It must have been a very strange, perhaps terrifying, thing to the wild grizzly to be jolted along for two days on a rattling, bumping, lurching freight train, with the shrieking of steam whistles and the ringing of bells, but he endured it all heroically and gave no sign of fear. He ate well when food was given him, taking meat from his captor’s hands through the bars, and slept soundly when he was tired. He seemed to know and yield a sort of obedience to the correspondent, but resented with menacing growls the impertinent curiosity of strangers who came to look at him through the bars.
In every crowd that, came to see him there was at least one fool afflicted with a desire to poke the bear with a stick, and constant vigilance was necessary to prevent such witless persons from enraging him. At Mojave, when the correspondent went to the car, he found a dozen idlers inside, and one inspired lunatic was stirring up the Monarch, who was rapidly losing his temper. The cage would not have held him five minutes had he once tackled the bars in a rage, and it was only the moral influence of the chain around his neck that kept him quiet. When the correspondent sprang into the car, the grizzly’s eyes were green with anger, and in a moment more there would have been the liveliest kind of a circus on that freight train. Hustling the crowd out with unceremonious haste—incidentally throwing a few maledictions at the man with the stick—the correspondent drove the Monarch back from the bars, and ordered him to lie down, and for the next half hour rode in the car with him and talked him into a peaceable frame of mind.
From the freight depot on Townsend Street the cage was hauled on a truck to Woodward’s Gardens, and under the directions of Louis Ohnimus, superintendent of the gardens, the Monarch was transferred to more comfortable quarters. His cage was backed up to one of the permanent cages, both doors were opened, and he was invited to move, but he refused to budge until his chain was passed around the bars and hauled by four stout men. The grizzly resisted for a few minutes, but suddenly decided to change his quarters and went with a rush and a roar, wheeling about and striking savagely through the bars at the men. But Mr. Ohnimus had expected just such a performance and taken such precautions that nobody was hurt and no damage done.
The Monarch had shown himself a brave fighter and an animal of unusual courage in every way. He had endured the roughest kind of a journey without weakening, and compelled respect and admiration from the moment of his capture. But when the strain and excitement were over, and he was left to himself, the effects became apparent, and for two or three days he was a sick bear. He had a fever and would not eat for a time, but Mr. Ohnimus took charge of him, doctored him with medicines good for the ills of bear flesh, and soon tempted back his appetite with rabbits and pigeons.
Soon the Monarch was sufficiently convalescent to rip the sheet iron from the side of his cage and break a hole through into the hyena’s quarters. By night he was on his muscle in great shape, and Superintendent Ohnimus sent for the correspondent to sit up with him all night and help keep the half-ton grizzly from tearing things to pieces. By watching the old fellow and talking to him now and then they managed to distract his attention from mischief most of the time, but he got in considerable work and rolled up several sheets of iron as though they were paper.
It was evident that no ordinary cage would hold him, and men were at once employed to line one of the compartments with heavy iron of the toughest quality and to strengthen it with bars and angle iron. This made a perfectly secure place of confinement. A watch was kept on the Monarch by the garden keepers during the day, and by the superintendent and the correspondent every night, until the work was finished and the Monarch transferred.
The grizzly is now safely housed in the first apartment of the line of cages, and under the watchful care of Mr. Ohnimus will soon recover his lost flesh and energy and again be the magnificent animal that he was when he was the undisputed monarch of the Sierra Madre.
LATEST BULLETIN.
Monarch a True Grizzly.
“Monarch,” the Examiner’s big grizzly, received many visitors yesterday, but, having been up all night trying the strength of his new house, he declined to stand up, and paid but little attention to the crowd. His chain had been fastened to the bars of his cage with three half hitches and a knot, and the knot was held in place by a piece of wire. During the night he removed the wire, untied all the knots and half hitches and hauled the chain inside, where nobody could meddle with it. Having the chain all to himself, Monarch was indifferent to his visitors and lazily stretched himself on his back, with one arm thrown back over his head.
He had a good appetite yesterday and got away with a leg of lamb and a lot of bread and apples. He ate a little too heartily and had the symptoms of fever. Today he will not get so much food. The best time to see him is when he eats, because he lies down all other times of the day. He has breakfast at 10 a. m., lunch at 1 p. m. and dinner at 3 p. m.