CINNAMON BEAR. 
I 99 
found, as too sacred to be used except in a last 
extremity. It is useless to longer imagine that 
the picture memory holds of their utter ugliness 
and filth can ever be changed. Hot chemicals 
are no longer possible to them, and cold water 
would be powerless on a Ute ! 
Mrs. Maxwell’s party made this location their 
head-quarters for a while as they continued their 
search for elk. A new set of hunters were em- 
ployed. They, like the others, “ knew just where 
elk were to be found.” “ Nobody ever went to 
that place that didn’t see elk ! ” The party went 
with them, and their combined efforts resulted in 
finding some old tracks. 
A dash of intense excitement, however, was 
given their fruitless search, for they came upon a 
cinnamon bear, and all gave it chase, firing at it 
several times. It was the only game, larger than 
a rabbit, they saw during the whole four days of 
their absence. 
They then started for Whiteley’s Peak, about 
forty miles distant. Most of the way there was 
no wagon-track whatever, and that necessary 
vehicle was as nearly bottom-side up a good 
share of the way, as the laws of gravitation would 
permit and allow anything to remain in it. The 
new hunters declared nothing saved it from being 
“ smashed up” but the fact that Mr. Maxwell 
would sing instead of swear, in all the worst 
places ! 
