into grizzly bears when they died, and they would not
hurt their brothers, they said.

When Father Serra's Mission people were starving at Monterey, the
Padre learned that at a place called Bear Valley near by, there were
many grizzlies which the Indians would not kill. He sent Spanish
soldiers there, and they shot so many bears that the hungry Mission
family had meat enough to last till a ship came from Mexico with
supplies.

Of all flesh-eating animals this grizzly bear is the largest and
strongest. He can knock down a bull with his great paws, or kill and
carry off a horse. He can live on wild berries and acorns with grass
and roots he digs out of the ground, yet fresh meat suits him best,
and he prefers a calf, which he holds as a cat does a mouse.

Nothing but stock was raised in California in those days so long
ago, and cattle were counted by the thousands and sheep by tens of
thousands. Then the grizzly and cinnamon, or brown, bear feasted all
the time on stray calves and yearlings. Every spring and fall the
cattle, which had roamed almost wild in the pastures, were "rounded
up" by the cowboys, or vaqueros. After the work of picking out each
ranchero's stock and branding the young cattle was over, the vaqueros
thought it fine fun to lasso a bear,--some old fellow, perhaps,
who had been helping himself to the calves. It is told that one big
cinnamon bear, while quietly feeding on acorns, looked up to find
three or four cow-boys on their ponies in a circle around him. They
spurred the trembling ponies as close to him as they dared, and yelled
at the tops of their voices. The great brute sat up on his haunches
and faced them, growling and snarling. One vaquero sent his rope
flying through the air, and the loop settled over a big, hairy fore
paw. Then the bear dropped on all fours and made a jump at the pony,
which got out of his reach. Another Mexican threw a lasso and caught
the bear's hind foot; and as he sat up again a third noose dropped
over the other fore paw. Then the poor trapped creature, growling,
snarling, and rolling over and over, began a tug of war with the
lariats and the ponies. Once a rope broke, and horse and rider tumbled
in front of the bear. He made a quick, savage jump, but was pulled
back by the other ropes. Then Mr. Bear sat up straight and tugged so
hard that another lariat broke and sent the saddle and rider over the
pony's head. With one sweep of his paw the bear smashed the saddle,
bu