When the shadows began to lengthen,I shouldered my rifle and plunged into the woods.At first my route lay along a mountain side;then for half a mile over a windfall,the dead timber piled about in crazy confusion.After that I went up the bottom of a valley by a little brook,the ground being carpeted with a sponge of soaked moss.At the head of this brook was a pond covered with water-lilies;and a scramble through a rocky pass took me into a high,wet valley,where the thick growth of spruce was broken by occasional strips of meadow.
In this valley the moose carcass lay,well at the upper end.
In moccasined feet I trod softly through the soundless woods.Under the dark branches it was already dusk,and the air had the cool chill of evening.As I neared the clump where the body lay,I walked with redoubled caution,watching and listening with strained alertness.
Then I heard a twig snap;and my blood leaped,for I knew the bear was at his supper.In another moment I saw his shaggy,brown form.He was working with all his awkward giant strength,trying to bury the carcass,twisting it to one side and the other with wonderful ease.
Once he got angry and suddenly gave it a tremendous cuff with his paw;in his bearing he had something half humorous,half devilish.I crept up within forty yards;but for several minutes he would not keep his head still.Then something attracted his attention in the forest,and he stood motionless looking towards it,broadside to me,with his fore-paws planted on the carcass.This gave me my chance.I drew a very fine bead between his eye and ear;and pulled trigger.He dropped like a steer when struck with a pole-axe.
If there is a good hiding-place handy it is better to lie in wait at the carcass.One day on the head-waters of the Madison,I found that a bear was coming to an elk I had shot some days before;and I at once determined to ambush the beast when he came back that evening.The carcass lay in the middle of a valley a quarter of a mile broad.The bottom of this valley was covered by an open forest of tall pines;a thick jungle of smaller evergreens marked where the mountains rose on either hand.There were a number of large rocks scattered here and there,one,of very convenient shape,being only some seventy or eighty yards from the carcass.Up this I clambered.It hid me perfectly,and on its top was a carpet of soft pine needles,on which I could lie at my ease.
Hour after hour passed by.A little black woodpecker with a yellow crest ran nimbly up and down the tree-trunks for some time and then flitted away with a party of chickadees and nut-hatches.Occasionally a Clarke's crow soared about overhead or clung in any position to the swaying end of a pine branch,chattering and screaming.Flocks of cross-bills,with wavy flight and plaintive calls,flew to a small mineral lick near by,where they scraped the clay with their queer little beaks.
As the westering sun sank out of sight beyond the mountains these sounds of bird-life gradually died away.Under the great pines the evening was still with the silence of primeval desolation.The sense of sadness and loneliness,the melancholy of the wilderness,came over me like a spell.Every slight noise made my pulses throb as I lay motionless on the rock gazing intently into the gathering gloom.Ibegan to fear that it would grow too dark to shoot before the grisly came.
Suddenly and without warning,the great bear stepped out of the bushes and trod across the pine needles with such swift and silent footsteps that its bulk seemed unreal.It was very cautious,continually halting to peer around;and once it stood up on its hind legs and looked long down the valley towards the red west.As it reached the carcass I put a bullet between its shoulders.It rolled over,while the woods resounded with its savage roaring.Immediately it struggled to its feet and staggered off;and fell again to the next shot,squalling and yelling.Twice this was repeated;the brute being one of those bears which greet every wound with a great outcry,and sometimes seem to lose their feet when hit--although they will occasionally fight as savagely as their more silent brethren.In this case the wounds were mortal,and the bear died before reaching the edge of the thicket.
I spent much of the fall of 1889hunting on the head-waters of the Salmon and Snake in Idaho,and along the Montana boundary line from the Big Hole Basin and the head of the Wisdom River to the neighborhood of Red Rock Pass and to the north and west of Henry's Lake.During the last fortnight my companion was the old mountain man,already mentioned,named Griffeth or Griffin--I cannot tell which,as he was always called either "Hank"or "Griff."He was a crabbedly honest old fellow,and a very skilful hunter;but he was worn out with age and rheumatism,and his temper had failed even faster than his bodily strength.He showed me a greater variety of game than I had ever seen before in so short a time;nor did I ever before or after make so successful a hunt.But he was an exceedingly disagreeable companion on account of his surly,moody ways.I generally had to get up first,to kindle the fire and make ready breakfast,and he was very quarrelsome.Finally,during my absence from camp one day,while not very far from Red Rock pass,he found my whisky-flask,which I kept purely for emergencies,and drank all the contents.When I came back he was quite drunk.This was unbearable,and after some high words Ileft him,and struck off homeward through the woods on my own account.
