them pass, or whether he would launch into that terrible, death-dealing
charge that most grizzly hunters, sooner or later, come to know. His
mental processes did not go far enough to disassociate these enemies
with the stabbing foe in his gums. For the same reason he blamed them
for disruption of his sleep. His ears laid back, and he uttered a deep
growl.

There was no more magnificent creature in all of the breadth of the
forest than this, the grizzly of the Selkirks. He was old and savage
and wise; but for all his years, in the highest pinnacle of his
strength. No man need to glance twice at him to know his glory. No
tenderfoot could look at him and again wonder why, in the talk round the
camp fire, the tried woodsmen always spoke of the grizzly with respect.

It was true that in the far corners of the earth there were creatures
that could master him. The elephant could crush the life from his
mighty body with the power of his knees; Kobaoba the rhino, most surly
of all game, could have pierced his heart with his horn; perhaps
even the Cape buffalo--that savage explosive old gentleman of the
African marshes, most famous for his deadly propensity to charge on
sight--could have given him a fair battle. But woe to the lion that
should be obliged to face that terrible strength! Even the tiger,
sinuous and terrible--armed with fangs like cruel knives and dreadful,
raking, rending claws--could not have faced him in a fair fight.

But these were folk of the tropics, and his superiority was unquestioned
among the northern animals. Even the bull moose had no wish to engage
in a stand-up-and-take, close-range, death fight with a grizzly. The
bull caribou left his trail at the sound of his heavy body in the
thicket; the wolf pack, most deadly of fighting organizations, were glad
to avoid him in the snow. His first cousins, the Alaskan bears, were
more mighty than he, but they were less agile and, probably, less
cunning. Such lesser creatures as wished to continue to enjoy the
winter sunlight stepped softly when they journeyed past his lair.

He was a peculiar gray in color,--like brown hair that has silvered in
many winters. His huge head was lowered between his high, rocking
shoulders, his forelegs were simply great, knotty, cast-iron bunches of
fiber and tendons; his long claws--worn down by digging in the rocks
for marmots--were like great, curved fingers. As he stepped, his
forefeet swung out, giving to hi