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I headed downslope to where the cubs were feeding and came up at them, hoping to scare them into one or another of my mining shafts for protection. It worked perfectly, as they ran for the nearest dark hole, and I went in with my ropes on the ready to see if I could catch one. I could hear the little fellows squealing in the dark and I paused a moment to let my eyes adjust. Just then I heard a tremendous roar and knew the sow was coming on the run looking for her wayward offspring. It didn't take her a moment to pick up the scent and she headed straight for the mouth of the shaft bent on destruction....
Entry from Bill Peyto s Mountain Journal May 15, 1910
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First published January 1, 1999