overhead, the whirring of larger birds in the cover, and a frequent
rustling in the undergrowth, as of the passage of some stealthy animal,
began equally to attract her attention. It was so different from the
habitual silence of these sedate solitudes. Kate had no vague fear of
wild beasts; she had been long enough a mountaineer to understand the
general immunity enjoyed by the unmolesting wayfarer, and kept her way
undismayed. She was descending an abrupt trail when she was stopped by a
sudden crash in the bushes. It seemed to come from the opposite incline,
directly in a line with her, and apparently on the very trail that she
was pursuing. The crash was then repeated again and again lower down, as
of a descending body. Expecting the apparition of some fallen tree, or
detached boulder bursting through the thicket, in its way to the bottom
of the gulch, she waited. The foliage was suddenly brushed aside, and
a large grizzly bear half rolled, half waddled, into the trail on the
opposite side of the hill. A few moments more would have brought them
face to face at the foot of the gulch; when she stopped there were not
fifty yards between them.

She did not scream; she did not faint; she was not even frightened.
There did not seem to be anything terrifying in this huge, stupid beast,
who, arrested by the rustle of a stone displaced by her descending feet,
rose slowly on his haunches and gazed at her with small, wondering eyes.
Nor did it seem strange to her, seeing that he was in her way, to pick
up a stone, throw it in his direction, and say simply, "Sho! get away!"
as she would have done to an intruding cow. Nor did it seem odd that
he should actually "go away" as he did, scrambling back into the bushes
again, and disappearing like some grotesque figure in a transformation
scene. It was not until after he had gone that she was taken with
a slight nervousness and giddiness, and retraced her steps somewhat
hurriedly, shying a little at every rustle in the thicket. By the time