Monarch was pretty well worn out when the wagon road was reached, and
doubtless enjoyed the few days of rest and quiet that were allowed him
while a cage was being built for his further transportation. He made
the remainder of the journey to San Francisco by wagon and railroad,
confined in a box constructed of inch-and-a-half Oregon pine that had
an iron grating at one end. The box was not strong enough to have held
him for five minutes had he attacked it as he attacked the trap and as
he subsequently demolished an iron-lined den, but I put my trust in the
moral influence of the chain around his neck. The Grizzly accepted the
situation resignedly and behaved admirably during the whole trip.

Monarch is the largest bear in captivity and a thoroughbred Californian
Grizzly. No naturalist needs a second glance at him to classify him as
Ursus Horribilis. He stands four feet high at the shoulder, measures
three feet across the chest, 12 inches between the ears and 18 inches
from ear to nose, and his weight is estimated by the best judges at
from 1200 to 1600 pounds. He never has been weighed. In disposition
he is independent and militant. He will fight anything from a crowbar
to a powder magazine, and permit no man to handle him while he can move
a muscle. And yet when he and I were acquainted--I have not seen him
since he was taken to Golden Gate Park--he was not unreasonably
quarrelsome, but preserved an attitude of armed neutrality. He would
accept peace offerings from my hand, taking bits of sugar with care not
to include my fingers, but would tolerate no petting. Within certain
limits he would acknowledge an authority which had been made real to
him by chains and imprisonment, and reluctantly suspend an intended
blow and retreat to a corner when insistently commanded, yet the fires
of rebellion never were extinguished and it would have been foolhardy
to get within effective reach of his paw. To strangers he was