round wound, the one really made by the cow's
horn. When he came to the Bear tree where Gringo had carved his
initials, the marks were clearly made by the Bear's teeth, and one of
the upper tusks was broken off, so the evidence of identity was
complete.

"It's the same old B'ar," said Lan to his pard.

They failed to get sight of him in all this time, so the partners set
to work at a series of Bear-traps. These are made of heavy logs and
have a sliding door of hewn planks. The bait is on a trigger at the
far end; a tug on this lets the door drop. It was a week's hard work
to make four of these traps. They did not set them at once, for no
Bear will go near a thing so suspiciously new-looking. Some Bears will
not approach one till it is weather-beaten and gray. But they removed
all chips and covered the newly cut wood with mud, then rubbed the
inside with stale meat, and hung a lump of ancient venison on the
trigger of each trap.

They did not go around for three days, knowing that the human smell
must first be dissipated, and then they found but one trap sprung--the
door down. Bonamy became greatly excited, for they had crossed the
Grizzly's track close by. But Kellyan had been studying the dust and
suddenly laughed aloud.

"Look at that,"--he pointed to a thing like a Bear-track, but scarcely
two inches long. "There's the B'ar we'll find in that; that's a
bushy-tailed B'ar," and Bonamy joined in the laugh when he realized
that the victim in the big trap was nothing but a little skunk.

"Next time we'll set the bait higher and not set the trigger so fine."

They rubbed their boots with stale meat when they went the rounds,
then left the traps for a week.

There are Bears that eat little but roots and berries; there are Bears
that love best the great black salmon they can hook out of the pools
when the long "run" is on; and there are Bears that have a special
fondness for flesh. These are rare; they are apt to develop unusual
ferocity and meet an early death. Gringo was one of them, and he grew
like the brawny, meat-fed gladiators of old--bigger, stronger, and
fiercer than his fruit-and root-fed kin. In contrast with this was his
love of honey. The hunter on his trail learned that he never failed to
dig out any bees' nest he could find, or, finding none, he would eat
the little honey-flowers that hung like sleigh-bells on the heather.
Kellyan was quick to mark the signs. "Say, Bonamy, we've got to find
some hone