532 
on the upper end of the slide, climbed up to a 
shelf of rock that ran along the side of the 
mountain just above the timber line, paralleling 
the big flats on the river. For almost one hour, 
he walked slowly along this ledge, all the while 
in plain sight of us, about two thousand feet 
above us and perhaps four thousand feet dis¬ 
tant in an air line. As he proceeded up the side 
of the valley, we, too, moved up the river flats. 
We decided he was heading to come out on the 
upper end of the big slide. I remarked to 
Closson, “I wonder if he knows how near he is 
to either a good meal (referring to the coyote 
carcass), or eternity.” Leaving our horses, we 
discarded all extra clothing and prepared to 
make our first climb after a Grizzly. We even 
threw off our hats. The going was bad. Up, up, 
up! I was fresh from the East and office. 
Time after time I felt I could not climb a step 
farther. At last we reached a point two hun¬ 
dred yards below the green spot on the slide. 
Almost immediately afterwards, he came off 
the shelf on the green. He stopped, half lay 
down, got up on his hind legs, then half turned 
a somersault and went through all sorts of un¬ 
usual motions. Closson lay half concealed by 
the edge of the willows. I had moved out, and 
so as to better use my rifle, stood in plain view. 
“Old Ephriam” looked our way a couple of 
times, but apparently did not make us out. 
Closson said, “Do you think we are close 
enough?” I said, “Yes.” He said, ‘Wait until 
he turns broadside and then get busy.” A 
moment later he presented his left side. I 
obeyed orders. When hit he ran about a hun¬ 
dred yards, plunged into a thicket of mountain 
willows and disappeared from sight. Closson 
ran up and a moment later called back to me, 
“He’s in the willows. Go in from the side. I’ll 
go in up here and come down to join you, but 
look out.” If any one had told me before I 
started on this trip that I would be found crawl¬ 
ing on hands and knees one hundred yards into 
a thick patch of willows after a big wounded 
grizzly, when I couldn’t see over twenty-five 
feet ahead of me I would have said, “You’re 
crazy but I’m not.” But such is the excitement 
of the chase, that down on all fours and in I 
went. After Closson and I met, we moved 
farther down. There stood the grizzly twenty 
feet below us. He was soon down for good. 
Was he fat? Yes, very fat. His fur in prime 
condition. A big specimen. He measured, just 
as he lay crouched up on the mountain side, 
over all, seven feet six inches, from nose to tail. 
The hide, when removed, taped eight feet six 
inches, without undue stretching. We estimated 
him to weigh about six hundred and fifty 
pounds. We left him. We went to camp, ar¬ 
riving about dark. We were tired, but with that 
tired contentment that comes with the success¬ 
ful hunt. Had we not hunted, found, stalked, 
fought and conquered in the open the biggest 
and most noted of all big game animals to be 
found on the North American Continent? For 
seven long days we had worked hard to reach 
this end. We had brought into play our best 
efforts—all the native skill, all the tracking 
sense we possessed. We had brought into play 
leg muscle of which we did not think we were 
capable. 
Of all the big game I have hunted, I know 
none that can match the grizzly in quickness of 
foot. Grizzlies move along with a shiftless, 
FOREST AND STREAM 
ambling gait that doesn’t look much for speed 
but a grizzly will cover the first hundred yards 
or so more quickly than any antelope I have 
ever seen, and these latter are recorded as being 
the very fastest of all game animals. Talk 
about looking for a tree to climb—why, a 
grizzly would be on a fellow before he got 
four feet off the ground, although it were an 
even start, and the tree were right alongside of 
you. I had kept visions of “tree-stories” be¬ 
fore me, but after I saw this—our first grizzly— 
run, I ceased to give a tree any further thought. 
My advice to any fellow after grizzlies Is “pump 
lead and do it fast.” If that fails you, you may 
as well give up, I would not give much for your 
chance. These tree-climbing, using six-shooters- 
at-short-range, and sticking-a-knife-in-his-ribs- 
stories make interesting reading, but that is all. 
When we reached camp we first let George 
under the impression that we had gotten noth¬ 
ing, and he said, “Boys, I have a big grizzly 
The Author. 
located for you on the big slide about a mile 
above camp. You can go after him in the 
morning.” The next morning on our way up to 
skin our grizzly out, we saw the grizzly George 
had referred to, up on the slide above the river, 
but decided we would not go after him until 
our return. Two miles farther we saw an¬ 
other big grizzly on another slide, but we set 
him also aside for a later hour, as we wanted 
to first skin out and care for the one we had 
already gotten. 
We reached our grizzly about ten o’clock. As 
I looked him over I felt that no matter what 
other luck attended our efforts, this had made 
our trip an assured success. We found a toe 
missing on one foot and so named him “Four 
Toes.” 
Three hours after we had the head and hide 
and were on our way back to camp. We were 
disappointed on coming back to the two slides 
passed in the morning to find that the grizzlies 
had gone to cover and were nowhere to be 
seen. We saw two black-bear on our way in, 
but it was getting late. We had a long way to 
go. There would be other days and other bears. 
We did not go after them. 
The few days following were spent in salting, 
stretching and preparing the hide, and, inci¬ 
dentally, doing a little hunting. 
The third day we prepared to move camp 
farther out. We portaged our canoe across to 
a lake and moved camp up to its shore. We 
intended going down the lake in our canoe and 
therefore turned the horses back down the trail 
to forage for themselves. Expecting to be absent 
two weeks, we took the hobbles off and turned 
them loose, with just a little fear that they might 
take a notion to go all the way back home. If 
they did, we knew it meant a ninety-mile hike 
after them when we came back, but fortunately 
they found good feed not more than two miles 
from the lake and there we found them on 
our return, some ten days later. 
We loaded our entire camp equipment, twelve 
days’ previsions, in our canoe, and started down 
the lake. We had little free-board left. The 
lake is eight miles long and one and a half 
miles wide. There was a strong wind blowing, 
making our trip somewhat dangerous. If my 
“hat was off” to Closson and George for their 
good work before, I went “bare-headed” for the 
m-nner in which they handled our canoe. Work 
less expert would have seen our outfit, and us, 
afloat or in the bottom of the lake. 
When half way down the lake, we had to 
cross to the opposite shore and we were glad 
when this had been accomplished. We watched 
a slide, but saw nothing. When about two 
miles from the lower end of the lake, we were 
ashore to take a look at the big slide opposite. 
We hadn’t all gotten out of the canoe before 
we saw a big grizzly on the big slide and a 
smaller one on a smaller slide nearby. We 
watched them for some 'fifteen minutes. The 
smaller one went into the willows and did not 
again return. The big one still remained in the 
open. By this time, the lake had gotten so 
rough that it was impossible to recross with our 
load. 
With our glasses we selected the best route 
up the mountain side and decided we would go 
after the big fellow. We unloaded the canoe, 
paddled across. For two hours we climbed up, 
up, up! coming out on top of a small ridge 
close by the big slide. The grizzly, which we 
now saw was a silver tip, was feeding on the 
slide about two hundred yards away but partly 
under cover of willows. As we watched, peculiar 
thoughts occured one after another. “There he 
stood. Perhaps he may be the only other 
specimen we may have a chance to get.” “Are 
we going to outwit him on his own ground, 
or are we going to fail?” Again, “Is there a 
possibility he may outwit us and get us?” He 
seems unwittingly to defy us as he moves out 
toward the open. “A slight touch of the hair 
trigger and a few seconds would tell the tale. 
What would it be?” 
He came out on the edge of the slide about 
one hundred and fifty yards away. No less 
than nine shots were fired. He stood for two of 
