“Now, I want you to take notice, son,” said Hugh. “Here it is July and this bear hasn’t begun to shed out a bit yet nor even to get sunburned, and yet maybe he’s been out of his den now for two months or more. He isn’t fat; he’s lost considerable flesh since he’s come out, but his coat is just as good as it was the day he left his den.”
“I’ve always heard, Hugh,” said Jack, “that bears, when they come out of their dens, are just as fat as when they go into them.”
“That’s what everybody says,” said Hugh, “and I reckon it’s true. I never happened to kill a bear right fresh from its den, but I’ve killed them in May and found them very fat. I’ve a kind of an idea that they lose their fat slowly. Most people say that when they come out and start wandering about looking for food they keep going all the time and get poor right away. I don’t quite believe that is so. I’m pretty sure they don’t get much to eat at first, and I’ve a notion that if they lost their fat right away some of them would starve to death before food got plenty. When we get this fellow’s skin off, I’m going to look into his stomach and see what he’s had to eat in the last twenty-four hours.”
“That’ll be good,” said Jack. “I’d like to see, too.”
For some time the skinning went on in silence and the hide began to drop from both sides of the great carcass.
“I tell you, Hugh,” said Jack, “this skin beats any one of those that we got last summer down in North Park. I think it’s fully as big as the biggest one that we got then, and it seems to me that the hair is twice as long and twice as silky.”
“Yes,” said Hugh, “it’s an awful good hide. I don’t know when I’ve seen one that was much better. You must remember that those we killed last summer were not in good order; the winter coat had only just begun to grow. This hide will make a fine robe if we can get anybody to tan it.”
“How do you mean, Hugh?” said Jack. “Won’t any woman tan this hide if we pay her for it?”
“Why, no, son, you know a great deal better than that. Haven’t I told you a good many times that lots of Blackfeet women won’t touch a bear hide on any terms? You know the Blackfeet, anyhow, are afraid of bears and think they’re powerful medicine. A good many of them won’t call a bear by his name. They call him Sticky Mouth. Most of them won’t sit on a bear robe. There are some medicine men or priests that can wear a kind of cap made of a strip of bearskin on the head, but it’s hard to find a woman that has the power to tan a bear hide. They are afraid of the spirit of the bear; afraid that it will bring them bad luck.”
“Now, Hugh,” said Jack, “I don’t remember that you ever told me about that before. I know that the Indians think that a bear is mighty smart and has great power, and I know that the Eastern Indians when they killed a bear used to smoke to the head and make the head presents of tobacco, but I didn’t know that they wouldn’t touch a bear hide.”