrels 
and went down to camp, a mile or so away. An hour 
or so after dark the gun went off, and directly after I 
heard the bear roaring. Next morning I went up, but 
things were not as I expected to find them. The bear had 
gone into the pen and pulled the bait, both barrels had 
gone off and never touched him. How it happened I 
have never been able to figure out. The pen was just 
wide enough to let him in, the muzzle of the gun was 
just under the bait, and both slugs were in a quaking asp 
tree that stood opposite the mouth of the pen. And the 
bear was in the pen when the gun went of¥, because the 
marks of his teeth were on the bait, and he was hard and 
fast by the hindleg in the trap that had been set at the 
mouth of the pen. I always thought that when the gun 
went off in his face he got so badly rattled that he forgot 
about the trap and backed into it, though how those 
slugs missed him is beyond me. Of course, he might 
have been crawling on his befly, and the slugs have gone 
over his back, btit it did not seem as if there were room. 
And if the charge went between his legs it looks as if 
the hair would have been powder-burned, which it was 
not. 
The cunning of some of the old bears is almost beyond 
belief. There was one big grizzly that several of us 
hunted off and on for years, but neither traps nor still 
hunting nor dogs had any effect. And he is there yet, 
waiting for some lucky hunter. 
tie belongs to a variety of grizzly that inhabits bad- 
land countries, and is called locally ranger bear. He is a 
long-legged, slab-sided, big-headed beast, with rough hair. 
As a rule, they live on cattle, nearly all the bad lands be- 
ing cattle country'. Having to travel, as they do, long dis- 
tances for food and water, they are great rtmners, hav- 
ing plenty of wind and staying qualities. Whenever this 
bear that I speak of came where a trap was set, if he hap- 
pened to be hungry he would nose out the trap, turn it 
bottom side up, and eat what he wanted of the bait. But 
as he generally killed his own food, baits had very little 
attraction for him. Several times he was taken for a big 
roan bull by those seeing him after dusk or at a distance, 
but of the many hunters who were alwc*ys after him none 
ever got a shot. 
Up until along in the 80s bears were not hunted much; 
but along about '89 the skins took a jump in price, and at 
the same time some of the Western States put a bounty 
on bruin. This made hunting them profitable, and they 
commenced to decrease rapidly. Before this time hardly 
any one killed them except during the short season in 
spring and fall when the fur was good. But now, when 
every bear, cubs and all, were worth $10 apiece, the poor 
brutes had no rest. As a usual thing, bears lake bait 
poorly during the early spring and lace fall, but during 
July and August they take any kind of animal food, car- 
rion or not, greedily. Conseqitently, most of the bears 
trapped for bounty were kiUed when the fur was not good, 
and any number of b^ars had only the scalps taken. 
From this time on bears began to cliange their habits 
greatly. 
Bears go into winter quarters when the first heavy snows 
and cold weather begin, which is usually in November 
in the Rockies. In the old days they would den up right 
in open country. A bear's winter den is nearly always on 
a north hillside, where the snow falls deepest, and if 
possible tliey choose a place where a drift will form. 
Sometimes a bear will den up in a natural cave or crevice, 
but more often will dig himself a hole 10 or 12ft. deep. 
Nowadays this den is almost alwaj's in the roughest coun- 
try he can find, and is generally pretty well up in the 
mountains in heavy spruce timber. A bear may make his 
den early in the season, but until cold weather drives him 
in he roams around a lot. For nearly a month before 
denning bears eat very little, or not at all, and before they 
go in for good the stomach and intestines are frequently 
clean and empty. The stomach is drawn up into a solid 
lump like a chicken's gizzard, and the bear is a solid mass 
of fat, inside and out. Along in February or March, 
when bruin comes out again, he is still hog fat, and he 
keeps this fat until the snow is pretty well gone. When 
he first comes out he does not travel much, but as the 
weather warms up he soon runs off all his fat, though I 
have seen very fat bears as late as the middle of May, 
after the trees were green. As vegetation starts, bears live 
almost altogether on grass, roots, etc., though, of course, 
they will often eat meat. Still, I have had baits right 
among the bears, with bears passing within 50ft. of the 
baits every night, and it was the middle of June before one 
of them touched a bait, and then they were at the baits 
all the time. 
Even now bears feed a good deal in the open in the 
spring, when they are not molested, and spring is by far 
the best time to hunt them. But, as a usual thing, a bear 
nowadays keeps pretty well under cover. During the day 
he finds the thickest brush or timber that he can, and 
there he stays, slipping away quietly at the slightest sus- 
picious noise. It used to be that if a bear heard or saw 
something that he did not imderstand, he would stand 
up on his hindlegs to look. And if he was suddenly 
startled he would often after running a way stop and 
stand up to look back. I have killed several bears in thick 
brush by getting close to them, knowing about where 
they were, and then speaking aloud. Bruin would nearly 
always stand up to investigate, thus giving me a shot at 
his head. But now a bear that hears a human voice 
hardly ever stops to look, btit gets away on the jump. 
The blacks and cinnamons also used to tree very easily. 
I have run a good many up trees by giving them a sharp 
run on horseback for a mile or so in open timber, and 
have run two up trees by chasing them on foot. And 
twice I have missed bears at rather close range and had 
them take to trees. In one instance the bear went up the 
nearest tree; in the other the bear, a she with cubs, bolted 
a hundred yards or so before she treed. And speaking of 
cubs I never saw but one she bear that would not bolt and 
leave her cubs when attacked. The exception was a small 
cinnamon, and I got between her and her cub and got 
charged. Only the other day I saw three ol the dogs 
maul a grizzly cub until you could hear him squall for a 
mile, and the old bear all the time was standing in the 
