he day was closing.

A sample of my notes made on the spot will illustrate the continuity of
the Bear procession, yet I am told that there are far more of these
animals there to-day than at the time of my visit.

Those readers who would follow my adventures in detail will find them
fully and exactly set forth in the story of Johnny Bear, which appears
in "Lives of the Hunted," so I shall not further enlarge on them here,
except to relate one part which was omitted, as it dealt with a
photographic experience.

[Illustration]

In the story I told how, backed by a mounted cowboy, I sat on the
garbage pile while the great Grizzly that had worsted Old Grumpy, came
striding nearer, and looming larger.

[Illustration]

He had not quite forgotten the recent battle, his whole air was
menacing, and I had all the appropriate sensations as he approached. At
forty yards I snapped him, and again at twenty. Still he was coming, but
at fifteen feet he stopped and turned his head, giving me the side view
I wanted, and I snapped the camera again. The effect was startling. That
insolent, nagging little click brought the wrath of the Grizzly onto
myself. He turned on me with a savage growl. I was feeling just as I
should be feeling; wondering, indeed, if my last moment had not come,
but I found guidance in the old adage: "when you don't know a thing to
do, don't do a thing." For a minute or two the Grizzly glared, and I
remained still; then calmly ignoring me he set about his feast.

All of this I tell in detail in my story. But there was one thing I did
not dare to do then; that was show the snaps I made.

Surely it would be a wonderful evidence of my courage and coolness if I
could show a photograph of that big Grizzly when he was coming on--maybe
to kill me--I did not know, but I had a dim vision of my sorrowing
relatives developing the plate to see how it happened, for I pressed
the button at the right time. The picture, such as it is, I give as
Plate XL, c. I was so calm and cool and collected that I quite forgot to
focus the camera.

LONESOME JOHNNY

[Illustration]

During all this time Johnny had been bemoaning his sad lot, at the top
of the tree; there I left him, still lamenting. That was the last I ever
saw of him. In my story of Johnny Bear, I relate many other adventures
that were ascribed to him, but these were told me by the men who lived
in the Park, and knew the lame cub much better than I did. My own
acqua