<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1>THE BIOGRAPHY OF A GRIZZLY</h1>
<p class="title">by</p>
<p class="title big">ERNEST THOMPSON SETON</p>
<p style="margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 30%; margin-top: 6em; margin-bottom: 3em">
This book is dedicated to the
memory of days spent in Wind
River Mountains and on the
Graybull, where from hunter,
miner, and personal experience I
gathered many chapters of the
History of Wahb.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i003.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="236" alt="" title="" /></div>
<hr />
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page005.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p class="center">THE GRIZZLY</p>
<p>NEARLY half a century has gone since I lived
among these scenes and made my observations
on the grand Old Bear of the Mountains.</p>
<p>Many new conditions have in that time developed,
have changed the course of history.
But the biggest, saddest change of all is that
the Grizzly Bear, the most magnificent, dignified,
and powerful beast of the wild, heroic
West, is gone.</p>
<p>There may be a few individuals about Yellowstone
Park or other great havens, but the
Grizzly Bear as the wide-wandering monarch
of the hills has gone the way of the Dodo.</p>
<p>It is just possible that in this last and latest
time a newborn strong and growing sentiment
will come to the rescue, will prompt us to seek
out and preserve the last remnant, just as long-belated
appreciation came at final stance to
save for later generations the Great Sequoia
Tree, when man's blind avarice had all but
wiped it out. Good men are now at work with
better thoughts, and reverence for the masterpieces,
the giants of creation's world. It may
be that this newer thought may come in force
and save the grand old Bear while yet it curbs
his power for harm. This is my hope and
prayer; this is the sentiment unwritten, but
expressed, in my Story of the Grizzly.</p>
<p class="right" style="margin-right: 25%"><span class="smcap">Ernest Thompson Seton</span></p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page007.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p class="center" style="margin-top: 3em">LIST OF FULL-PAGE DRAWINGS</p>
<table border="0" cellpadding="2" style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" summary="Illustrations">
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td class="smcap" align="right" style="font-size: small">page</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image01">They all Rushed Under it like a Lot of Little Pigs</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">14</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image02">Like Children Playing "Hands"</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">18</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image03">He Stayed in the Tree till near Morning</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">32</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image04">A Savage Bobcat ... Warned Him to go Back</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">44</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image05">Wahb Yelled and Jerked Back</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">50</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image06">He Struck one Fearful, Crushing Blow</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">74</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image07">Ain't He an Awful Size, Though?</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">90</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image08">Wahb Smashed His Skull</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">102</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image09">Causing the Pool to Overflow</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">113</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image10">He Deliberately Stood up on the Pine Root</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">142</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image11">The Roachback Fled into the Woods</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">150</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><SPAN href="#image12">He Paused a Moment at the Gate</SPAN></td>
<td align="right">165</td>
</tr>
</table>
<h2>PART I<br/> THE CUBHOOD OF WAHB</h2>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page009.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i009.png" width-obs="80" height-obs="66" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i010.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<h3><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</SPAN></span>I</h3>
<p><ANTIMG class="initial" src="images/initial_h.png" alt="" title="" /><span class="smcap">e</span> was born over a
score of years ago,
away up in the wildest
part of the wild
West, on the head of
the Little Piney, above where the
Palette Ranch is now.</p>
<p>His Mother was just an ordinary
Silvertip, living the quiet life that
all Bears prefer, minding her own
business and doing her duty by her
family, asking no favors of any one
excepting to let her alone.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>It was July before she took her
remarkable family down the Little
Piney to the Graybull, and showed
them what strawberries were, and
where to find them.</p>
<p>Notwithstanding their Mother's
deep conviction, the cubs were not
remarkably big or bright; yet they
were a remarkable family, for there
were four of them, and it is not
often a Grizzly Mother can boast
of more than two.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i012.png" width-obs="600" height-obs="198" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>The woolly-coated little creatures
were having a fine time, and
reveled in the lovely mountain summer
and the abundance of good
things. Their Mother turned over
each log and flat stone they came
to, and the moment it was lifted
they all rushed under it like a lot
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</SPAN></span>
of little pigs to lick up the ants and
grubs there hidden.</p>
<div>
<SPAN name="image01" id="image01"></SPAN></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image001.jpg" width-obs="423" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /> <p class="caption center">"THEY ALL RUSHED UNDER IT LIKE A LOT OF LITTLE PIGS."</p> </div>
<p>It never once occurred to them
that Mammy's strength might fail
sometime, and let the great rock
drop just as they got under it; nor
would any one have thought so
that might have chanced to see
that huge arm and that shoulder
sliding about under the great yellow
robe she wore. No, no; that
arm could never fail. The little
ones were quite right. So they
hustled and tumbled one another
at each fresh log in their haste to
be first, and squealed little squeals,
and growled little growls, as if each
was a pig, a pup, and a kitten all
rolled into one.</p>
<p>They were well acquainted with
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</SPAN></span>
the common little brown ants that
harbor under logs in the uplands,
but now they came for the first time
on one of the hills of the great, fat,
luscious Wood-ant, and they all
crowded around to lick up those
that ran out. But they soon found
that they were licking up more cactus-prickles
and sand than ants, till
their Mother said in Grizzly, "Let
me show you how."</p>
<p>She knocked off the top of the
hill, then laid her great paw flat on
it for a few moments, and as the
angry ants swarmed on to it she
licked them up with one lick, and
got a good rich mouthful to crunch
without a grain of sand or a cactus-stinger
in it. The cubs soon learned.
Each put up both his little brown
paws, so that there was a ring of
paws all around the ant-hill, and
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</SPAN></span>
there they sat, like children playing
"hands," and each licked first the
right and then the left paw, or one
cuffed his brother's ears for licking
a paw that was not his own, till the
ant-hill was cleared out and they
were ready for a change.</p>
<div>
<SPAN name="image02" id="image02"></SPAN></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image002.jpg" width-obs="409" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /> <p class="caption center">"LIKE CHILDREN PLAYING 'HANDS.'"</p> </div>
<p>Ants are sour food and made the
Bears thirsty, so the old one led
down to the river. After they had
drunk as much as they wanted, and
dabbled their feet, they walked
down the bank to a pool, where the
old one's keen eye caught sight of
a number of Buffalo-fish basking
on the bottom. The water was very
low, mere pebbly rapids between
these deep holes, so Mammy said
to the little ones:</p>
<p>"Now you all sit there on the
bank and learn something new."</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i019.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="186" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>First she went to the lower end
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</SPAN></span>
of the pool and stirred up a cloud
of mud which hung in the still
water, and sent a long tail floating
like a curtain over the rapids just
below. Then she went quietly
round by land, and sprang into the
upper end of the pool with all the
noise she could. The fish had
crowded to that end, but this sudden
attack sent them off in a panic,
and they dashed blindly into the
mud-cloud. Out of fifty fish there
is always a good chance of some
being fools, and half a dozen of
these dashed through the darkened
water into the current, and before
they knew it they were struggling
over the shingly shallow. The old
Grizzly jerked them out to the
bank, and the little ones rushed
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</SPAN></span>
noisily on these funny, short snakes
that could not get away, and gobbled
and gorged till their little
bellies looked like balloons.</p>
<p>They had eaten so much now,
and the sun was so hot, that all
were quite sleepy. So the Mother-bear
led them to a quiet little nook,
and as soon as she lay down, though
they were puffing with heat, they
all snuggled around her and went
to sleep, with their little brown paws
curled in, and their little black noses
tucked into their wool as though it
were a very cold day.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i021.png" width-obs="600" height-obs="140" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i022.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="360" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>After an hour or two they began
to yawn and stretch themselves,
except little Fuzz, the smallest;
she poked out her sharp nose for a
moment, then snuggled back between
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</SPAN></span>
her Mother's great arms,
for she was a gentle, petted little
thing. The largest, the one afterward
known as Wahb, sprawled
over on his back and began to
worry a root that stuck up, grumbling
to himself as he chewed it,
or slapped it with his paw for not
staying where he wanted it. Presently
Mooney, the mischief, began
tugging at Frizzle's ears, and got
his own well boxed. They clenched
for a tussle; then, locked in a
tight, little grizzly yellow ball, they
sprawled over and over on the grass,
and, before they knew it, down a
bank, and away out of sight toward
the river.</p>
<p>Almost immediately there was
an outcry of yells for help from the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</SPAN></span>
little wrestlers. There could be no
mistaking the real terror in their
voices. Some dreadful danger was
threatening.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i023.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="100" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i024.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="107" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>Up jumped the gentle Mother,
changed into a perfect demon, and
over the bank in time to see a huge
Range-bull make a deadly charge
at what he doubtless took for a yellow
dog. In a moment all would
have been over with Frizzle, for he
had missed his footing on the bank;
but there was a thumping of heavy
feet, a roar that startled even the
great Bull, and, like a huge bounding
ball of yellow fur, Mother Grizzly
was upon him. Him! the monarch
of the herd, the master of all
these plains, what had he to fear?
He bellowed his deep war-cry, and
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</SPAN></span>
charged to pin the old one to the
bank; but as he bent to tear her
with his shining horns, she dealt
him a stunning blow, and before he
could recover she was on his shoulders,
raking the flesh from his ribs
with sweep after sweep of her terrific
claws.</p>
<p>The Bull roared with rage, and
plunged and reared, dragging
Mother Grizzly with him; then, as
he hurled heavily off the slope, she
let go to save herself, and the
Bull rolled down into the river.</p>
<p>This was a lucky thing for him,
for the Grizzly did not want to follow
him there; so he waded out on
the other side, and bellowing with
fury and pain, slunk off to join the
herd to which he belonged.</p>
<hr />
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i025.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="167" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page025.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<h3><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</SPAN></span>II</h3>
<p><ANTIMG class="initial" src="images/initial_o.png" alt="" title="" /><span class="smcap">ld</span> Colonel Pickett,
the cattle king, was
out riding the range.
The night before, he
had seen the new
moon descending over the white
cone of Pickett's Peak.</p>
<p>"I saw the last moon over Frank's
Peak," said he, "and the luck was
against me for a month; now I
reckon it's my turn."</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i026.png" width-obs="58" height-obs="100" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>Next morning his luck began.
A letter came from Washington
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</SPAN></span>
granting his request that a post-office
be established at his ranch,
and contained the polite inquiry,
"What name do you suggest for
the new post-office?"</p>
<p>The Colonel took down his new
rifle, a 45–90 repeater. "May as
well," he said; "this is my month";
and he rode up the Graybull to see
how the cattle were doing.</p>
<p>As he passed under the Rimrock
Mountain he heard a far-away roaring
as of Bulls fighting, but thought
nothing of it till he rounded the
point and saw on the flat below a
lot of his cattle pawing the dust and
bellowing as they always do when
they smell the blood of one of their
number. He soon saw that the
great Bull, "the boss of the bunch,"
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</SPAN></span>
was covered with blood. His back
and sides were torn as by a Mountain-lion,
and his head was battered
as by another Bull.</p>
<p>"Grizzly," growled the Colonel,
for he knew the mountains. He
quickly noted the general direction
of the Bull's back trail, then rode
toward a high bank that offered a
view. This was across the gravelly
ford of the Graybull, near the
mouth of the Piney. His horse
splashed through the cold water
and began jerkily to climb the other
bank.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i028.png" width-obs="150" height-obs="300" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>As soon as the rider's head rose
above the bank his hand grabbed
the rifle, for there in full sight were
five Grizzly Bears, an old one and
four cubs.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</SPAN></span>
"Run for the woods," growled
the Mother Grizzly, for she knew
that men carried guns. Not that
she feared for herself; but the idea
of such things among her darlings
was too horrible to think of. She
set off to guide them to the timber-tangle
on the Lower Piney. But
an awful, murderous fusillade began.</p>
<p><i>Bang!</i> and Mother Grizzly felt
a deadly pang.</p>
<p><i>Bang!</i> and poor little Fuzz rolled
over with a scream of pain and lay
still.</p>
<p>With a roar of hate and fury
Mother Grizzly turned to attack
the enemy.</p>
<p><i>Bang!</i> and she fell paralyzed
and dying with a high shoulder
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</SPAN></span>
shot. And the three little cubs, not
knowing what to do, ran back to
their Mother.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i029.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="252" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p><i>Bang! bang!</i> and Mooney and
Frizzle sank in dying agonies beside
her, and Wahb, terrified and
stupefied, ran in a circle about
them. Then, hardly knowing why,
he turned and dashed into the timber-tangle,
and disappeared as a
last <i>bang</i> left him with a stinging
pain and a useless, broken hind
paw.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i030_1.png" width-obs="180" height-obs="78" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i030_2.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="306" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p><span class="smcap">That</span> is why the post-office was
called Four-Bears. The Colonel
seemed pleased with what he had
done; indeed, he told of it himself.</p>
<p>But away up in the woods of
Anderson's Peak that night a little
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</SPAN></span>
lame Grizzly might have been seen
wandering, limping along, leaving
a bloody spot each time he tried
to set down his hind paw; whining
and whimpering, "Mother!
Mother! Oh, Mother, where are
you?" for he was cold and hungry,
and had such a pain in his foot.
But there was no Mother to come
to him, and he dared not go back
where he had left her, so he wandered
aimlessly about among the
pines.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i033.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="221" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>Then he smelled some strange
animal smell and heard heavy footsteps;
and not knowing what else
to do, he climbed a tree. Presently
a band of great, long-necked, slim-legged
animals, taller than his
Mother, came by under the tree. He
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</SPAN></span>
had seen such once before and had
not been afraid of them then, because
he had been with his Mother.
But now he kept very quiet in the
tree, and the big creatures stopped
picking the grass when they were
near him, and blowing their noses,
ran out of sight.</p>
<p>He stayed in the tree till near
morning, and then he was so stiff
with cold that he could scarcely
get down. But the warm sun came
up, and he felt better as he sought
about for berries and ants, for he
was very hungry. Then he went
back to the Piney and put his
wounded foot in the ice-cold water.</p>
<div>
<SPAN name="image03" id="image03"></SPAN></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image003.jpg" width-obs="396" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /> <p class="caption center">"HE STAYED IN THE TREE TILL NEAR MORNING."</p> </div>
<p>He wanted to get back to the
mountains again, but still he felt he
must go to where he had left his
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</SPAN></span>
Mother and brothers. When the
afternoon grew warm, he went
limping down the stream through
the timber, and down on the banks
of the Graybull till he came to the
place where yesterday they had
had the fish-feast; and he eagerly
crunched the heads and remains
that he found. But there was an
odd and horrid smell on the wind.
It frightened him, and as he went
down to where he last had seen his
Mother the smell grew worse. He
peeped out cautiously at the place,
and saw there a lot of Coyotes, tearing
at something. What it was he
did not know; but he saw no
Mother, and the smell that sickened
and terrified him was worse than
ever, so he quietly turned back
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</SPAN></span>
toward the timber-tangle of the
Lower Piney, and nevermore came
back to look for his lost family.
He wanted his Mother as much
as ever, but something told him it
was no use.</p>
<p>As cold night came down, he
missed her more and more again,
and he whimpered as he limped
along, a miserable, lonely, little,
motherless Bear—not lost in the
mountains, for he had no home to
seek, but so sick and lonely, and
with such a pain in his foot and in
his stomach a craving for the drink
that would nevermore be his. That
night he found a hollow log, and
crawling in, he tried to dream that
his Mother's great, furry arms were
around him, and he snuffled himself
to sleep.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i035.png" width-obs="300" height-obs="145" alt="" title="" /></div>
<hr />
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page036.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<h3><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</SPAN></span>III</h3>
<p><ANTIMG class="initial" src="images/initial_w.png" alt="" title="" /><span class="smcap">ahb</span> had always
been a gloomy little
Bear; and the string
of misfortunes that
came on him just as
his mind was forming made him
more than ever sullen and morose.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i037.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="100" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>It seemed as though every one
were against him. He tried to keep
out of sight in the upper woods of
the Piney, seeking his food by day
and resting at night in the hollow
log. But one evening he found it
occupied by a Porcupine as big as
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</SPAN></span>
himself and as bad as a cactus-bush.
Wahb could do nothing with him.
He had to give up the log and seek
another nest.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i038.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="192" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>One day he went down on the
Graybull flat to dig some roots that
his Mother had taught him were
good. But before he had well begun,
a grayish-looking animal came
out of a hole in the ground and
rushed at him, hissing and growling.
Wahb did not know it was a
Badger, but he saw it was a fierce
animal as big as himself. He was
sick, and lame too, so he limped
away and never stopped till he was
on a ridge in the next cañon. Here
a Coyote saw him, and came bounding
after him, calling at the same
time to another to come and join
the fun. Wahb was near a tree, so
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</SPAN></span>
he scrambled up to the branches.
The Coyotes came bounding and
yelping below, but their noses told
them that this was a young Grizzly
they had chased, and they soon decided
that a young Grizzly in a tree
means a Mother Grizzly not far
away, and they had better let him
alone.</p>
<p>After they had sneaked off Wahb
came down and returned to the
Piney. There was better feeding
on the Graybull, but every one
seemed against him there now that
his loving guardian was gone, while
on the Piney he had peace at least
sometimes, and there were plenty
of trees that he could climb when
an enemy came.</p>
<p>His broken foot was a long time
in healing; indeed, it never got quite
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</SPAN></span>
well. The wound healed and the
soreness wore off, but it left a stiffness
that gave him a slight limp,
and the sole-balls grew together
quite unlike those of the other foot.
It particularly annoyed him when
he had to climb a tree or run fast
from his enemies; and of them he
found no end, though never once
did a friend cross his path. When
he lost his Mother he lost his best
and only friend. She would have
taught him much that he had to
learn by bitter experience, and
would have saved him from most
of the ills that befell him in his
cubhood—ills so many and so dire
that but for his native sturdiness
he never could have passed through
alive.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i040.png" width-obs="450" height-obs="60" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>The piñons bore plentifully that
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</SPAN></span>
year, and the winds began to shower
down the ripe, rich nuts. Life
was becoming a little easier for
Wahb. He was gaining in health
and strength, and the creatures he
daily met now let him alone. But
as he feasted on the piñons one
morning after a gale, a great Blackbear
came marching down the hill.
"No one meets a friend in the
woods," was a byword that Wahb
had learned already. He swung up
the nearest tree. At first the Blackbear
was scared, for he smelled the
smell of Grizzly; but when he saw
it was only a cub, he took courage
and came growling at Wahb. He
could climb as well as the little
Grizzly, or better, and high as
Wahb went, the Blackbear followed,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</SPAN></span>
and when Wahb got out on
the smallest and highest twig that
would carry him, the Blackbear
cruelly shook him off, so that he
was thrown to the ground, bruised
and shaken and half-stunned. He
limped away moaning, and the only
thing that kept the Blackbear from
following him up and perhaps killing
him was the fear that the old
Grizzly might be about. So Wahb
was driven away down the creek
from all the good piñon woods.</p>
<p>There was not much food on the
Graybull now. The berries were
nearly all gone; there were no fish
or ants to get, and Wahb, hurt,
lonely, and miserable, wandered
on and on, till he was away down
toward the Meteetsee.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</SPAN></span>
A Coyote came bounding and
barking through the sage-brush
after him. Wahb tried to run, but
it was no use; the Coyote was soon
up with him. Then with a sudden
rush of desperate courage Wahb
turned and charged his foe. The
astonished Coyote gave a scared
yowl or two, and fled with his tail
between his legs. Thus Wahb
learned that war is the price of
peace.</p>
<p>But the forage was poor here;
there were too many cattle; and
Wahb was making for a far-away
piñon woods in the Meteetsee
Cañon when he saw a man, just
like the one he had seen on that
day of sorrow. At the same moment
he heard a <i>bang</i>, and some
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</SPAN></span>
sage-brush rattled and fell just
over his back. All the dreadful
smells and dangers of that day
came back to his memory, and
Wahb ran as he never had run before.</p>
<p>He soon got into a gully and followed
it into the cañon. An opening
between two cliffs seemed to
offer shelter, but as he ran toward
it a Range-cow came trotting between,
shaking her head at him and
snorting threats against his life.</p>
<p>He leaped aside upon a long log
that led up a bank, but at once a
savage Bobcat appeared on the
other end and warned him to go
back. It was no time to quarrel.
Bitterly Wahb felt that the world
was full of enemies. But he turned
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</SPAN></span>
and scrambled up a rocky bank
into the piñon woods that border
the benches of the Meteetsee.</p>
<div>
<SPAN name="image04" id="image04"></SPAN></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image004.jpg" width-obs="404" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /> <p class="caption center">"A SAVAGE BOBCAT ... WARNED HIM TO GO BACK."</p> </div>
<p>The Pine Squirrels seemed to
resent his coming, and barked furiously.
They were thinking about
their piñon-nuts. They knew that
this Bear was coming to steal their
provisions, and they followed him
overhead to scold and abuse him,
with such an outcry that an enemy
might have followed him by their
noise, which was exactly what they
intended.</p>
<p>There was no one following, but
it made Wahb uneasy and nervous.
So he kept on till he reached the
timber line, where both food and
foes were scarce, and here on the
edge of the Mountain-sheep land
at last he got a chance to rest.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i046.png" width-obs="240" height-obs="200" alt="" title="" /></div>
<hr />
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page047.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<h3><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</SPAN></span>IV</h3>
<p><ANTIMG class="initial" src="images/initial_w.png" alt="" title="" /><span class="smcap">ahb</span> never was
sweet-tempered like
his baby sister, and
the persecutions by
his numerous foes
were making him more and more
sour. Why could not they let him
alone in his misery? Why was
every one against him? If only
he had his Mother back! If he
could only have killed that Blackbear
that had driven him from his
woods! It did not occur to him
that some day he himself would be
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</SPAN></span>
big. And that spiteful Bobcat, that
took advantage of him; and the
man that had tried to kill him. He
did not forget any of them, and
he hated them all.</p>
<p>Wahb found his new range fairly
good, because it was a good nut
year. He learned just what the
Squirrels feared he would, for his
nose directed him to the little granaries
where they had stored up
great quantities of nuts for winter's
use. It was hard on the Squirrels,
but it was good luck for Wahb, for
the nuts were delicious food. And
when the days shortened and the
nights began to be frosty, he had
grown fat and well-favored.</p>
<p>He traveled over all parts of the
cañon now, living mostly in the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</SPAN></span>
higher woods, but coming down at
times to forage almost as far as the
river. One night as he wandered
by the deep water a peculiar smell
reached his nose. It was quite
pleasant, so he followed it up to the
water's edge. It seemed to come
from a sunken log. As he reached
over toward this, there was a sudden
<i>clank</i>, and one of his paws was
caught in a strong, steel Beaver-trap.</p>
<div>
<SPAN name="image05" id="image05"></SPAN></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image005.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="435" alt="" title="" /> <p class="caption center">"WAHB YELLED AND JERKED BACK."</p> </div>
<p>Wahb yelled and jerked back
with all his strength, and tore up
the stake that held the trap. He
tried to shake it off, then ran away
through the bushes trailing it. He
tore at it with his teeth; but there
it hung, quiet, cold, strong, and immovable.
Every little while he
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</SPAN></span>
tore at it with his teeth and claws,
or beat it against the ground. He
buried it in the earth, then climbed
a low tree, hoping to leave it behind;
but still it clung, biting into
his flesh. He made for his own
woods, and sat down to try to
puzzle it out. He did not know
what it was, but his little green-brown
eyes glared with a mixture
of pain, fright, and fury as he tried
to understand his new enemy.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i052.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="140" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i053.png" width-obs="160" height-obs="133" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>He lay down under the bushes,
and, intent on deliberately crushing
the thing, he held it down with one
paw while he tightened his teeth
on the other end, and bearing down
as it slid away, the trap jaws opened
and the foot was free. It was mere
chance, of course, that led him to
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</SPAN></span>
squeeze both springs at once. He
did not understand it, but he did
not forget it, and he got these not
very clear ideas: "There is a dreadful
little enemy that hides by the
water and waits for one. It has an
odd smell. It bites one's paws and
is too hard for one to bite. But it
can be got off by hard squeezing."</p>
<p>For a week or more the little
Grizzly had another sore paw, but
it was not very bad if he did not do
any climbing.</p>
<p>It was now the season when the
Elk were bugling on the mountains.
Wahb heard them all night, and
once or twice had to climb to get
away from one of the big-antlered
Bulls. It was also the season when
the trappers were coming into the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</SPAN></span>
mountains, and the Wild Geese
were honking overhead. There
were several quite new smells in
the woods, too. Wahb followed
one of these up, and it led to a
place where were some small logs
piled together; then, mixed with
the smell that had drawn him, was
one that he hated—he remembered
it from the time when he had
lost his Mother. He sniffed about
carefully, for it was not very strong,
and learned that this hateful smell
was on a log in front, and the
sweet smell that made his mouth
water was under some brush behind.
So he went around, pulled
away the brush till he got the prize,
a piece of meat, and as he grabbed
it, the log in front went down with
a heavy <i>chock</i>.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</SPAN></span>
It made Wahb jump; but he got
away all right with the meat and
some new ideas, and with one old
idea made stronger, and that was,
"When that hateful smell is around
it always means trouble."</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i055.png" width-obs="300" height-obs="86" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>As the weather grew colder,
Wahb became very sleepy; he
slept all day when it was frosty. He
had not any fixed place to sleep in;
he knew a number of dry ledges
for sunny weather, and one or two
sheltered nooks for stormy days.
He had a very comfortable nest under
a root, and one day, as it began
to blow and snow, he crawled into
this and curled up to sleep. The
storm howled without. The snow
fell deeper and deeper. It draped
the pine-trees till they bowed, then
shook themselves clear to be draped
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</SPAN></span>
anew. It drifted over the mountains
and poured down the funnel-like
ravines, blowing off the peaks
and ridges, and filling up the hollows
level with their rims. It piled
up over Wahb's den, shutting out
the cold of the winter, shutting out
itself: and Wahb slept and slept.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i056.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="160" alt="" title="" /></div>
<hr />
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page057.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<h3><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</SPAN></span>V</h3>
<p><ANTIMG class="initial" src="images/initial_h.png" alt="" title="" /><span class="smcap">e</span> slept all winter without
waking, for such
is the way of Bears,
and yet when spring
came and aroused
him, he knew that he had been
asleep a long time. He was not
much changed—he had grown in
height, and yet was but little thinner.
He was now very hungry, and
forcing his way through the deep
drift that still lay over his den, he
set out to look for food.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</SPAN></span>
There were no piñon-nuts to get,
and no berries or ants; but Wahb's
nose led him away up the cañon to
the body of a winter-killed Elk,
where he had a fine feast, and then
buried the rest for future use.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i058.png" width-obs="85" height-obs="400" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>Day after day he came back till
he had finished it. Food was very
scarce for a couple of months, and
after the Elk was eaten, Wahb lost
all the fat he had when he awoke.
One day he climbed over the Divide
into the Warhouse Valley. It
was warm and sunny there, vegetation
was well advanced, and he
found good forage. He wandered
down toward the thick timber, and
soon smelled the smell of another
Grizzly. This grew stronger and
led him to a single tree by a Bear-trail.
Wahb reared up on his hind
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</SPAN></span>
feet to smell this tree. It was strong
of Bear, and was plastered with
mud and Grizzly hair far higher
than he could reach; and Wahb
knew that it must have been a very
large Bear that had rubbed himself
there. He felt uneasy. He
used to long to meet one of his own
kind, yet now that there was a
chance of it he was filled with
dread.</p>
<p>No one had shown him anything
but hatred in his lonely, unprotected
life, and he could not tell what this
older Bear might do. As he stood
in doubt, he caught sight of the old
Grizzly himself slouching along a
hillside, stopping from time to time
to dig up the quamash-roots and
wild turnips.</p>
<p>He was a monster. Wahb instinctively
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</SPAN></span>
distrusted him, and sneaked
away through the woods and up a
rocky bluff where he could watch.</p>
<p>Then the big fellow came on
Wahb's track and rumbled a deep
growl of anger; he followed the
trail to the tree, and rearing up, he
tore the bark with his claws, far
above where Wahb had reached.
Then he strode rapidly along
Wahb's trail. But the cub had seen
enough. He fled back over the Divide
into the Meteetsee Cañon, and
realized in his dim, bearish way
that he was at peace there because
the Bear-forage was so poor.</p>
<p>As the summer came on, his
coat was shed. His skin got very
itchy, and he found pleasure in
rolling in the mud and scraping his
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</SPAN></span>
back against some convenient tree.
He never climbed now: his claws
were too long, and his arms, though
growing big and strong, were losing
that suppleness of wrist that makes
cub Grizzlies and all Blackbears
great climbers. He now dropped
naturally into the Bear habit of
seeing how high he could reach
with his nose on the rubbing-post,
whenever he was near one.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i061.png" width-obs="115" height-obs="100" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i063.png" width-obs="85" height-obs="300" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>He may not have noticed it, yet
each time he came to a post, after
a week or two away, he could reach
higher, for Wahb was growing fast
and coming into his strength.</p>
<p>Sometimes he was at one end of
the country that he felt was his,
and sometimes at another, but he
had frequent use for the rubbing-tree,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</SPAN></span>
and thus it was that his range
was mapped out by posts with his
own mark on them.</p>
<p>One day late in summer he
sighted a stranger on his land, a
glossy Blackbear, and he felt furious
against the interloper. As the
Blackbear came nearer Wahb noticed
the tan-red face, the white
spot on his breast, and then the bit
out of his ear, and last of all the
wind brought a whiff. There could
be no further doubt it was the very
smell: this was the black coward
that had chased him down the
Piney long ago. But how he had
shrunken! Before, he had looked
like a giant; now Wahb felt he
could crush him with one paw. Revenge
is sweet, Wahb felt, though
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</SPAN></span>
he did not exactly say it, and he
went for that red-nosed Bear. But
the Black one went up a small tree
like a Squirrel. Wahb tried to follow
as the other once followed
him, but somehow he could not.
He did not seem to know how to
take hold now, and after a while he
gave it up and went away, although
the Blackbear brought him back
more than once by coughing in derision.
Later on that day, when
the Grizzly passed again, the red-nosed
one had gone.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i064.png" width-obs="75" height-obs="300" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i065.png" width-obs="75" height-obs="300" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>As the summer waned, the upper
forage-grounds began to give
out, and Wahb ventured down to
the Lower Meteetsee one night to
explore. There was a pleasant
odor on the breeze, and following
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</SPAN></span>
it up, Wahb came to the carcass
of a Steer. A good distance away
from it were some tiny Coyotes,
mere dwarfs compared with those
he remembered. Right by the carcass
was another that jumped
about in the moonlight in a foolish
way. For some strange reason
it seemed unable to get away.
Wahb's old hatred broke out. He
rushed up. In a flash the Coyote
bit him several times before, with
one blow of that great paw, Wahb
smashed him into a limp, furry rag;
then broke in all his ribs with a
crunch or two of his jaws. Oh,
but it was good to feel the hot,
bloody juices oozing between his
teeth!</p>
<p>The Coyote was caught in a
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</SPAN></span>
trap. Wahb hated the smell of the
iron, so he went to the other side
of the carcass, where it was not so
strong, and had eaten but little before
<i>clank</i>, and his foot was caught
in a Wolf-trap that he had not seen.</p>
<p>But he remembered that he had
once before been caught and had
escaped by squeezing the trap.
He set a hind foot on each spring
and pressed till the trap opened
and released his paw. About the
carcass was the smell that he knew
stood for man, so he left it and wandered
down-stream; but more and
more often he got whiffs of that horrible
odor, so he turned and went
back to his quiet piñon benches.</p>
<hr />
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