No one had shown him anything but hatred in his lonely, unprotected
life, and he could not tell what this older Bear might do. As he stood
in doubt, he caught sight of the old Grizzly himself slouching along a
hillside, stopping from time to time to dig up the quamash-roots and
wild turnips.
He was a monster. Wahb instinctively distrusted him, and sneaked
away through the woods and up a rocky bluff where he could watch.
Then the big fellow came on Wahb's track and rumbled a deep growl of
anger; he followed the trail to the tree, and rearing up, he tore the
bark with his claws, far above where Wahb had reached. Then he strode
rapidly along Wahb's trail. But the cub had seen enough. He fled back
over the Divide into the Meteetsee Canon, and realized in his dim,
bearish way that he was at peace there because the Bear-forage was so
poor.
As the summer came on, his coat was shed. His skin got very itchy, and
he found pleasure in rolling in the mud and scraping his back against
some convenient tree. He never climbed now: his claws were too long, and
his arms, though growing big and strong, were losing that suppleness of
wrist that makes cub Grizzlies and all Blackbears great climbers. He now
dropped naturally into the Bear habit of seeing how high he could reach
with his nose on the rubbing-post, whenever he was near one.
He may not have noticed it, yet each time he came to a post, after a
week or two away, he could reach higher, for Wahb was growing fast and
coming into his strength.
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