An old trapper, from whom I occasionally bought fur, was toiling up a mountain pass when he spied a big bear sitting on his haunches on the hill-side above.

The trapper shouted and waved his cap; whereupon, to his amazement, the bear uttered a loud "wough" and charged straight down on him--only to fall a victim to misplaced boldness.
I am even inclined to think that there have been wholly exceptional occasions when a grisly has attacked a man with the deliberate purpose of making a meal of him; when, in other words, it has started on the career of a man-eater.

At least, on any other theory I find it difficult to account for an attack which once came to my knowledge.

I was at Sand point, on Pend'Oreille Lake, and met some French and Meti trappers, then in town with their bales of beaver, otter, and sable.

One of them, who gave his name as Baptiste Lamoche, had his head twisted over to one side, the result of the bite of a bear.