For two hours I walked onwards across the ridges and valleys. Then among
some scattered spruces, where the snow lay to the depth of half a foot,
I suddenly came on the fresh, broad trail of a grisly. The brute was
evidently roaming restlessly about in search of a winter den, but
willing, in passing, to pick up any food that lay handy. At once I
took the trail, travelling above and to one side, and keeping a sharp
look-out ahead. The bear was going across wind, and this made my task
easy. I walked rapidly, though cautiously; and it was only in crossing
the large patches of bare ground that I had to fear making a noise.
Elsewhere the snow muffled my footsteps, and made the trail so plain
that I scarcely had to waste a glance upon it, bending my eyes always to
the front.

At last, peering cautiously over a ridge crowned with broken rocks, I
saw my quarry, a big, burly bear, with silvered fur. He had halted on an
open hillside, and was busily digging up the caches of some rock gophers
or squirrels. He seemed absorbed in his work, and the stalk was easy.
Slipping quietly back, I ran towards the end of the spur, and in ten
minutes struck a ravine, of which one branch ran past within seventy
yards of where the bear was working. In this ravine was a rather close
growth of stunted evergreens, affording good cover, although in one or
two places I had to lie down and crawl through the snow. When I reached
the point for which I was aiming, the bear had just finished rooting,
and was starting off. A slight whistle brought him to a standstill,
and I drew a bead behind his shoulder, and low down, resting the rifle
across the crooked branch of a dwarf spruce. At the crack he ran off at
speed, making no sound, but the thick spatter of blood splashes, showing
clear on the white snow, betrayed the mortal nature of the wound. For
some minutes I followed the trail; and then, topping a ridge, I saw