124 THE GRIBBLE ISLAND BEAR

back to the bear, but it was hopeless trying to keep them
within sight as the undergrowth was far too thick, and
they gave no tongue which would have been of assistance.
Tracking was out of the question also as there was not
a vestige of blood, the wound being in the intestines. For
the remainder of that day the search was continued
without success, and the next day my partner joined me
in an effort to find the yearling. But we were doomed
to disappointment. No sooner were the hounds unleashed
than they jumped a bunch of mule-deer, so we sat down
and listened to their cry growing fainter and fainter as
they sailed merrily away off over the top of the opposite
hill, They did not return until the following day. And
so my only chance of a white bear faded away and was
gone.

You may be interested to hear that the reason the
cartridges were not in the magazine of my rifle was
because, as it transpired, my partner during my absence
from camp the previous day had seen a coyote and had
rushed into the tent for a rifle. Unfortunately it was mine
that came handiest, and not only did he fire seven shots
out of it, but he failed to kill the coyote and forgot to tell
me what he had done.

This story has a bearing (no pun intended) not only
on the question of the Gribble Island bear, but also on the
unlikelihood of a she-bear, even when wounded badly,
attacking anybody.