In one place we
noticed several deep parallel grooves, made by the old glaciers.
In the depressions on the summit there was a hard, black, peaty-like
soil that looked indescribably ancient and unfamiliar. Out of this
mould, that might have come from the moon or the interplanetary spaces,
were growing mountain cranberries and blueberries or huckleberries.
We were soon so absorbed in gathering the latter that we were quite
oblivious of the grandeurs about us. It is these blueberries that
attract the bears. In eating them, Uncle Nathan said, they take the
bushes in their mouths, and by an upward movement strip them clean of
both leaves and berries. We were constantly on the lookout for the
bears, but failed to see any. Yet a few days afterward, when two of
our party returned here and encamped upon the mountain, they saw five
during their stay, but failed to get a good shot. The rifle was in the
wrong place each time. The man with the shot-gun saw an old bear and
two cubs lift themselves from behind a rock and twist their noses
around for his scent, and then shrink away.
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