Feb. 20, 1909.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
295 
“He’s dead,” said the guide. 
“Let us go and get him,” was my answer. 
“No, nobody but a fool would go near a 
wounded grizzly. I will get him this afternoon.” 
So we marched on. A handful of hair ripped 
out of a long seam along his side was all we 
ever found of that bear. 
We saw six grizzlies on that hunt. We found 
daily traces of grizzlies, but never could get near 
one. One night after the sun was behind the 
Selkirks we sat on the slope of a high peak and 
fired a half mile down; first at some cougars 
playing on the snow, and later at a solitary bear. 
But the guide could not find blood the next day. 
Time and again we saw bears nights and days, 
but a man is very conspicuous when he travels 
against the skyline and very noisy when he at¬ 
tempts to descend the rattling slides of stone. 
Our hunting was too late in the season for bears 
to stand well. 
This last year the foreman, Andrew Babcock, 
and myself went up without a guide. All day 
we struggled up those nearly perpendicular 
mountain sides. About 6 P. M. we had our 
tepee up for the night’s camp. When the cayuses 
were picketed and our night’s bacon and coffee 
had been stowed away, it seemed right to go 
out and sit on a bluff some 200 paces the other 
way from the camp. There you can watch a 
far off slide to a coulee which runs from the 
slide between the cliffs toward the camp. Below 
us we could see where the wild garlic had been 
rooted out of the soft mud at the side of the 
brook that runs from the slide. We sat there 
deathly still, Andrew and our to}^ cocker Rose, 
and myself. At last the sun went down behind 
the Selkirks and instantly we were cold. It had 
bfeen hot and we had worked hard. The remark 
passed that we might as well give it up. Accord¬ 
ing to habit I looked up and down the coulee 
sharply, saying, “Yes, we will go.” Suddenly 
I stiffened up and looked again and cried, “An¬ 
drew, I see a grizzly.” 
“Where?” 
“Just under the slide way off there behind that 
solitary bull pine. See their tails bob up?” 
“That can’t be bears,” he replied; “grizzlies 
have no tails of any account. It must be 
cougars.” 
But it proved to be the heads of two big 
cubs bobbing up and down, first appearing and 
then hiding behind the bushes. Soon a large 
grizzly walked out toward us and as it came 
nearer we could hear it snouting into the lush 
mud for garlic and grunting like a giant pig. 
It might have gone east or west or north or 
south, but it came in a bee line for us. Then 
another appeared, then two cubs big enough, it 
would seem, to be yearlings. 
Rose kept perfectly quiet, perhaps frozen with 
terror; but really. Rose is very lion-hearted when 
her master is in front of her. The bears came 
on down our ravine until the first one was 
directly under us. 
“Andrew,” said I, “I will say ‘one, two, three,’ 
and then we will fire.” 
But Andrew thought he was to fire then, with¬ 
out any other one, two, three. His shot rang 
out rather too soon. But mine followed it be¬ 
fore Andrew’s arrived. “Hurrah,” said Andrew, 
losing all caution in the excitement; “you have 
knocked that one over.” 
Now, be it noted that a bear appears to have 
disappeared for three da3's and a half at that 
point. Directly came the second great one. We 
fired at that. It went off perpendicularly. With 
cries the two big cubs ran and we fired at them. 
I wish I could have a picture of them standing 
in grotesque fashion, holding their heads high 
and stretching their paws in inquiry here and 
there like enormous gophers standing up against 
the twilight reflection of the departed sun, as if 
demanding with heads and paws, “where does 
all this come from?” 
Andrew had thirteen ordinary smokeless shells 
while I had five patent smokeless cartridges for 
my magazine rifle. “Let’s get home,” said An¬ 
drew ; “we have two dead bears.” 
The next morning we searched with Rose here, 
there and everywhere. We found blood right 
where the bears were at the first shot. We fol¬ 
lowed that trail, a good trace of blood every 100 
feet until the trail gave out; then we branched 
out to the west and struck another blood track 
and followed that apparently to where the cubs 
had joined the old ones and ceased crying. In 
despair we gave it up without losing our confi¬ 
dence that there was a dead bear. 
That night a strange hunter came in with a 
letter and a hound, and he also hunted half a 
day with his hound and found no bear. Then 
we hunted again for bears seen at a great dis¬ 
tance off with the glasses. Nothing doing. Sun¬ 
day morning was the third day. Somewhat 
solemnly the two of us sat on the same bluff 
with Rose. Rose unexpectedly threw out her 
chest and growled portentously in a certain direc¬ 
tion. Without exciting remark on my part, An¬ 
drew took up a line on a scientific investigation 
in the direction toward which Rose had growled. 
In a moment he threw up his arm and said, 
“There is our bear.” 
She had not gone 300 feet from where we hit 
the first bear. She was a mighty creature, with 
a most beautiful, rough hide, apparently in good 
condition, and finely tipped with silver; but it 
was too late for two ordinary white men to skin 
her. Two could not even turn her around. With 
fires and carbolic acid we managed to get her 
head off, and it is now at the taxidermist’s to 
witness this tale. Next time we will take an 
Indian to do the skinning. The great creature 
had one ball behind the fore shoulders, the 
favorite shot at a deer. The other ball struck 
her right in the vertebrae, just forward of the 
shoulder and broke her neck at that point. 
Andrew is much the better shot, but who had 
the best bullet? Andrew’s theory is that any 
bullet is good enough if rightly placed. My 
scientific theory is that you need the power be¬ 
hind a spreading bullet, and that the spread did 
it. There is a story in that neighborhood that 
an Indian put seventeen shots from an ordinary 
rifle into a grizzly and that thereafter the same 
grizzly ate the Indian. 
Thinking many things and all of them pleas¬ 
ant, -we went joyfully down the mountainside 
to the ranch, restoring the faithful ponies to 
their friends, the yet unbroken ponies in the 
pasture above the river. I wish you might see 
them. There is not a “bully or a coward” among 
my horses. As Henry Bergh said, “All (my) 
horses are more gentlemen than most men or any 
man,” of a certain nationality. This might be 
truly said even of my mares. Neither are they 
of any common breed. All of course have 
Spanish ancestry. Some have French coach 
blood, some English cob, and some Yankee thor¬ 
oughbred. Come and see them and recognize 
the truth of what I tell you. Come some even¬ 
ing and stay over night. W. G. Peckham. 
A Newfoundland Bear Story. 
St. John’s, N. F., Feb. 5. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: The following extract from a local 
paper will be of interest to bear hunters. 
“A few days ago a number of men went in 
the country about fifteen miles from Cape Broyle 
hunting game, and on reaching Hercules Pond 
in hunting about, located a bear’s cave which 
contained five bears, the male and female adults 
and three cubs. The men who were there sur¬ 
rounded the cave and resorted to every device 
to get bruin from his lair, but without effect, 
until they started a huge fire about the spot and 
tried to smoke them out. After quite a while 
the man who found the cave, J. Carey, succeeded 
in getting a fine cub, six months old, to come 
out, and it was shot. Over 100 pounds of bear 
grease was taken from the body and a fine skin 
with a supply of bear steak was also obtained. 
The other animals came to the opening and 
growled, but would not leave, and the men have 
the place surrounded with the idea of killing 
them. The two bears are very large animals.” 
W. J. Carroll. 
Canadian Camp Dinner. 
The seventh annual dinner of the Canadian 
Camp will be held at the Hotel Astor, Broad¬ 
way and Forty-fourth street. New York, on 
Tuesday, March 2. Rev. Nehemiah Boynton, of 
Brooklyn, will be toastmaster. The guest of 
honor will be C. J. Jones, better known as “Buf¬ 
falo” Jones, who will speak on man, the master 
of all animals. Other speakers will be L. F. 
Brown, of New York, who will describe whal¬ 
ing off Vancouver Island, showing slides; John 
J. White, Jr., of New York, who will speak on 
hunting in British East Africa, and Aubrey 
Danvers, of Denver, who will talk on “Ten 
Years of African Big Game.” 
The dinner will be informal. The members 
and guests will assemble at 6 o'clock for the 
reception, while the dinner will be served 
promptly at seven. Among the attractions for 
this year are promised monkey, whale blubber 
and cactus. Persons interested in procuring 
further information about the occasion should 
address C. C. Chatfield, 17 East Forty-fifth 
street. New York. 
ArCalifornia ‘Buck. 
From E. R. Cuthbert we have received a photo¬ 
graph of the mounted head of a mule deer shot 
by him Sept. 4. igo8. The half-tone cut shown on 
page 294 is a reproduction from the photograph. 
This deer dressed 207 pounds and was taken 
near Klamath Hot Springs, in Siskiyou county, 
California. The rifle which was photographed 
with the head has a 22-inch barrel and a total 
length of 42 inches, which will give a fair idea 
of the size of head and antlers. 
PURITY ESSENTIAL. 
In no other form of food is Purity so abso¬ 
lutely essential as in milk products. Rich¬ 
ness is also necessary, as without richness, 
milk is of little value as a food. Purity and 
richness are the embodiment of Borden’s 
Eagle Brand Condensed Milk. As a food for 
infants or for general household purposes it 
has no equal.— Adv. 
