ever a grizzly bear happens to charge upon you, with wide-open lips showing his powerful teeth and eyes flashing with anger, have the nerve to stand your ground! Without moving a muscle, your eyes fixed on his, you may threaten him with a mere sharp stick, and he will change his mind. He growls, but you do not answer his challenge; he concludes to pass on. Here is a clear demonstration of our Indian axiom: “Silence is greater than speech.”

A few years ago, an instance of this kind came to my ears among the Assiniboine Sioux. Four Stars, a brave, followed one side of a deep gulch while his two companions were on the other side, hunting deer. As he approached the ravine, which was full of wild cherry and plum bushes, his friends saw from the opposite bank a female silver-tip with her two nearly full-grown cubs lurking within the thicket. They made every effort to attract his attention, but in vain. He walked right down the slope, apparently to his death.

When the three bears charged, Four Stars was taken completely by surprise, but he showed no fear. He stopped short in his tracks and assumed a rigid pose, his old single-loading musket extended from his shoulder. The bears came on until they could plainly see his eyes; then they paused and crouched, displaying their teeth and claws. A puff of smoke from Four Stars’ gun; the mother fell and rolled on the ground. The young bears leaped savagely forward, but the young man ripped off his shirt and threw it in their path, causing them to hesitate. Meanwhile, as his ejector was broken, he used a ramrod to push out the shell of his cartridge, calmly re-loaded and fired, killing the two.

Here was a hero. The odds were against him. He knew the peculiar weakness of the foe, but to take advantage of this knowledge required something equally important—the nerve of a master man!

I need scarcely tell you that the animals are suspicious of man. They have every reason to be. You must have real love and sympathy for them and be consistent and straightforward in your dealings, in order to gain their friendship. They will accept your peace-offering of food as soon as they trust you, and in many cases their confidence is not hard to win.

Some will come to you when called, and a very interesting instance of this occurred last summer, at the country home of a friend upon the Rock River in Illinois. While a group of us sat on the veranda, I gave an imitation of the mother rabbit’s whistle; and, to our delighted surprise, a tiny rabbit crept out from under the big leaves of some plants near the house. It came trustingly up close to the railing, and sat there watching us out of its bright eyes until I gave the cry of the coyote, when the little thing raced for cover!

The mother’s call and the mating or lover’s call of different animals may be successfully imitated with practice and with or without the use of a birch-bark horn or other adjunct. A good imitation is always answered if in season, and if the animal called is within hearing.

On the prairies and the great lakes you can attract animals to you by means of signals. This method is based entirely upon their insatiable desire to investigate whatever is strange to them. You may tie something red to a long stick and set it upright in full view of antelopes, yourself lying motionless near by, and they will come very close to inspect it. The sand-hill crane will do the same; and if you flap your hat or the corner of a blanket while lying flat, the Canadian geese will circle about you and sometimes alight.

But the great secret of establishing intercourse with wild animals is to rove in their domain without doing them harm. In this way they come to know you long before you have made their acquaintance. I cannot tell you how they know when to trust you, but know they do!

If you are near a lake where water-fowl congregate, take your canoe at evening or in the early morning and paddle quietly here and there for several days, and I will guarantee that you will be a privileged character upon that lake. They will mind you no more than they would mind a muskrat, and you will have a splendid opportunity to study the character and ways of each species.

As to an individual or personal friendship with a wild creature, the best way is to bring one up from infancy, yet allow it perfect freedom. In this the Indian succeeded remarkably well; and it was not uncommon for him to establish an intimacy with an adult animal or bird, although this is a more difficult feat. You must bear in mind that knowing a captive or domestic animal is not at all the same thing, as their habits and manners are strongly influenced by an artificial environment.

One morning my friend Simon Bonga, a three-quarters blood Ojibway at Leech Lake in Minnesota, found a baby fawn not more than thirty yards from his house. He took some milk to it and left it there. The next day he took some more, and soon the fawn would drink from his hand. After a few days, he would simply stand in his doorway and give the mother call. The fawn would run to him to be fed. A little later, not only he but his wife and children were able to stroke and pet the little one, which continued to live in its native haunts, but came regularly to the house for food and a frolic. The mother was seen once or twice, but made no trouble.

A year later, I wrote to Mr. Bonga and incidentally referred to the fawn. He replied: “She is now a respectable young lady doe, and we are much attached to her.” She has lived the natural life and has yet allowed herself the advantage of intimate association with human beings, while my friend and his family have known the charm of close familiarity with one of nature’s most graceful creations.

IV—THE LANGUAGE OF FOOTPRINTS

You have often heard it said that “actions speak louder than words.”

It is a fact that both voluntary and involuntary actions of the body tell truly the mind’s purpose, and this is why the Indian studies so assiduously every record of the comings and goings of his fellow creatures, both animal and human.

The footprint, I want you to bear in mind, is first of all a picture of all the prominent points on the sole. The ball of the foot, the heel and toes, hoof and claw, each makes its own impress. Even the fishes make theirs with their fins, which to them are hand and foot. This is the wood-dweller’s autograph. More than this, each series of footprints tells a bit of history, perhaps betrays a secret to the instructed eye, and the natural Indian did not neglect to drill his child thoroughly in this important branch of learning.

I will now ask you to enter the forest with me. First, scan the horizon and look deep into the blue vault above you, to adjust your nerves and the muscles of your eye, just as you do other muscles by stretching them. There is still another point. You have spread a blank upon the retina, and you have cleared the decks of your mind, your soul, for action.

Let us divide our scouts into small groups; one alone is sometimes best, when you are pretty well advanced in this study, but at first two or three, with a head scout or teacher, will do. We will assume that you have passed the primary test; that is, you have learned to recognize the footprints of mice, birds, squirrels, rabbits, and perhaps to some extent the next set, those of the dog, the cat, the fox, and the wolf.

It is a crisp winter morning, and upon the glistening fresh snow we see everywhere the story of the early