one has "packed a gun" for years, he feels uncomfortable without it;
not because he thinks he has any use for it, but because it has become
a part of his attire and its absence unconsciously frets him and sets
him wondering vaguely if he has lost his suspenders or forgotten to put
on a tie.

That the big Grizzly was not quite so audacious and adventurous as he
was reputed to be was demonstrated by his suspicious avoidance of the
traps while they were new to him, and it became evident that he could
not be inveigled into them even by meat and honey until they should
become familiar objects to him and he should get accustomed to my scent
upon his trails. That I would have caught old Pinto in time there is
no doubt, for eventually he was caught in each of the traps, although
he escaped through the carelessness of the man who baited and set them.

The traps were tight pens, built of large oak logs notched and pinned,
roofed and floored with heavy logs and fitted with falling doors of
four-inch plank. They were stout enough, and when I saw them ten years
later they were sound and fit to hold anything that wears fur, although
old Pinto had clawed all the bark off the logs and left deep furrows in
them.

As a matter of course, all the hunters and mountain men for fifty miles
around knew that I was trying to catch a Grizzly, and some of them
built traps on their own hook, hoping to catch a bear and make a few
dollars. I had encouraged them by promising to pay well for his
trouble anybody who should get a bear in his own trap, or find one in
any of the numerous traps I had built and send me word.

Late in October, I heard that a bear had got into a trap on Gleason