The Biography of a Grizzly
E >>
Ernest Seton Thompson >> The Biography of a Grizzly
Away over the Shoshones, indeed, was the road to the Park, but it was
far, far away, with a doubtful end to the long, doubtful journey. But
why so far? Here in this little gulch was all he sought; here were peace
and painless sleep. He knew it; for his nose, his never-erring nose,
said, "_Here! here now!_"
He paused a moment at the gate, and as he stood the wind-borne fumes
began their subtle work. Five were the faithful wardens of his life, and
the best and trustiest of them all flung open wide the door he long had
kept. A moment still Wahb stood in doubt. His lifelong guide was silent
now, had given up his post. But another sense he felt within. The Angel
of the Wild Things was standing there, beckoning, in the little vale.
Wahb did not understand. He had no eyes to see the tear in the Angel's
eyes, nor the pitying smile that was surely on his lips. He could not
even see the Angel. But he _felt_ him beckoning, beckoning. A rush of
his ancient courage surged in the Grizzly's rugged breast. He turned
aside into the little gulch. The deadly vapors entered in, filled his
huge chest and tingled in his vast, heroic limbs as he calmly lay down
on the rocky, herbless floor and as gently went to sleep, as he did that
day in his Mother's arms by the Graybull, long ago.
[Illustration]