Then the scout said he would go among the high peaks at the head of the valley. He took a light pack and went alone, while I stayed in our camp to guard the provisions and to look after the horses. In order to help in the hunt, I loaned him my large Winchester rifle of 45–70 caliber. Little did I realize how much I would need it myself. After the scout had gone, I climbed the mountains for camera pictures, caught trout in the stream and looked after our horses. Most of the provisions I stored inside the lodge, to be safe from wild animals and sudden storms. But I had an out-of-door kitchen at the edge of the woods, where I cooked in good weather and kept a supply of food. One afternoon heavy clouds gathered over the mountains and a storm swept through the valley. Our horses left the meadow and came to the lodge, to pay me a little visit and to get a bite of salt all around; and then they strolled back again. I passed that evening reading and writing by the lodge-fire. Finally I lay in my blankets and watched the fire burn low, until there was only a bed of glowing embers; and I fell asleep. In the dead of night, our horses wakened me by coming close to the lodge. I wondered at their leaving their feeding grounds again, and went out to drive them back. The storm was over. The clouds had broken and the moon was shining. After the horses had gone, there was quiet. The wind had fallen and there was a strange stillness. I stood for a moment and looked reverently at the mystic mountains in the moonlight. I felt that uplift of spirit that I always have in the presence of giant peaks. I heard the solemn hooting of an owl, the distant cries of coyotes, and the rippling of the river rapids. The night air was so cold I soon went back to my warm blankets. But I could not sleep; I had a feeling that something was near. Finally I raised myself and listened. Suddenly a rattling of pans came from my outside kitchen. Thinking one of the horses had come back, I jumped from my blankets. I seized a stick and ran out to investigate. A huge shadowy form stood against the black line of the forest. It looked like a horse and I was about to hurl my club; but this animal was no horse. It stood high in front and was low behind. It gazed steadily at me with lowered head, which moved slowly from side to side. Then came a sudden snort, a sort of snarling whine; and I realized that I was in close quarters with a huge grizzly bear. The thought of beating him with a stick made a chill run down my backbone; I felt weak in the knees; and I had the sensation of “my hair standing on end.”