On our way to camp in the dim light of early dawn, a land fog hung low
in the valley. As we came up a rough path there suddenly appeared out
of the obscurity three little bear cubs, not thirty-five yards away.
They winded us, squeaked and stood on their hind legs, peering in our
direction. We dropped like stones in our tracks, scarcely breathing,
figuratively frozen to the ground, for instantly the fiercest-looking
grizzly we ever saw bounded over the cubs and straddled them between
her forelegs. Nothing could stop her if she came on. A little brush
intervened and she could not locate us plainly for we could see her
eyes wander in search of us; but her trembling muscles, the vicious
champing of her jaws, and the guttural growls, all spoke of immediate
attack. We were petrified. She wavered in her intent, turned, cuffed
her cubs down the hill, snorted and finally departed with her family.
We heaved a deep sigh of relief. But she was wonderful, she was the
most beautiful bear we had ever seen; large, well proportioned, with
dark brown hair having just a touch of silver. She was a patrician, the
aristocrat of the species.
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