At night the bear may lie down in almost any place, but during the daytime he selects one of the safest places in his realm. If in the high mountains this may be on a ridge above the timber-line, or on a treeless hilltop from which he commands a wide outlook, or in the end of a cañon, or in a thicket. Wherever the place, it is one where the bear cannot be easily surprised, and where his scouts--his scent, his sight, and his ears--would easily warn him of the approach of any possible danger. When pursued, the grizzly tries to keep within his domain. Usually he travels only seven or eight miles in one direction, then doubles back, circles, and zigzags. Only two or three times when trailing the bear have I known him to travel more than fourteen or fifteen miles in one direction. In one long trailing experience I observed that the bear, with many twists and zigzags, covered his domain practically twice over. I trailed the same grizzly two Septembers, three years apart. I started him the second time near the place where I had started him before, and he followed for three days over almost exactly the same route taken the first time. Three prospectors and I were rowing across a lake in the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho. When about half a mile from the farther shore, we spied a grizzly swimming across. We pursued, and when we got near, one of the men proposed to rope him, saying that the bear could now tow us ashore. The other two protested so vigorously that the rope was not thrown. Fortunate for us that it was not, for had it fallen over the neck of Mr. Grizzly, the chances are that he might have climbed into the boat. In Alaska I saw a grizzly out at sea, swimming vigorously along between two islands that were seven miles apart. The grizzly is fond of water, is an excellent and enduring swimmer, and in the water fights effectively. While I was on a winter trip into the San Juan Mountains a prospector told me of an occurrence which he had just witnessed. A snow-slide crashing down into a gulch close to a grizzly den aroused the bear, who came out with a rush to see what was going on. He did not lose his head, but looked about until the air cleared of the swirling snow-dust. Then he walked round the wreckage brought down by the slide and finally climbed it and explored the opening it had smashed through the woods. After being out more than an hour he re-entered the den. Though living a solitary life in the seclusion of the wilderness, this bear was again routed out before spring. His den was only a few feet above the stream, on the mountain-side. The débris brought down by the snow-slide forty or fifty feet up the gulch dammed the stream and raised the water so that it leaked through the earth into the den. Again driven forth from his den, the bear--so his tracks in the snow showed--after one pause climbed to another den on the mountain-side about two miles distant.