ught that the poor beast had no chance of escape. Lower
and nearer came the sound of the something still to me invisible, but
the sound, slight though it was, gave, somehow, the impression of bulk,
and the strange, subdued, half-grunting snuffle was puzzling to senses
on the alert for deer. Lower and nearer, and then--out into the open by
the shallow water he strolled--no deer, but a great grizzly.

My first instinct was to fire and "chance it," but then in stepped
discretion (funk, if you will), and I remembered that at fifteen or
twenty yards buckshot would serve no end but to wound and rouse to fury
such an animal as a grizzly, who, perhaps of all wild beasts, is the
most tenacious of life; and I remembered, too, tales told by
Californians of death, or ghastly wounds, inflicted by grizzlies.

My finger left the trigger, and I sat down--discreetly, and with no
unnecessary noise. He was not in a hurry, but rooted about sedately
amongst the undergrowth, now and again throwing up his muzzle and
sniffing the air in a way that made me not unthankful that the faint
breeze blew from him to me, and not in the contrary direction.

In due time--an age it seemed--after a false start or two, he went off
up stream, and I, wisely concluding that this particular spot was, for
the present, an unlikely one for deer, followed his example, and
rejoined Halley, who was patiently waiting where we had parted.

"I've just seen a grizzly, Halley," I said.

"_Have_ you?" he almost yelled in his excitement. "Come on! We'll get
him."

"I don't think I want any more of him," said I, with becoming modesty.
"_I'm_ going to see if I can't stalk a deer amongst the hills. They're
more in my line, I think."

Halley looked at me--pity, a rather galling pity, in his eye--and,
turning, went off alone after the bear, muttering to himself, whilst I
kept on my course downstream, over the boulders, certain in my own mind
that no more would be seen of that bear, and keeping a sharp look-out on
the surrounding country in case any deer should show themselves.

I had gone barely half a mile when, on the spur of a hill, a long way
off, I spotted a couple of deer browsing on the short grass, and I was
on the point of starting what would have been a long and difficult, but
very pretty, stalk when I heard a noise behind me.

Looking back, I saw Halley flying from boulder to boulder, travelling
as if to "make time" were the one and only object of his life--r