ickly Mother Grizzly quit digging roots and turning over rocks, and
sought shelter. The long slope was smooth and bare, but down near the
foot was a fallen pine with upturned roots, and into the hollow where
the roots had been, under the lee of the matted mass of fibre and dirt,
Mother Grizzly led her babies and there made her bed for the night. It
was a longer night than the old bear expected. It lasted until the
next day's westering sun made a pale, bluish glimmer through the upper
part of the drift that covered the fallen tree and filled up the
hollow. The warmth of their bodies had kept an open space around the
bears, and the upturned roots of the pine had prevented the snow from
piling high directly over them, while causing it to drift and form an
enclosing barrier in front of the shallow pit made by the uprooting of
the tree. Mother Grizzly arose and struggled toward the dim glimmer of
light, but she could not break her way out. The snow was light and dry
and would not pack, and her buffetings only brought a feathery smother
down upon her and the cubs. All she accomplished was to let down the
frail roofing of the den and get a glimpse of the sky. She tried to
climb up the drift, but sank out of sight and had to back out of the
smother. Digging was futile, for the snow offered scarcely more
resistance than foam.

So Mother Grizzly gave up her attempt to escape and busied herself with
making the hollow as comfortable as possible for a long stay. She
scraped down to the dirt and packed the snow about the sides of the
lair, stowed the cubs against the back of the den and curled herself in
front of them and waited for better times to come.

It is a proverb of the Spaniards that "who sleeps, dines," and bears
attest its truth, for it is their experience through the long, cold
weeks of winter, when the snow is deep and no food is to be got at.
Doubtless the old she bear was content to go to sleep again and forget
her hunger, but it may be supposed that the cubs had not learned the
philosophy of necessity, and kept her awake with fretful demands which
she could not satisfy. Had the family remained holed up in the winter
den and not been tempted out by mild weather to break the long fast,
probably the desire for food would have remained dormant, but the taste
of food awakened appetite, and exercise sharpened it and created
insistent necessity for its satisfaction. The normal period of
hibernation having passed