forest and stream 
533 
4 Three Grizzlies in the Snow. 5—“Old Tramp” on the Stretchers—Note the Great Height. 
them and then in place of turning and running 
away as we had expected, took a course across 
the slide towards us, crossing the ridge we were 
on, just below us, so that the shots that were 
fired after he started to run were fired through 
the bushes. He was just touched. We found 
his trail and a few drops of blood. 'We followed 
him along the mountain side through heavy cover 
for over an hour, but had to give it up. He had 
won. Three tired, hungry fellows went down the 
slide, reached the canoe a little before dark, re¬ 
crossed the lake, reloaded our outfit and paddled 
to the end of the lake. We went into camp at 
dark in the edge of the timber close to the 
water’s edge. 
The next morning we went down to the river 
about a mile distant, cut a tree for a foot log 
and hunted down the flats about a mile distant. 
We found fresh tracks of a big grizzly that we 
believed to be those of “Old Tramp,” and were 
thus assured that he was still on his old range. 
For three days following we spent the time in 
watching the two slides on the lake. We climbed 
after two black bears. On the river we tried to 
get sight of ,f 01 d Tramp,” but without success. 
The morning of the fourth day, after seven 
o’clock, we left camp, intending to hunt up the 
river to the big slide about six miles away. The 
traveling was hard—heavy timber, much dead and 
down stuff and thick underbrush; heavy climbing 
as the river was a succession of rapids all the 
way; some snow in spots. We soon came to a 
well-beaten trail made by a bear. We saw here 
and there his sign boards on the trees written as 
high up as we could reach. In places the foot 
marks on the ground were worn eight inches 
deep. We built another foot log to cross to the 
other side of the river. 
When we had just completed it, I said to 
George, “Let me get a picture here.” He had 
the axe in his pack and in shifting the pack, 
dropped the axe in the stream. It was out of 
sight in a second and although we fished for it 
some time—doubtless it had been swept rods 
away—we failed to get it. Fortunately for us, 
we still had the big axe back at camp. Other¬ 
wise we would have been without for the re¬ 
mainder of our trip. While it is not impossible, 
yet it is to say the least, some inconvenient to 
manage an outfit for two weeks with nothing 
larger than a butcher knife. It was the only 
time on the trip that George manifested any 
temper. This time he did “cuss” his luck and I 
didn’t blame him much either. 
By twelve o’clock we had reached a small open 
spot on the opposite side of the valley, about five 
hundred feet above the river, and directly op¬ 
posite the big slide. We had already walked 
continuously almost five hours. I was just about 
all in, when Closson said “We will stop and 
watch here awhile.” I was glad. I threw my¬ 
self down on the ground and said, “Here’s 
where I take a little nap, and the man who 
wakes me before he sees a bear will get shot.” 
I hadn’t yet closed my eyes when Closson said, 
“I see a bear.” I was up in a moment. Isn’t it 
queer—how dog tired a fellow can be and yet 
at the first sign of game that tired feeling is all 
gone out of him and he is up and gone like a 
hound? 
After considerable discussion, we decided to 
go down the river, build a foot log and cross 
over, then go down the river about half mile 
to a snow slide that extended all the way down 
the mountain, and climb up over this snow. It 
proved to be the hardest we had yet made. The 
snow was deep and often we sank up to our 
waists. But such is the chase. Up! Up! Up! 
Always Up! For three long hours and Oh! 
such hours. The remembrance of this climb will 
stay with me forever. 
About three o’clock we had reached the point 
on the mountain side, where we had seen the 
grizzly. We had just come off the snow that 
extended all the way along the side of the 
mountain on a bench about fifty feet wide. 
Closson was walking ahead some fifty yards. 
George was trailing along back of me. Closson 
motioned for me to hurry up. I was floundering 
through this soft snow, up above my knees, 
every few steps sinking up to my waist, and was 
about exhausted. I shook my head in disgust. 
Closson walked around the lower side of a 
bunch of thick willows. I kept above—the more 
direct way. This brought us out into the small 
open space, with me in the lead. Closson about 
6 —Closson Examing “Old Tramp’s” Fore-toes. 
sixty feet in my rear and slightly lower down 
and George was about forty feet back of me 
and a little higher up. I was walking slowly 
across the open space towards the next clump 
of willows. When about fifty feet away from 
them, a grizzly, supposedly the one we had seen, 
came around the edge of the willows. He was 
running fast and headed towards us but on a 
line passing us about forty feet below. I fired 
quickly. Before I got the second cartridge in the 
barrel, Closson yelled, “My God, there’s two of 
them!” and I heard him shoot. I saw the first 
grizzly stumble and fall. I swung my gun 
around toward the second grizzly—which had 
come around the edge of the willows not over 
thirty feet behind the first one, running fast and 
headed in a direct line for Closson. I was just 
about to press the trigger for the second one 
when another grizzly, making the tird one in 
quick succession, came in sight around the edge 
of the willows. He looked as big as an ele¬ 
phant. He came on a jump, following not more 
than thirty feet behind the second one and not 
over fifty feet from where I stood. He was 
headed directly for me. Every time he landed 
on all fours, he rose up on his hind legs and let 
out a “Whoo-of! Whoo-of!” His jaws snapped 
like a trap. I heard Closson shooting at the 
other bears back of me, but did not know what 
was taking place. I felt sure my time had come. 
I wasn’t scared, because it all came too fast. 
There wasn’t time to be scared. I remember 
thinking, “There’s time for one shot and then 
the -.” I didn’t know but that it meant 
the same for Closson, for I did not know that 
grizzly No. I had stayed down and I knew 
grizzly No. 2 was going straight for him. My 
rifle again cracked and about a second after I 
heard George’s gun crack. Old Tramp (as he 
proved to be), the big grizzly, or No. 3, fell in 
a heap about thirty-five feet away and rolled 
twenty-five feet down to the edge of and over 
the cliff, disappearing in the thick willows. I 
ran. George followed close. We slid down over 
the almost perpendicular wall of the cliff to the 
slope below and on down about one hundred 
yards, where we found him—dead in the thick 
(Continued on Page 553.) 
