While following one of these the two men turned a corner of the canyon and were instantly charged by an old she-grisly, so close that it was only by good luck that one of the hurried shots disabled her and caused her to tumble over a cut bank where she was easily finished.
They found that she had been lying directly across the game trail, on a smooth well beaten patch of bare earth, which looked as if it had been dug up, refilled, and trampled down.

Looking curiously at this patch they saw a bit of hide only partially covered at one end; digging down they found the body of a well grown grisly cub.

Its skull had been crushed, and the brains licked out, and there were signs of other injuries.

The hunters pondered long over this strange discovery, and hazarded many guesses as to its meaning.

At last they decided that probably the cub had been killed, and its brains eaten out, either by some old male-grisly or by a cougar, that the mother had returned and driven away the murderer, and that she had then buried the body and lain above it, waiting to wreak her vengeance on the first passer-by.
Old Tazewell Woody, during his thirty years' life as a hunter in the Rockies and on the great plains, killed very many grislies.