The bait scattered around this trap was discovered by four bears, but for some time they regarded it with suspicion, and were afraid to touch it, possibly because they detected the scent of man near it. Gradually they became accustomed to it and the signs of man's presence, and then they began to quarrel over the meat, as was plainly indicated by the disturbance of the ground where their tracks met. Two of the tracks were of medium size, one was quite large and evidently made by a grizzly, and the fourth was enormous, being fourteen inches long and nine inches wide. The last-named track was not made by a grizzly however. There were six toes on the forefoot, and this peculiar deformity was the distinguishing mark of a gigantic cinnamon bear known to hunters as "Six-Toed Pete." It was almost invariably found, during the long campaign in the wilderness, that tracks over eleven inches in length were made by cinnamon bears, and not by genuine grizzlies, although some hunters declare that the cinnamon is only a variety of grizzly, and that the color is not the mark of a different species. However that may be, the difference between the two varieties is very distinct, and as the object of the expedition was the capture of an indubitable California grizzly, no special effort was made to trap any of the big cinnamons. The smaller bears soon gave up the contest for the beef and left the field to Pete and the grizzly, who quarreled and fought around it for several nights. At last the grizzly gave Pete a thorough licking and established his own right to the title of monarch of the mountain. The decisive battle occurred one moonlight night and was witnessed from a safe perch in a fork of a tree near the trap. It was nearly 9 o'clock when the snapping of dry sticks indicated the approach of a heavy animal through the brush, and in a few moments the big grizzly came into sight, walking slowly and sniffing suspiciously. A smart breeze was drawing down the canyon, and the bear, being to the windward, could not smell the man up the tree, but he approached the meat cautiously and seemed in no hurry for his supper. While he was reconnoitering another animal was heard smashing through the thicket, and presently the huge bulk of Six-Toed Pete loomed up in the moonlight at the edge of the opening. At the approach of the cinnamon the grizzly rose upon his haunches and uttered low, hoarse growls, and when the big fellow appeared within twenty feet of him, he launched himself forward with surprising swiftness and struck Pete a blow on the neck that staggered him. It was like one of Sullivan's rushes in the ring, and the blow of that ponderous paw would have knocked out an ox; but Pete was no slouch of a slugger himself, and he quickly recovered and returned the blow with such good will that had the grizzly's head been in the way it would have ached for a week afterward. Then the fur began to fly.