blood spurting from his
nose. Slowly he swayed and fell with a heavy crash.

[Illustration: CROSSING THE COLORADO RIVER AT THE BOTTOM OF THE GRAND
CANYON]

[Illustration: WHERE ROLLS THE COLORADO]

The next bear chase we had was entirely different medicine.

Off in the basin under the White Slides, back of our camp, the hounds
struck a fresh track and in an instant were out of sight. With the
cowboy Vern setting the pace we plunged after them. It was rough
country. Bogs, brooks, swales, rocky little parks, stretches of timber
full of windfalls, groves of aspens so thick we could scarcely squeeze
through--all these obstacles soon allowed the hounds to get far away.
We came out into a large park, right under the mountain slope, and
here we sat our horses listening to the chase. That trail led around
the basin and back near to us, up the thick green slope, where high up
near a ledge we heard the pack jump this bear. It sounded to us as if
he had been roused out of a sleep.

"I'll bet it's one of the big grizzlies we've heard about," said
Teague.

That was something to my taste. I have seen a few grizzlies. Riding
to higher ground I kept close watch on the few open patches up on the
slope. The chase led toward us for a while. Suddenly I saw a big bear
with a frosted coat go lumbering across one of these openings.

"Silvertip! Silvertip!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "I saw him!"

My call thrilled everybody. Vern spurred his horse and took to the
right. Teague advised that we climb the slope. So we made for the
timber. Once there we had to get off and climb on foot. It was steep,
rough, very hard work. I had on chaps and spurs. Soon I was hot,
laboring, and my heart began to hurt. We all had to rest. The baying
of the hounds inspirited us now and then, but presently we lost it.
Teague said they had gone over the ridge and as soon as we got up to
the top we would hear them again. We struck an elk trail with fresh
elk tracks in it. Teague said they were just ahead of us. I never
climbed so hard and fast in my life. We were all tuckered out when we
reached the top of the ridge. Then to our great disappointment we did
not hear the hounds. Mounting we rode along the crest of this wooded
ridge toward the western end, which was considerably higher. Once on
a bare patch of ground we saw where the grizzly had passed. The big,
round tracks, toeing in a little, made a chill go over me. No doubt of
its being a silvertip!