Just beneath the cornice he waded into the snow. He shook himself, kicked the snow, went through swimming motions but still did not start to slide. The slope was not steep enough. Wallowing down a short distance, he rose, then rolled forward over and over--cartwheeled. After three or four turns he began to slide. This stirred up so much snow-dust that I could get only dim glimpses of him and could not tell whether he was sliding head first or tail first. On the thin snow at the bottom the dust-fog cleared, and the grizzly rolled over and over down the slope like a log. Getting on his feet, he walked away and disappeared behind the storm-battered trees at timber-line. I took pains to track the bear. Down in the woods, more than three miles from his coasting-place, he had made a meal the evening before off the smelly old carcass of a deer. He spent the night by the bones. In the morning he climbed to the top of a ridge that rose above the tree-tops. His tracks showed that he had walked about here and stopped at three or four places to look down on scenes below. Then he had followed his tracks back close to where he had spent the night. Here he had tramped about in the snow as though having nothing in particular to do. But a coyote was trying to find something on the bones and the bear may have been threatening him. He finally started off, plainly with coasting in his mind, for without stopping he went directly to the snow cornice. From tracks which I saw in this and other cañons I realized that a grizzly sometimes goes out of his way in order to coast down steep snowy places.