The weather turned warmer, and the
snow began to melt.
At the end of the first week we saw five grizzlies way off in the
distance at the head of Hayden Valley. They were three or four miles
from us and evening was approaching, so we postponed an attack on them.
Next morning, bright and early, we were on the ground again, hoping to
see them. Sure enough, there they were! Ned, Art and I were together;
my brother and the Judge were off scouting on the other side of the
ridge. It was about half past eight in the morning. The bears, four in
number this time, were feeding in the grassy marshland, about three
miles up the valley. Ned's motto has always been: "When you see 'em, go
and get 'em."
We decided to attack immediately. Down the river bank, through the
draws, up into the timber we circled at a trot. It was hard going, but
we were pressed for time. At last we came out on a wooded point a
quarter of a mile above the bears, and rested. We knew they were about
to finish their morning feeding and go up into the forest to lay up for
the day. So we watched them in seclusion.
We waxed our bowstrings and put the finishing touches on our
arrow-heads with a file.
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